My twin sister came to visit me at night, her face covered in bruises. After learning that her husband had done it, we decided to switch places and teach him a lesson he’d never forget 

It was raining again outside. It had been pouring for several days now, making everything around me feel gray and sticky. I sat in the kitchen, mechanically stirring my long-cold tea and thinking of anything to escape that nagging unease.

The doorbell rang unexpectedly. The cat twitched and jumped off the windowsill. I immediately tensed. No one comes to me at this hour without a reason.

I opened the door. When she stepped into the apartment, the light fell on her face, and my stomach sank. One eye was barely open, a dark bruise spreading around it. There was a fresh cut on her cheek, and her lips were cracked. She was trying to hold on, but it was difficult.

I helped her take off her coat and only then noticed her hands. Her wrists were bruised, as if someone had squeezed them and wouldn’t let go. An all-too-familiar sight.