Chapter 2 - setting the stage

Well let's start with some basic information. My name is Chrissy DeBlasi, sister of the world-famous Chloe Hampton. She's my identical twin actually. Used to be my best friend too, but that all changed the night our parents died.

We were fourteen and snuck downstairs past our curfew. The original plan was to steal some of mom's special chocolates that she kept hidden away in the back of the cabinet, but things quickly changed when Chloe found dad's cooking lighter on the countertop. I wanted to just grab the candy and go back upstairs, but Chloe wanted to have fun with fire. Since she had always been the more adventurous one, I followed her lead. We made little fires, setting napkins and the like aflame. It was pretty fun actually. Then Chloe grabbed some cooking oil and spilled it out in a puddle on the floor. I told her it was a bad idea, but she ignored me.

Next thing I know, there's a raging inferno consuming the kitchen. We tried to put it out with water, but that only made it worse. I pulled my shell-shocked sister out of the burning room into the backyard. Our parents were still upstairs asleep and weren't able to make it out in time. The fire department and police came after a neighbor called about the blaze. They weren't fast enough.

When we were asked what happened by separate officers, I told the truth. My sister didn't. Wanting to free of any blame, she quickly cooked up a story about how I started the fire. She said I hated my parents and had been hearing voices telling me to kill them. She said I set the fire and tried to get her to join me. Her fake tears were convincing enough and when I found out, I snapped and attacked her. Turns out, that was all the evidence they needed to paint me as a lunatic. I ended up being sent away to an asylum for the criminally insane while she was sent to live with our rich aunt and uncle in Malibu.

I wasn't crazy when I got there, but solitary confinement and a series of ethically questionable treatments definitely changed that. With each passing day I lost more and more of my sanity. They treated me like an animal. I had no friends, no possessions, no hope. It was a miserable, soul-sucking experience; like a Dementor's Kiss from Harry Potter. And I was Sirius Black, locked away in Azkaban for I crime I didn't commit.

After a year or two in there, I gave up fighting. I gave up trying the prove my innocence. I simply accepted that this was my life now and things got a lot easier. They let me interact with other patients, use the common areas. It wasn't that bad. It was like living at a really sh*tty resort. I grew familiar with it and became completely content. Until I saw her on tv.

It was a Calvin Klein commercial for perfume. She had changed a lot in the last six years. She was tall and curvy. Shimmering blonde hair cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall of grain. Smooth, perfect skin without a single blemish. Full, pouty lips; perfectly kissable. A flat, toned stomach and long, slender legs. A round, bubble backside and child-bearing hips. Boobs, swollen like ripe grapefruits without the slightest hint of sagging. I probably wouldn't have known it was her if it wasn't for the little scar on her jaw, the one I caused after punching her the night of the fire.

I asked around to see if anyone knew who she was. One of the patients said her name was Chloe Hampton (she had changed her last name). I was then handed a copy of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition and there she was, right on the cover. One of the other patients mentioned that I kind of looked like her.

We both naturally had black hair. Mine was long and stringy, lifeless after years without hair products. Our bodies were no longer the same. Hers had been shaped into perfection by a personal trainer (and probably some minor plastic surgery). Mine was a victim of years in a relatively stationary lifestyle; no muscle tone and honestly a little flabby around the gut and thighs. My skin was pale, while hers was nicely tanned. But we still had the same face; green eyes, sharp jaw-line, distinctly Italian features. We were still twins

Seeing her sent me into a bit of a relapse. The fact that she got to be beautiful and successful made my blood boil. I was overcome with rage and completely blacked out. Next thing I knew, it was a week later and I was back in the rubber room with a straight jacket on.

Once I started thinking clearly again, I realized that this could be a blessing in disguise. If I could find a way to break out of here, I could trade places with her; like the Parent Trap. I could take her perfect life away from her and get to live in the lap of luxury for the first time. And by doing so, I could truly get the revenge I always wanted. I liked this plan. I liked it a lot.