Chronicles of Chris Redner

Chapter 1: Satiation

We build Cathedrals to our pain.

Establish monuments to attain,

Freedom from all of the scars and the sins,

Lest we drown in the darkness within!

His mind, in a state of disarray and indistinguishable emotion, could not remember where he had learned it from, or perhaps more importantly, why it had such a profound effect that his conscience should choose to remember it.

He'd been staring over his right shoulder for quite some time as it began to ache and only now did he realize exactly what it was that had attracted his attention; war. He focused on the battle before him, for upon the paned glass, not a mere inch from his face, he witnessed the violence that had befallen the outside of the window. He watched as drops of condensed water crashed upon the smooth surface, forcing itself to spread in all directions as far as it could, making the space it could touch become engulfed in the moisture. Each drop continued to fall in an unharmonious and uncoordinated pattern, letting fate decide which one landed where. There was no aim and there was no target. The sole objective of the rain was to cover everything; to conquer. And with each crashing drop, they came closer to completing their objective as each one came nearer and nearer to the others landing point, threatening total takeover as the drops fused together. Combining forces, they flowed freely in small rivulets as they crossed the glass, tearing with unimaginable force through all parts untainted by the rain. Soon all had become lost in the water. The window was defeated as the rain took over, incessantly hitting the already slain opponent, creating small cracks of noise; the tortured yells of the pane.

His gaze drifted to his left slightly as he looked away from the window of the car, his mind hoping to find some comfort amidst all the negative emotion. The boy breathed deeply and sighed, as if trying to cleanse his being with crisp air. Try as he might, the green fields that were his mind are forever stained in blood. There was no reprieve from the seeds of death he'd sown in the peaceful earth. There was to taking back the countless times he'd fed those dark plants in the blood of innocence. He was doomed to suffer through the hell he'd created for himself. And what a hell to create that began its existence not a day ago.

***

"Everybody on the ground, right now!" he shouted intimidatingly at the crowd, who in response immediately dropped on their stomachs in terror of the masked man wielding an unregistered 9 millimeter he'd obtained from his friend, Josh Myer, who also had his own and was across the room shouting obscenities at a man who'd tried to reason with him. Remembering what Josh had taught him, he unflinchingly placed his gun in the face of the young woman manager and politely asked her to open the vault, to which she quickly and shakily complied.

She led the young man through multiple hallways, shaking while her eyes darted back and forth, not quite sure why they were searching or what for, but knowing she'd do what she had to if she found it. To her dismay, though it wasn't of any particular degree, she didn't find the mysterious and unknown thing she'd searched for, and instead proceeded to give in to the boy behind her. After one more pass, she stood before the great vault, still trembling as she fumbled through her keys to grip her security card, and though it was of considerable size, it took her long seconds just to merely grasp it as her hands seized from terror. By this point, young Chris had become extremely agitated and vented upon his poor victim, "Hurry up, lady, or you'll end up dying where you work."

Not exactly the most intimidating thing ever, but who cares. It works.

With the door now opened as the woman scrambled in heed of the threat, the boy looked casually over and replied politely, "Thank you, Miss." If he hadn't been robbing her, she'd have taken it sincerely, which completely threw her off guard. The timing of confusion was perfect as the assailant whipped his arm, pistol in hand, and struck her across the face. The force of the blow was well over the necessary force required to knock her out but he didn't want to take any chances. With the woman unconscious, it was one less hostage he had to watch. He stared into the vault astounded as his arms went limp as the only thing his mind registered was the awe as his eyes reflected lights of gold bars and tied cash to the back of his mind. Just one would suffice his lust for the money.

He was barely able to walk forward and observe the beauty in front of him. He outstretched his hand, his heart yearning to grasp the heavy metal as his upper body was thrown to his left, his legs swept from underneath him and his head snapped back from slight whiplash as another mass tackled him to the ground. His heart skipped a best as he looked face to face with an officer.

***

Chris could never understand the gravity of his actions, he was too young. Too vulnerable and malleable. Able to be bent and deceived, twisted and tarnished. Though he had many years ahead of him, the next twenty were going to be arguably the hardest years of his life. The punishment, the time, the mental breakdown; he never could have foreseen the consequences.

Chris sighed and closed his eyes, hoping for some release from this unknown nightmare, some reprieve. He sat, clenching his eyes in a despair he could not even begin to describe; he'd never felt it before and could identify what exactly it was. He quickly relaxed as he gave up trying to find a way to escape his situation; everything seemed so distant, so ambiguous and unnecessary, irrelevant perhaps, as his mind slowly tried to escape, which quickly became clearly pointless as a nagging essence held his mind in place and he again, gave up and focused once more as he heard a voice call out, "Hey, kid. Can you hear me?"

The blatant question startled him for a reason he couldn't define. He didn't quite know how to respond or what the cop wanted, so he replied with a weak and indifferent, "Yes, I can hear you."

"Listen kid, er, what's your name?"

"Chris Redner" he replied with the same indifference as before.

"Chris, what the hell made you decide it was ok to rob a bank?"

Chris noted the tone of the officers voice and was quick to retaliate with a cold anger, "Don't talk to me like I'm your child. You don't know me."

"I know that, son."

"I'm not your son either!" he replied with the same amount of venom.

"Listen, kid, you gotta learn not to talk to me like that. You talk like that to the judge and you'll just piss him off. So I suggest you watch your mouth, punk!" The officer had tried to hide his anger but found it impossible as his voice intensified. Chris fell silent, wanting to wast no more time with idle conversation with a man who didn't care and continued his monologue, no longer aware of anyone else's presence. His mind wandered around thoughts of anger and betrayal, indifference and emotion, and despair. He was in a terrible and unpierceable haze. He turned to his left, attracted by a red light from the corner of his eye that had quickly came closer. It was a tail-light of a truck that had moved dangerously close to the car and was closing.

He took in a deep breath as the truck-bed connected with the front of the car, taking the front of the truck swerving to the right, sending it around the front of the police vehicle as the front of the truck then struck the back of the car, which sent the car skidding sideways. After a small distance, the tires, caught the ground, lifting the right side up and over and sending the car into a roll across the pavement bathed in light. The violence the car and it's contents felt as it sailed through the air, up and over itself again and again and again was inconceivable as Chris, who through the incompetence of the officer, wasn't buckled, was thrown about in the back of the car, striking the insides in pain over and over again until he was thrown backwards to his right. The window was there to meet him as the beck of his head was struck with a force he'd never sustained before. The shock rendered his mind unconscious as he happily accepted and embraced the darkness, no longer willing to fight. His body went limp as his head continuously hit the window, sending him futher and further into the darkness, threatening death. The car slowed to a stop, letting the destruction finally subside, and rested upside down in the median. Chris's mind was already far away from the chaos by the time paramedics appeared, lost in a world that didn't exist, roaming around in the imagination he'd drawn up. With a steady heartbeat, his mind lived out his dream in his loss of consciousness, each being alive in a different place as his mind's grip on reality finally failed, leaving it to the bounds of the dream he'd thought of in desperation.

***

No one came to visit Chris while he was hospitalized; no portrayals of kindness and caring; no family, no friends. His hospital bill remained paid by someone who never held the decency to pay him company or tribute, not that it would benefit him, for according to official medical records, Chris Redner was comatose; alive but not really alive. He lacked all natural ability except the ability for his brain to maintain a regular heartbeat. He was alive, but without his humanity as his mind shut down and satiated and consoled itself in it's new world it had twisted from a memory from his old life; the one thing that had kept him from putting a gun between his teeth; something that cushioned his falls into darkness and angst and had such a profound effect on him that his mind chose it in the stead of all other options and completely shut itself out from reality and everything it knew and everything it loved. Literally speaking, Chris Redner truly had lost his mind.

***