Chasing Reality

Chapter 1

I always go back to that moment where it all started.

It all started with the first time I saw her.

Her curly dirty blond hair waving in the wind as her hands fought to keep the rebellious strands tucked behind her ears. Her perfectly curved body that made me gasp with admiration as she shifted her attitude into her left hip. And I will never forget about her mesmerizing emerald green eyes that glared at me with such disgust, annoyance, and just flat out hatred. But when I stared closely into her eyes and peaked behind the walls that her pupils used to shield her thoughts, I saw her true feelings.

She was curious. Intrigued by my dark humor and my inability to filter my words before I spoke. She was undeniably attracted to my dangerously rebellious nature.

I challenged her.

Broke her free from her everyday routine of a boring life and made her question even the smallest of things. I made her tiptoe outside of her comfort zone and breathe in a sense of adventure.

I made her want to live.

Truly live.

And she hated me for it

It infuriated her and aroused her all at the same time. I took away her simple and boring life and replaced it with spontaneous adventures that made her say “fuck it” and experience a world she always wished she was brave enough to thrive in.

And she did.

She thrived way more than I could have imagined. She went from blank stares to constant bright smiles that lit up rooms. She took risks and stopped being afraid of others’ opinions. She finally did what she wanted to do, behaved how she wanted, and didn’t apologize for simply releasing her true self that she kept hidden all her life.

But I put her in danger.

I should have never risked her safety for my pathetic obsession with meaningless games. What can I say? I love the thrill of a chase. I enjoyed the excitement of bringing out the darkest sides of the quiet ones; the ones you least expect to behave so dirty and unconstrained.

Now, we ended up here.

Crying like a lovesick fool watching her coffin being lowered six feet into the ground. I never cared for anyone in my life but for some unknown reason, I deeply cared for her.

I should have left you alone that day, Lacey, and now you’re dead because of me.

Chapter 2

I had lost my mind.

My conscious was losing the fight against the craziness within my head. All hope was gone for me. I never stood a chance to begin with, but the loss of Lacey pained me so much that it sealed my doom.

Grief changes you in unexplained ways. It’s a cancer that sets fire to your heart and soul, and once the blaze fades away and the smoke clears, everything hardens into black coal. Everything becomes numb and this thing called "feelings" disappears, becoming a myth.

This isn’t the first time I had experienced grief. Death and I were old friends. Death loved to take from me. He took anyone that could soften me, make me a better person, or guide me to be the man that I had potential to become. Anyone I have ever loved was at risk, so it was best for me to not love at all.

First, it was our oldest brother, Dylan. I was pushing ten-years-old, and Tiffany was fourteen when the accident happened. Dylan was hit head-on by a drunk driver. He died at the scene. Something in our parents snapped that day. They were never the same, and neither was I. Dylan was my hero.

Next, Death took away my best friend from junior high, Keith. His mother found him hanging in his bedroom closet when she came home from her night shift at the diner. Apparently, he was being bullied at school for the hand-me-down clothes he wore, and the popular kids convinced him that the world would be a better place without him. I could never understand why he didn’t tell me what was going on. We were supposed to tell each other everything. His mother wouldn’t let me read the suicide letter he left, but she told me that Keith said he was sorry for leaving me behind.

Lastly, Death took my parents ten years ago, leaving my sister, Tiffany, no choice but to grow up at nineteen and become the guardian of me. I was fifteen at the time and she struggled to care for my raging teenage self that was at the peak of puberty. I knew she wanted to give up. I saw it in her eyes each time I exploded in my raging fits, punching holes in the walls and busting windows. I wasn’t proud of the way I behaved. I was selfish and it took me a while to realize that she had lost her parents too.

I had a nice decade break from Death. Maybe it was because I went down a criminal path and did all of Death’s evil bidding. Christian Stokes, the one that all mob bosses, gang leaders, and crime lords called when they had a “mess” they needed to be cleaned up. I didn’t belong to any group. I was an outsider that was unbiased and had no emotional attachments to the individuals that needed silencing. Therefore, I didn’t care about the lives I took. It was all about the money and the thrill of the hunt.

But then she came into my life. Turning me soft and making me redevelop my conscious. Lacey made me take responsibility for the lives I had ended, and because of her, I began to lose my edge.

I wanted to get out.

I wanted to change and I hated her for it.

When Death realized this, he saw it as a breach of our unspoken contract. So, Death decided to send me a message by killing her.

I understood more clearly now why my father went crazy when Dylan died. Doctor Alexander Stokes was a highly respected metaphysician. He studied the philosophies of reality of the mind, and how to bend the brain’s thoughts of reality into our own desires. After Dylan died, he became obsessed with the concept of time, and began studying quantum realms. During his endless hours of research, the city started calling him the Mad Scientist.

They weren’t wrong.

He had in fact lost it.

The rumor was he was trying to develop a way to travel to the past and save my brother.

As I tossed a white rose onto Lacey’s casket, I wondered if there was any truth to that rumor. Had my father developed a way to travel to the past? I needed to find his research. Maybe I could save Lacey. Just maybe.

But where would I begin to look?

My father always kept his work hidden until he had solid theories and outcomes. It wouldn’t be as simple as hacking into his laptop or searching through old files. He loved puzzles and challenges. He wanted to work for the information he so desperately needed to obtain the results he wanted. We had that in common.

Tiffany.

When our parents died, she was the sole beneficiary. She inherited the house, our father’s personal office suite, as well as the family money. My cut of the funds wasn’t released to me until I was twenty-one. Tiffany was required to use part of the money for my college as well as her own. She was the only one that graduated though. She graduated from medical school about six months ago and now, she’s fighting her way through the intern program.

Our parents would have been proud.

Dylan would have been proud.

It’s going to be difficult to question Tiffany about dad’s final project. For whatever reason, she was very sensitive about it. She would always say, “he was mad at the time,” or, “his work didn’t make sense. Just drop it, Chris.”

I had stopped questioning after the first year. I just wanted to know if his work killed him. Everyone said it did, and our poor mother was dragged down with him. I always felt like there was more to the story though.

Maybe Tiffany knew more than she led on.

It was time to find out because I needed this information. Now more than ever.

Let the games begin.

Chapter 3

I thought I was the last one standing next to Lacey's casket, staring into the oblivion and drowning in my sorrows, until I felt coldness pierce through my chest. I quickly peaked over Lacey's death bed and I was met with blazing eyes of hatred that were so razor sharp that they could have sliced me open. Her eyes were usually a delicious golden, honey brown that sparkled with pure joy.

But not today.

Today they were almost black, hardened, and angry. The moment she trapped me in her glare, she raced towards me as her attitude swayed as violently as her hips. I stayed locked in my position as if my feet were glued to the dead grass.

"How dare you show your face here?" She exhaled as she crossed her arms. She barely reached my chest but she seemed ready to take me down regardless.

"I loved her, Heather." I rolled my eyes as I annoyingly dug my fists into the front pockets of my black slacks.

"Ha! Is that what you called it, Stokes? You were horrible to my baby sister." She never liked me.

"That's not true." At least, I didn't think that was true.

I do have problems.

"You ruined her and you know it. She's dead because of you. I know you had something to do with it. So, just do my family a favor and come clean. That way, we can all have closure." I watched an angry tear push through her tear duct as the corner of her lips twitched.

"I would never hurt Lacey. I loved her." My lungs were becoming restricted as I felt adrenaline building within my veins. What was she accusing me of?

"Cut the shit, Stokes! Every time you two would get into a fight, she would call me for help. I saw the results of what you did to her!" She was screaming at this point as tears effortlessly rolled down her cheeks.

"I never laid a hand on her." I mumbled through gritted teeth as I felt my fists tighten in my pocket.

"Lies," She paused as she smacked her lips, "You want to hit me right now. Don't you?"

I stepped back and furrowed my brows at her. What was she trying to do?

"Are you trying to get a rise out of me, Heather?"

She pushed her way back into my personal space and stood toe-to-toe with me. Her black eyes stared into my soul and I felt like I was trapped in Death's gaze all over again. "I want everyone to see that you are more than just the stereotypical bad boy that runs around on the streets. I want them to see who you really are; a psychotic monster."

I do have problems.

I inhaled a deep breath as my heart rate began to slow down and the darkness that always seems to cloud my mind in moments of stress, began to disintegrate.

Suddenly, I composed myself. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Miss Giles. It was a beautiful service." I turned my back to her and began to walk away.

"The police will be in contact, Stokes. That's a promise."

I glanced over my shoulder and flashed her my killer devilish smirk. "You have a great day."

"You won't be smiling when you are carried away in handcuffs." She retaliated but I ignored her and gracefully made my way to my car.

I sat in silence for a moment before I turned on the ignition. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles were beginning to turn white. I needed to relax, but I just couldn't. What was she accusing me of? "I saw the results of what you did to her." What was that supposed to mean? Yes, we had our fights, but I never put my hands-on Lacey. At least, I don't think I ever did?

I do have problems.

Chapter 4

I woke up to my sister screaming at me. I was laying on her living room floor as my eyes fluttered opened. I must have drunk too much after the funeral.

"What the fuck, Christian?!" She dug her heel into my hip and pushed me onto my back. I glanced around the room to discover why she was so upset. I had destroyed her entire apartment. Glass was shattered all over the floor from me busting mirrors that she decorated her home with. Tiffany was obsessed with mirrors. Never quite understood why. It was strange.

Boxes were dumped out onto the floor. Papers scattered everywhere. Her furniture was turned over and I laid in a huge pile of our family photos.

I must have gone into a drunk rage and blacked out in the process.

"What is the matter with you? Why did you do this?" She was crying at this point. A mixture of confused, angry, concerned, and disappointed.

"I don't remember doing any of this, Tiff. I'm so sorry. I'll clean it up." I sat up and massaged my forehead as I glanced around in disbelief.

She wiped her cheeks before she crossed her arms. "Damn right you will," She paused as her eyebrow curved into the shape of a question mark, "What are you doing here anyways? You never come over. Honestly, this is probably the first time you've been here since I got this apartment almost three years ago."

"I was looking for something." I hesitated as I wrapped my arms around my knees.

"Don't you think calling and asking for whatever it is, would have been easier?"

"Well... yes," I choked on my words with embarrassment, "I was drunk and must have blacked out. Heather jumped down my throat after the funeral. She started accusing me saying I was responsible for what happened to Lacey. I was angry."

She ran her fingers through her blackish-brown hair as she nodded in understanding. "Well... Did you?"

"Of course not!" I defensively leaped to my feet.

Tiffany held her hands up in surrender. "I'm just saying your relationship was a little," She hesitated, trying to be careful with her words, "messy."

"Everyone's relationships are messy from time to time." I retaliated.

"Not in the way yours was."

I glared into her golden-brown eyes and I watched pity dance around her pupils. "I loved her."

"I know you did, but maybe too much."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You were so in love with her to the point that you were possessive and obsessed over her. You were afraid of her leaving so you made sure you had her trapped and in your view at all times."

"I'm not talking about this with you right now." I violently turned my back to her and I began scooping up the papers off the ground.

"Okay," she whispered as awkward silence filled the room before she spoke again, "What were you looking for?"

"Dad's latest research."

She began to stutter, "You're not going to try..." Her words trailed off.

"Yes, I am."

"Dad's research killed our parents, Christian. I'm not going to hand it over to you."

"We don't know that. Their bodies were never found, and we still don't know what happened to them." I faced her after I sat down the papers on the end table. Her hand was over her mouth as she was continuously shaking her head.

"I still won't risk it."

"Where is the research, Tiffany? In his office?" I was growing impatient. She was wasting time. I needed to save Lacey.

"I don't know." She stepped away from me and barricaded herself against a wall.

"Where is it!?" I yelled as I pounded my fist against the wall beside her.

"I honestly don't know! His research was never found. All that was left was a note."

The Mad Scientist loved his puzzles.

"Give it to me."

She closed her eyes as she sobbed uncontrollably. With shaking hands, she pointed towards a large canvas that our mother painted a month prior to their disappearance. "He wrote it on the back."

Chapter 5

I remember every day after school, I rode the bus to my father's science lab. It was the best part of my day. I learned more there than I ever did in class.

"If light is a particle that travels in waves, wouldn't time be able to do the same?" My father would question.

"But you can see light. You can't physically see time."

"Time is measurable, though. Is it not?" He countered as he wrote TIME IS MEASURABLE on his black board. "We can measure time in all sorts of ways. The main way we know is Earth-Based. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. Months. Years! But no one considers the other scales of time. Time travels different in galaxies and other planets, and Earth's time is based on the rotation in our galaxy. When we orbit around the sun, moon, as well as Earth's rotation on its own axis."

"But none of those time measurements are consistent with each other."

"And why is that?" He knelt down in front of me as his eyes beamed at me.

"I don't know. Maybe," I paused, "maybe there is a lapse in time or an unknown variable that allows time to speed up or slow down."

"Or go backwards." He finished my thought in a whisper as we stared into each other's eyes for a moment. My eyes matched his; so dark they could be considered black and they matched our silky jet-black hair.

He snapped out of his train of thought as he rose to his feet. "Our goal, son, is to discover the unknown variable that can make the appropriate changes to time."

"What if the variable is something that cannot be seen or measured?" I questioned as I felt my brainstorming with possibilities. I loved these moments with my father. They were so invigorating and fulfilling. It was a puzzle that we had to connect, and we were missing the final piece to see the whole picture.

We loved our puzzles.

"Like a state of mind?"

"Yeah," I hesitated, afraid that my thoughts were reaching way too far out of the scientific box, "maybe the variable is a perception, like reality."

My father's mouth dropped as I watched an idea pop into his mind. "Reality could be our unknown variable." He wrote REALITY= UNKNOWN VARIABLE onto the blackboard. He tapped his index knuckle onto his chin leaving chalk marks on his face.

"But reality can't be measured."

"But it can be altered,” he paused as he adjusted his thick framed glasses, “maybe how we see reality creates parallel universes.”

“We can’t just make up worlds in our heads.” I nervously chuckled as I began to gather my books and stuff them into my backpack.

“Why not? The human mind is a powerful and complex thing. It is capable of things that we have yet to discover.” He tapped his finger on his chin as he twisted his lips in deep thought.

“I don’t know, dad. I feel it would take more than just imagination to create worlds.” He was sounding insane.

He glared off in silence before he snapped back into our conversation. “Yeah, you’re probably right son.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders as he softly squeezed me into his chest. “Let’s hurry home before we are late for dinner again. Remember last time we stayed in the lab too long. Your mother was not happy.” He smiled and we laughed as we locked everything up.

That was the last time I saw my father genuinely smile. After that moment, he fell deeper down this dark hole and his mind spiraled out of control. I don’t remember much after that day. Maybe I mentally blocked it out to protect myself, but now wasn’t the time to be selfish. If I wanted to bring Lacey back into this world, I needed to break the chains from the darkest parts of my mind. I needed to follow my father down his whirlpool of insanity.

I breathlessly stared at the picture. It was an old wooden cabin with a wraparound porch with a large leafless tree in the front. The lake near the house was frozen over and snow suffocated the ground as the moon glowed brightly in the sky. I remembered where we were when my mother painted this picture. We were enjoying the New York snow while we stayed on the outskirts of town for peace and quiet. Dad had been working endless hours in the lab and Mom thought it would be best if we spent quality time together. It was the first time in months that we felt like a normal family again. I didn’t realize until now that it was their final goodbye in case, they didn’t come back from wherever they were going.

My hands were shaking, and the inside of my palms were sweating as I gently removed the canvas from the wall. I gently flipped the painting over and oxygen forced its way from my lungs as my father’s handwriting appeared into my vision.

It was a note to me.

Christian,

You know my work better than anyone. If I don’t come back, only you will know where to find me.

Love,

Dad

Chapter 6

“What are you going to do, Chris?” My sister sobbed as I shockingly cradled the painting in my palms. They must be alive. Maybe he knew that it was a one-way ticket and he would need help getting back.

My help.

Or maybe he had already seen this day coming. Maybe he knew that I was going to need his research to save my beloved Lacey just like he used it to save Dylan.

Did he succeed?

So many questions and what if scenarios. My mind was spinning. I thought I was going to faint.

“Chris?”

“He never hid his work…” I whispered as I traced my fingers over his written words.

“What do you mean?”

“He kept his work in the safest place he could think of,” I paused as I glanced over my shoulder at Tiffany, “in his mind.”

“I don’t understand. That means you would have to find him and talk to him. How are you going to be able to find him if you don’t even know how he traveled to wherever it is that he traveled to?” She questioned as she scratched her scalp and shook her head in confusion.

“I know how he did it…” The answer was right in front of me all along, trapped inside my memory ready to be discovered.

“How?”

“Imagination…”

“You sound insane.” She threw her hands in the air as she began to pace the living room floor.

“It’s a theory that father and I created.”

“It’s just a theory, Chris! An idea derived from unrealistic factors and grief! There is no evidence that father had a solid theory. I won’t let you lose your mind just like dad!”

“I lost my mind years ago, Tiff. Dad’s research might be the only thing that will help me get it back.” My soft eyes met hers. I could see the fear in her eyes, but I saw a sparkle of belief. It was almost like she knew what I was saying carried some truth, but she didn’t want to admit it. She knows more than she leads on. She doesn’t want to share that information.

I quickly stormed passed her and headed straight for the door.

“Chris…” She whispered. I tilted my head towards her but kept my eyes fixated to the ground. “If you don’t come back then I’ll be completely alone.” She paused as she choked on her tears. “Please don’t leave me in this world alone.”

“I won’t,” I swallowed to hold back the tears that wanted to escape from my tear ducts, “I promise.” Before she could say anything else, I escaped out the door and headed straight for the Mad Scientist’s lab.

Chapter 7

With steady hands, I inserted the key and twisted the lock to my father’s office. Everything was still the same from how he left it. Papers scattered all over the desk. White chalk smeared on the blackboard.

But there was one thing that was different.

The black table I always sat at after school had a small lamp and it was turned on. From the distance I could see a white sheet of paper. I hurried over and nervously engulfed it in my fingertips. My father’s handwriting appeared in front of me again. The ink was still wet as if he had just written it seconds before I had arrived.

There are portals that can take us where we want to go. We just must open our minds to find them. Our life MIRRORS what we IMAGINE it to be.

An image of Tiffany’s apartment flashed in my mind. She was obsessed with mirrors. Were mirrors the portals that could transport us through time? Through worlds? Has she been communicating with our parents all this time?

The walls rumbled, snapping me out of my train of thought and a reflection of light grasped my attention. A long, rectangular mirror was rocking back and forth as it dangled from the nail that attached it to the wall. I glanced down at my father’s note once more before I slowly walked towards the mirror.

I adjusted my black leather jacket as I stared at myself in the mirror. Dark circles cradled the bottom of my eyes, my black hair was combed to side but was sticking up at the ends, and my pale skin looked sick and dehydrated.

Our life mirrors what we imagine it to be….

Could it really be that simple?

I closed my eyes as I pictured my father wearing charcoal gray button-down shirt and black business slacks. I imagined him adjusting his glasses like he always did when he was nervous or deep in thought. I thought of my mother with her long, wavy, chocolate-brown hair as her dark blue eyes beamed at me with pure joy. I imagined her wearing her favorite silk blouse that was designed with yellow roses and her casual light blue jeans. She wore her favorite red lipstick that brought out her rosy cheeks. Her smile made me feel safe and adored.

I held onto my thoughts of my parents as I slowly placed my fingertips on the mirror. I gasped when I felt a thick liquid mixture instead of cold hard glass. I pushed my hand further through the barrier as I uneasily opened my eyes. The liquid mixture was engulfing my arm and the more I walked into the barrier, the more my body became consumed into the portal.

As I fully submerged myself into the mirror, all I could see was black. It was completely silent and empty but I continued to push myself forward until I saw a small light appear. The light became brighter and brighter until it blinded me, causing me the feel my way through with my arms reached out in front of me. I felt what I believed to be a door and pushed it open. As I walked through, the light dimmed, and my vision began to clear. I began to hear voices followed by laughter in the distance. My eyes began to water as I blinked continuously to remove the fuzziness in my view.

And then I saw them. Exactly how I was imagining them.

They were standing in the kitchen of our childhood home preparing pancakes and bacon on a typical Saturday morning.

I wanted to cry.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to engulf them in my arms and tell them how much I loved and missed them.

“There he is!” My father exclaimed as he flipped a pancake in the pan. “You must be hungry, and I know you can’t turn down my pancakes. I made an extra stack just for you!” He nudged his elbow towards a plate on the counter.

“Your brother should be down any second. He will be ecstatic to see you!” My mother flashed her signature smile.

“Dylan?” I stuttered as I still fought to catch my breath.

“Do you have another brother we don’t know about?” Mom giggled. “He can’t wait to see how grown up you are.”

“Take a seat, champ!” Dad insisted but my feet were frozen in the doorway.

“This isn’t real…” I began to hyperventilate as I crouched over, placing my palms on my knees. My stomach began to turn. I was going to be sick.

“Christian, take a breath.” My father slowly walked towards me. “You’ll be ejected from this world if you don’t calm down.” He gently wrapped his arm around my shoulders and then squeezed me into his chest… just like he always did.

I exhale a deep breath as I felt goosebumps confiscate my skin. His touch was surreal and real all at the same time. My body craved for more. I missed his embrace.

He helped me stand up straight as I finally locked my eyes on him. I submerged every curve and imperfection on his face that I may have taken for granted before.

“I know you have questions and I will provide those answers,” He assured as he slowly guided me to the kitchen table, “but let’s get situated and reunited first. Okay?” I nodded in agreement as he comforted me with a smile.

“We have been waiting for this moment for a long time.” Mom gleamed as she brought me a cup of coffee. “Still like it black?”

“With a splash of whiskey.”

“Christian!” She scorned as she furrowed her brows. I knew she was getting ready to lecture me.

“Oh, honey. He’s a grown man. Let him have some whiskey. This is a big shock for him right now.” Dad yelled from the kitchen.

She rolled her eyes before she retrieved the whiskey bottle from the cabinets.

“Thanks.” I whispered as she handed me the bottle and I quickly drowned my coffee in liquor. She disappointingly scoffed before she took a seat next to me.

Dad began to set the table as I heard commotion coming from upstairs. Then, I heard footsteps racing down and within a flash, there he was.

Dylan.

- To be continued....

- H.M. Cantu