Lake Ontario

Prologue

The two masked figures dragged the boy to the edge of the water.

It was three o'clock in the morning.

The lights were bright in the city of Toronto, but the residents of Ontario's capital were asleep.

Few cars roamed the streets at the time.

In a few hours, every student across the city would be rushing to their first period classes.

Every student.

Except Dante.

He was beat up and bruised. Badly.

Dirt and blood enveloped his face.

It has been a week since Dante last saw his family.

The police have been trying to find his whereabouts; posting AMBER alerts and pictures of his face downtown.

Dante was all over the news.

Dante was not involved in gangs.

He was not known for trouble.

He was the kind of student teachers expected to graduate.

What could have put him in this position?

One of the masked figures pushed Dante away and looked him in the eyes.

He stared at him for several seconds.

Nonstop.

No blinking.

Not even an ounce of pity.

The other figure pulled out a pistol.

Tears ran down Dante's cheeks.

An innocent black teenager from Scarborough.

A son.

A sibling.

A boyfriend.

Just a few days ago he was playing Fortnite with his friends and sleeping during class lectures.

Now all 18 years of his life are flashing before his eyes.

"Wait! Please! I'm not lying, I promise! You have to believe me!"

The figures did not respond.

"I'll do anything... I'll help in any way I can.
Th-There has to be something I can do...I'm just a kid fam what are we doing?"

The figure raised the gun and pointed it at Dante.

Every bit of color drained from Dante's face.

"Okay okay okay okay...Hold on! Wait! I-I can tell you what you want to hear! I'm sure I know somebody who knows somebody who can get you what you want, you know? You just gotta let me go. Come on! We can figure this out together!"

Slowly, the figure walked up to Dante.

He took the cold, metal pistol and pressed it onto Dante's forehead.

As he leaned closer to Dante's dirty, bloody face,

The corners of his mouth slowly curled upwards.

Then, in a low, sinister voice, he said,

"You had your chance."

Then he whispered something in Dante's ear.

The moment Dante heard him.

His eyes widened.

Whatever the man whispered...

Dante stopped begging.

For the first time that night.

He looked terrified.

"Woah woah woah, wait, wait, listen, I- "

BANG.

BANG.

...

Thud.

Dante dropped on the sand.

His eyes stared into the distance.

The figure who shot Dante stood over his body.

He watched for a few seconds.

Then he looked at the other figure standing next to him.

"Throw him in."

The figure nodded and picked Dante up.

"We gotta clean all this up," he said. "They not gonna want any evidence...not even a piece of hair."

The figure with the gun chuckled.

"Nobody's going to find him"

"True. But you know we don't got all of them on our side. It's better to be safe than sorry"

The figure with the gun sighed. He was visibly annoyed.

He threw the gun to the figure carrying Dante's corpse over his shoulder.

"Then throw the gun in with him too. And burn your clothes while you're at it since you wanna move like a hired fucking hitman."

"I mean, we are kind of a-"

"Shut up."

The figure walked back into the building.

The other figure, now carrying Dante and a gun, took a piece of leftover rope from his pocket, and tied the rope to Dante's leg and a nearby boulder.

He rolled the boulder into the water.

Then, he picked the gun up and threw it as far as he could.

SPLASH.

The figure watched as the gun and Dante sunk to the bottom of the lake.

Then walked back to the warehouse.

The ripples from the splashes slowly faded away.

And after a few seconds,

Lake Ontario looked as it had minutes before.

Quiet.

Empty.

Like nothing ever happened.