WhiteFish

WhiteFish - Part 1

Today I would find a dead woman in my house. I had arrived home from school two hours prior, my routine meant I did homework for thirty minutes, then prepared dinner. I made chicken pot pies, made from scratch. The kitchen smelt incredible; this was one of my favourite dishes to make along with Mongolian beef. I was listening to a new pop playlist, moving my hips and swinging my hair, when I heard the crash, glass breaking, from the master bedroom. I quickly turn to look, wondering if I should bother at all, I already knew what I would find.

Quin and I watch the city lights from atop Drapis Cliff, a local-known spot where you can see the entire city. I've already told him what I found today, he understands that I don't want to talk any more about it. He's kept my mind busy, telling me about his progress with his project car- a 1980-something VW beetle, in a year it's gone from just a frame to a frame with tires and axles. He's the leader of a garage band calls "Mastiffs", like the dog breed, he's the vocalist and they specialize in heavy metal, of course. His voice has become harsher the last few years, it's almost like he's forcing out the words now, like it hurts.

"Hey, Quin." I stop him mid-sentence, as he's talking about diesel engines versus gasoline.

"Yea, what's up?" He replies, a bit too cheerfully, leaning closer to me and touching his hand to mine.

"I want to get out of the city. I think I might drive to Raetin and get a hotel." It was past midnight, I wasn't physically tired, just mentally and socially.

"I know somewhere we can go, how about camping?" Quin beams and points past the city, "A place called WhiteFish, an abandoned town that very few people know about. We can stay as long as you want, we can sleep in separate houses." His eyebrow raises.

"There's houses?"

"Old ones, a couple may have some type of power, but that's part of camping, isn't it?"

At this point, what do I really have to lose? I have no siblings, my parents were never present, my only friend is Quin. We stop at a Fas Gas and fill up my van, then the local and expensive grocery store to spend all our pennies on a bunch of nothing. Lots of canned items. Quin is an avid talker and talks my ear off from the moment we left town. I clean off my windows and check the tire pressure, then we begin our journey to Whitefish.

I try to enjoy the moment but, there isn't an scenery to look at, the sky is dark without a single star in sight and I would hate to see any wildlife right now. I eventually tell Quin to let me relax for a minute and focus on driving, I turn down the radio's volume, the screaming is driving me insane.

Quin has a permanent smile; it pisses me off. Every time I look his direction, he is already looking at me, with this huge grin. He agrees to quiet down but stretches his arm out so his hand rests on my thigh. He makes me irrationally angry. I don't want to be touched. This is going to be a long and stressful drive. I roll my window all the way down to tune him out a bit, continuous "what?", hoping that he will get the hint soon enough. The cold air helps to keep me awake.

It's another two hours before Quin talks about something useful.

"We need to stop at this gas station coming up, it's the last one we'll see until we decide to come back to Inglewood." He points to a dimly lit gas bar, a small convenience store attached.

We pull up to the gas pumps, where we are prompted to pay inside before pumping, I head in and tell Quin to stay behind. It's almost three in the morning now, the air outside is calm and still. As I walk into the gas station, missing posters of children in the area cover the entire entrance door, front and back.