Sophie Quinn was walking home from school when her mother texted, asking her to pick up milk for dinner. Sophie rolled her eyes. Why was she always stuck with chores? Just because she was the oldest child still living at home? Aiden, her older brother, was lucky; he'd escaped their apartment and lived on his own.

She felt a pang of sympathy for him. He probably used to do all the chores.

Annoyed, Sophie kicked a bottle cap lying on the sidewalk. It bounced off a brick wall and hit a dark shape in the alley. Was that a person?

"Hey, are you okay?" she cried, stepping closer.

She stopped short at the sight of blood. A scream escaped her, attracting passersby. She could only point at the body in mute horror.

Someone called 911 as Sophie fainted.

When she opened her eyes, three orange heads swam into focus—her family's worried faces.

"Mom," she croaked, "I'm sorry I couldn't get the milk."

Ava Quinn shook her head, clasping Sophie's hands. "Don't apologize, darling. You wouldn't have been there if I hadn't asked! I'm sorry."

"What happened to Sophie, Mommy?" asked Jack, her three-year-old half-brother.

Aiden and Ava exchanged a worried glance. They didn't want to discuss a corpse in front of Jack.

"I wasn't feeling well, so I passed out," Sophie lied, unwilling to shatter Jack's innocence. Her older family members clearly knew what had happened. She shuddered, remembering the lifeless, sea-green eyes.

"All better now?" Jack persisted, worried.

She nodded, touched by his concern. Normally, she didn't care much for Jack; she resented the constant babysitting. She hadn't asked for her mother's remarriage and a new baby while she was a teenager.

"I feel much better. Thanks, buddy."

A nurse whispered to Ava, who nodded and took a reluctant Jack away, promising to bake Sophie's favorite cookies. This cheered him up.

Aiden sat down, his brow furrowed. It was unusual to see him so worried; he was usually a goofball.

"Mom's taking Jack home because the police want to talk to you. They're waiting downstairs," he said grimly. "I'll be here. You're a minor; you're allowed an adult with you."

Normally, Sophie would scoff at the idea of her video-game-addicted brother being a "real adult," but he looked awfully serious. She was glad he was there.

She buried her face in her hands. The sight of the dead woman had been horrific. She'd have nightmares for weeks.

"Sophie Quinn?" a gentle female voice asked from the doorway. The voice didn't match the woman's tough appearance.

"That's me," Sophie said dully.

"I'm sorry for what happened. How are you feeling?"

"Freaked out. At least my head doesn't hurt. My mom said someone caught me before I hit the ground."

The woman smiled. "Understandable. I'm Detective Flynn. Can my partner, Detective Ruano, and I ask you some questions?"

Sophie nodded, nervously twisting the bedsheets. Aiden placed a protective hand on her shoulder. She'd never appreciated her lazy brother more.

The detectives sat down. Detective Flynn began, "Start from the beginning. Include details and times. It will help our investigation."

Taking a deep breath, Sophie recounted her day. "I got out of school at 2:45 PM. My mom texted at…" She checked her phone. "…3:02 PM. I was walking for about five minutes before I kicked the bottle cap and hit the body. That's how I found her. Um… who was she?"

Detective Ruano spoke. "We don't know yet. No identification was found."

Sophie wasn't sure if that was good or bad. Knowing a name would make it real, but not knowing might haunt her forever.

"Could you tell me when you find out?" she asked.

"Of course. Your peace of mind is important. I recommend seeing a therapist."

Sophie frowned. Her mom couldn't afford a therapist. "I don't think I can—"

"I'll cover it," Aiden said firmly. "I have a good job."

Sophie was surprised. He lived in a cramped apartment in Washington Heights and worked in IT. But he didn't have roommates and owned a car—unusual for someone in their early twenties in Manhattan.

"May we have your contact information, Miss Quinn?" Detective Flynn asked.

Sophie gave them her number and address, accepting Detective Flynn's business card. She never expected to be involved in a murder case, let alone as a witness at seventeen.

(The final promotional sentence was removed as it was irrelevant to the text and seemed out of place.)