Innocent Until Found Dead

Chapter Two

"We all have an unsuspected reserve of strength that emerges when life puts us to the test."

—Isabel Allende

The next morning, Quinn woke up to a pounding headache and dark, monster-like bags under her eyes, an ugly, unwanted souvenir of a restless night. The shrill buzz of her alarm drilled into her skull, intensifying the pain. She groaned and slapped the big red silence button, desperate for relief. Reflexively, she reached for the pill bottles on her bedside table, only to find an empty space where they should have been.

"Crap, Hunter," she muttered, her voice thick with frustration as she forced herself out of bed.

Moving felt like wading through molasses; every step was an effort. She dragged herself through the motions of getting dressed, each piece of clothing feeling heavier than the last. The thought of school gnawed at her—she wanted nothing more than to skip it, feign sickness, or pull a last-minute injury. But she knew Hunter would see right through it. She couldn't get anything past him, not even on her worst days.

Quinn slipped downstairs when she finished packing her school supplies in her backpack. Right when she reached the hallway, Hunter burst through the front door of her house uninvited.

"Yo."

"Why don't you come on in," Quinn grumpily mumbled, raising her eyebrows as he shut the door behind him. The noise made her head ache even more.

"Good morning to you too, goddess of kindness and sunshine," Hunter scoffed, handing her a warm blueberry bagel with cream cheese spread in the middle. "I brought you breakfast because I knew you would be late."

"Sorry...Thanks," Quinn sighed, rubbing the knot on the back of her neck with her hand as she took the bagel out of his hands. "I had a restless night. And I'm not late. What time is it?"

"Yeah, you are. It's seven-thirty. We were supposed to leave at seven-ten. Let's go. You can eat in the car," Hunter grabbed her hand and hastily pulled her to the door. Quinn clung onto her backpack and slipped one of the straps over her shoulders, then took a bite of her bagel as Hunter shoved her into the passenger side of his car. The flavor from the bread touching her tongue made her mouth water.

"Hey, what the—" Quinn frowned and munched on her bagel as he buckled her seatbelt. When he closed her side of the car door, he hopped in the driver's seat and started his car. Quinn stared at him and raised his eyebrows. "Are you stressed out or anxious about something? We've been late to school before, and you've never seemed to care that much,"

"I'm fine," Hunter shook his head but didn't smile. He threw his backpack at her and drove forward. "There's a small plastic bag with two ibuprofen tablets in there for your head if needed, and the others are your anxiety and depression meds–the correct dose. I'm in charge of how much drugs you put into your body from now on, alright?"

"Yeah, sure," Quinn frowned. He was acting strange. "What's up with you?"

"I'm fine. I'm just tired. I didn't get that much sleep last night, okay?" Hunter snipped.

"Okay, if you say so," she shrugged, looking at the road ahead. Hunter eyed her.

She eyed him. He shifted in his seat. Quinn did the same.

"Okay, what is it?" Quinn groaned.
"I'm just not in the mood to talk about it right now," Hunter finally admitted as they paused at a stoplight. Quinn glanced over at him, noticing the exhaustion that seemed to cling to him. His hair was somewhere between tame and unruly—like he'd tried to fix it but gave up halfway. There were faint circles under his eyes, and he was slouched in his seat, his usual easy confidence dulled.