A/N-This fic was a kind of test for me. It's my first try at writing something first person,I'd really like to know what you all think!

And again,I would like to thank my beta,King Caspian the Seafarer, he made so many improvments,I should really call him the co-author on this one.

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I stand next to the phone, actually trembling. That was the worst call I have ever made in my life, calling the pastor to arrange the funeral for my parents, brothers, and sister.

Oh God, why?! Why did you take them away? Why couldn't I have at least been with them?

I seem to hear a voice inside me say, "You were not ready to go, Dear One," but I shake it off. My imagination must be blurred by my grief.

I hear a knock at the door; it, opposed to all that's been happening lately, sounds real and solid. I go over and open it, and a man—a government man—comes in.

"Are you Susan Pevensie?" he asks.

I can only shake my head 'yes', wondering fearfully who else I have left to lose, but the man doesn't have a message; only a box, which he holds out to me, saying gruffly, "These things were found with your brothers."

I take the box and mutter what I hope is a polite "Thank You," and "Goodbye," as the man leaves.

I walk slowly over to my couch, sink down onto a plush cushion, and open the box slowly, reverently. In it are four rings: two green and two yellow. I pick up a green ring.

It feels stranger to the touch and—wait! It's…humming!? This is not my imagination, for the humming is much too loud to be pretend. I reach for a yellow one, but halt with a jerk as if something—or someone—is stopping me.

Suddenly, realization dawns on me and I know.

Oh, Aslan, how could I forget you? Narnia…it was real. You were real—are real. These rings are proof.

Did you take them away because of me? Did all of those people die because of me?

Why did I have to leave Narnia? I was happy there. You were there. You said you would be here, too, but I can't find you. Where are you, Aslan!?

I again hear the voice, and this time I listen.

"There is more in the box, Dear One."

I dig deeper in the box, careful not to touch the yellow rings, and I find a book. I gasp when I see the cover, for it's a Bible! A pocket New Testament. I open it up to the first page and find these words written on the empty page: "Aslan! He's in here! John 3:16, Roman's 6:23."

I look up the verses and read them with trembling fingers. Aslan's identity is no longer a secret to me.

Dear Jesus, thank you for waking me up. Thank you for showing me why everything happened. I know I should have listened to you; I should have looked for you as soon as I got back from my second trip to Narnia, but I was angry with you. I didn't understand. I do now.

Please forgive me for everything that I have done. Make me ready to be with you again.

Help me to love you as I once did, and even more now that I know your name here.

Amen.