Snake Stone
Run up the stairs, past the woman you called your mother, the man you called your father. They call your name… but that is not your name. Not James. Sammy.
The name she chose.
Run into your room, lock the door. Two strides exactly to the sole place of comfort in this world: your bed. A source of comfort, yes, but also a treasure trove of hidden memories.
Reach under the mattress. Find the cool, hard surface of the stone. Push it aside. Hear the papers rustle under your touch and pull them from under the mattress. Sit down. Look… for what must be the hundredth time.
You've memorised the words, but can only take one in.
Adoption.
That's the biggest one, the hardest to understand. It glares at you, a great, bold, fearless word. Hide it under the mattress again. You can't stand to even look at it anymore.
Turn to the second piece, fiercely wipe away reluctant tears. Half an envelope is the surface on which this… clue, this cryptic clue, is written. The words make no more sense than the surface they are written on. Turn to the mattress again… and take out the stone.
The stone. Your stone. The snake stone… so named because of the entrancing and perfect coil it forms, almost like a snails shell Hold it, gaze in wonder, tears no longer pricking your eyes like hot needles. Feel the cool, smooth surface and wonder yet again where it came from…
Where you came from.
Your "family" is made up of strangers.
You just want to go home.
But… where is that?
Where is she?