Whispered voices. A bright light above my head. Soft shuffling and rustling. Steady beeping. A gentle touch against my face, caressing my stinging skin.

I opened my eyes. I was in a pale blue-green room, the color of lichen growing in the forest. Cream colored sheets covered the bed I laid on, soft and warm beneath my bruised body. Numerous bones were broken and bandaged, and I could taste my most recent batch of medication (painkillers, no doubt) on my tongue.

Two blurry faces hovered near my side, lines creasing with a mixture of worry and relief.

"She's awake." A female voice, clipped but warm and caring. Belonging to one of the faces that began to come into focus.

"Nurse!" A different voice, belonging, belonging to a man. The second face. But where was Huggy? I wanted to ask, but my head was still spinning from the effort of waking.

I struggled, trying to sit up, but the woman gently pushed me back down. Good thing, too. A wave of nausea washed over me, so I willingly complied.

"Juts rest, honey. You took quite a beating in that crash. It's a good thing my husband found you when he did," she said. She smiled apologetically. "Pardon me for not introducing myself. My name is Sarah, and this is my husband, Tom."

Tom. Sarah. Those names sounded familiar, like they meant something, but what?

I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn't know what to say. What would I call myself? Becky? WordGirl? So I said nothing.

"You know, you look just like our daughter," Sarah continued. "Lexi. She'd be close to 11 years old now. If she hadn't gone missing. It's hard to believe she's been gone for 10 years. A whole decade." She sighed wistfully, eyes cloudy with tear that threatened to fall.

Lexi. That name seemed significant somehow. Like it belonged to me…

Something clicked into place in my brain like a puzzle piece fitting into the surrounding pieces. No. It couldn't be, I thought. The chances are slim to none. Yet I knew in my heart it was true.

I gripped Sarah's hand, trying to find the strength to say something I never thought I would say.

"Mom. Dad. I'm home."