Green.

I sat at in front of a computer in the library, the green cushion seat providing no comfort to my tensed shoulders. The air smelled old and stuffy.

I hunched over the keyboard, my fingers racing.

Green.

I pressed enter, and skimmed through the first page of the assigned ancestry site, browsing my last name.

Green.

I must say, this was one of the most interesting projects I've ever been given in English class. For the first time in my life, I was learning about my family, and our heritage, giving me something to be proud of. Something my parents would never be able to tell me themselves...

No. No.

I must not cry.

I will not...cry.

I massaged my temples, pushing away those thoughts. I could not decide which ancestry route to trace my family tree back to. Either my father's family, direct descendants of the Pamunkey tribe in Virginia, which is simply fantastic because I'm obsessed with Native American culture, or my mother's family, with even more ancient Scottish heritage, with possible royal blood.

My contemplation between the two choices was interrupted when something on the screen caught my eye.

On the side bar of the browser were "related articles."

Green Family Fire.

I clicked with a slam.

Family of Three Trapped in Burning Home. Two Dead. Child Miraculously Escapes.

I coiled back in my seat.

Yesterday evening, as horrified neighbors looked on, a blazing fire consumed the household of the Green family...

I didn't want to read it, but I couldn't stop myself.

The cause of the fire was later determined to have been faulty wiring. Due to no working smoke detectors in the home, the house was enveloped in flames while the family inside remained asleep.

I mustn't cry. I must not... cry.

All but one perished in the fire. Two-year-old Mary Green, who had mysteriously disappeared from her bedroom but later reappeared only two weeks prior to the fire, miraculously survived. It is unknown how she was able to escape from her window...

Wait.

What?

...who had mysteriously disappeared from her bedroom but later reappeared...

My eyes locked onto those words.

My hand shaking, I hovered the mouse over the text.

The letters turned blue.

I clicked, and was linked to another article on the same news website.

Girl Disappears From Room But Reappears the Next Day.

My nose almost touched the screen.

Today, two-year-old Mary Green was found in her room, after disappearing from her bedroom the night before. Police suspect kidnapping, but have no evidence nor any suspects to link to the crime.

My heart pounded out of my chest.

The morning before, Mrs. Annabelle Green reported going into her daughter's bedroom to wake her up. When she could not find her child, both parents franticly searched the house. Upon finding nothing, the police were dialed.

I ran my fingers through my hair.

The police searched the house, but there was not a trace of the child in question. It was suspected to be kidnapping, as there was no way the girl could have escaped by herself. The only window in her bedroom had been locked, and the glass was much too heavy for the child to lift on her own. However, no incriminating finger prints or other trace evidence was found on the scene.

This isn't, no.

This cannot be.

No one on the police force could describe their shock when the girl was found in her bedroom again the next day.

I sat there. My body was rusted into place like the tin man after sobbing his eyes out. My whole universe swirled into a black hole.

I was...

I breathed in.

Taken?

And then returned?!

My mind raced with questions.

Who took me? Why? Where did I go? How? Why did they return me? What happened to me?

Why had no one ever told me?

I stood up, my wooden green cushion chair sliding back, rage bubbling up inside me. I was fighting the urge to flip the table when I remembered something from the other article describing the fire that killed my parents.

Something odd.

I pulled the chair back, sat back down, and returned to the previous page.

I skimmed, until I found the place where I had stopped.

All but one perished in the fire. Two-year-old Mary Green... I skipped a couple of lines. ...Miraculously escaped. It is unknown how she was able to climb out of her window...

I remained entranced by the screen.

Examiners found it physically impossible for the toddler to have been able to escape through the only window in her room. Firefighters on the scene later said it was a miracle from God.

I fell back in my chair, and stared blankly off into space.

How was this all possible? That both these two unbelievable things occurred within two weeks of each other?

I swallowed.

And why me? How am I still alive? How? Why?

I tilted my head back up at the screen and returned to the article about my disappearance.

I looked at the photo of me on the left side of the article, two weeks prior to the fire, taken the day I was found again. I almost couldn't recognize myself, as I had changed so much. In the photo, I wore a pink night shirt with lavender leggings, little piggy tails, and only one sock. I appeared jovial, an innocent light flickering in my eyes.

That's not what a little girl that was just kidnapped looks like.

One sock?

Why is she wearing only one sock?

I returned to the article of the fire and studied the photo of me taken the night of the fire, forever capturing the single most horrendous night of my life. My two and a half-year-old self was crying, red faced, and screaming, with snot running down my upper lip. I was surrounded by medical examiners, about to be put into an ambulance.

The light from the twisting, blazing flames that consumed my home reflected in my eyes.

But my eyes themselves...

Were dead.

The flickering light of wonder in my eyes itself blown out like a candle.

I leaned back in my seat and strained my neck past the computer at the dusty printer that sat further down the table. Then I hit print on both articles, and of the blissful photo of me.

What happened to me?

The bell rang.

The weekend was finally here.

I leaped up from my chair and snatched the papers from the printer, the sheets still warm.

I looped my arm through the strap of my backpack and ran out of the library.

As long as it would take, I was going to find out.