My stepmother threw me into the snow to erase me from the world, but among rusted metal I found a missing girl’s poster with my same face… and that crumpled piece of paper opened the door to the embrace that gave me back my life…

Hannah came back to my bed, laid her forehead against my chest, and kept whispering, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

I wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault. I wanted to tell her that hearing her voice on the phone had saved me. But I still couldn’t speak. I only lifted my left hand and touched her hair.

Police and a social worker took DNA samples before I was discharged. The results would take a week.

A week.

For anyone else, it would have been a wait. For me, it was a cliff edge.

Hannah and Daniel took me home to Haven Ridge, far from the mountain cold. Their house was modest and bright, with flowerpots on the porch and the smell of fresh bread in the hall. Hannah showed me a small yellow bedroom with a quilt and a flowered lamp. From a drawer, she took out a stuffed alpaca.

“You used to sleep with this,” she whispered.

It smelled faintly of lavender. I had never had a toy of my own. I held it to my chest like something fragile and sacred.