ALANA

I stared at the tiny notebook in my head with trepidation.

I am holding the key to the truth about my identity. Here, in these small pieces of my paper lies the secrets to my past.

Putting the photo of my parents back into my pockets and breathing hard, I opened the notebook and read the first words written by blood on the first page.

The scent of an old-age blood similar to mine flared into my nostrils and made my hair stand ...