Kate appreciated Cecilia's attempt at agreement, but her pragmatic side was already reasserting itself. She wanted to know what the ID numbers meant, even if it hurt. She didn't want to be the one responsible for putting roadblocks in the way of them getting information. "Nothing except her name," she said in answer to Cecilia's question. "My mother abandoned me at the hospital after she gave birth." She'd never sugarcoated it for herself, and habit meant she wasn't doing it now. "My adoptive parents offered to help me find her - the state didn't have much in my file except my birth certificate - but I was angry at her still, and I didn't want to know. I know I have a father, given that I'm not the second coming of Christ, but beyond that I have nothing." Her expression solidified, hiding what she felt behind the neutral mask she'd perfected years ago, but her tone was bleak. "Well, except one thing."
She stood, walking to her desk slowly and carefully, as if afraid that if she bumped into something or or stepped too hard she might break into tiny pieces. She opened the drawer, pulling out the papers she'd received what felt like forever ago. "The day after I arrived was the test where we were all locked together in town and had to find the keys," she said as she returned. "The day after that was our house punishment for failing." She handed them over, a fine tremor in her fingertips traveling faintly down into the pages she knew by heart. Birth certificates, Katherine Grace and Caroline Joy. "That was what I got, as punishment. I thought it was a cruel joke, but if this numbering system is accurate, then those are real." Which was, in its own way, an even crueler joke than if they'd been fake.