Easter Saturday—we receive the first rain of the season and there is a notable chill in the air. It is an appropriately sombre day. The air is filled with a grey curtain of rain. I feel restless, confused and helpless. I pace the house in silence. I feel so fragile. I walk slowly, delicately, tentatively placing my foot on the floor so as not to disturb the cool air around me. Any sudden movement, any jolt, any loud noise would surely shatter me into a thousand pieces and I would float slowly, silently, to the floor in a pile of dust.

I gaze out the window at the misty rain. Is it rain or my tear-filled eyes? I feel the cold of the air on my skin and shiver.

Where are you Ciara? Are you cold, or has your captor, in a moment of kindness, allowed you to wear your jacket?