I am in a mist, but not the dark mist or fogs of moisture and pollution. It is a bright mist without sensation or substance. It embraces me and I feel...no physical touch but know it is the embrace of welcome. If I am loved and cared for, I must be, I am, but who am I? I try to remember who the ‘I’ is and there is only a dark shadow of pain. I cease trying to remember. The mist is retreating, dissolving and I am no longer in a misty embrace. Shapes emerge, strange and without form at first, then. He led her into the house by her hair and directed her down a flight of steps. It was freezing as she was pushed down to her knees on the hard concrete floor. He ordered her to stay still as fear coursed through her body. The blindfold heightening her other senses, she could hear him walk around the room, moving things, looking for something. Her body tingling with goosebumps and her nipples straining against the fabric of her bra, she was grateful when she heard the order to get to her feet. More

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