I’d woken up in the middle of the night. My face is full cold. Sinuses blocked, can’t breathe through my nose. Suddenly, the bed tips up, and I slide out between the duvet and the mattress.
My back hits the ice. Skin rips from bone, streaking the slope like a crayon made of meat.
I try to claw at something but my fingers just skip over the ice, useless.
Back on the mattress, I’m not sure how long I’ve been sliding. Could be seconds. Could be days. There’s a light ahead, but it bends weird, like it’s afraid to touch me.