I wasn’t elevated, so I couldn’t be in my bed, up in the chalet’s loft. I figured I was in one of the guesthouse rooms. There weren’t many identifying features; the room was dimly lit and the curtains drawn. That was annoying, because I couldn’t tell the time and I didn’t want to be one of those clichés whose first questions upon waking were ‘What time is it?’ or ‘How long was I out?’ Two shadows held a murmured conversation across the room, unaware that I’d come to. My right hand had a constant, pulsing ache. I pushed the covers down to inspect the damage and realised I was wearing a floral oven mitt. I tugged at it, wincing as the glove resisted. I put one finger in the opening and felt a sticky membrane; it seemed like my skin had scabbed into the cotton fibres. I’d fused to the damn glove.

Someone put a hand on my shoulder, stopping me pulling. ‘I wouldn’t.’ I looked up and saw Juliette, the resort owner, shaking her head. Katherine was behind her. ‘You don’t want to see it.’

Katherine offered me a pill from a small orange bottle. I took it, inspected it. ‘Oxycodone, painkiller. It’s the serious stuff,’ she said, by way of explanation. That was enough for me, I popped it in my mouth. She thought for a second, wondering how possessing such pills reflected on her sobriety, I guessed, and added defensively, ‘For my leg.’

I disappointed myself by asking, ‘How long was I out?’

Katherine walked to the window and pulled the curtains back, revealing the same black forever sky I’d fallen asleep under the night before. It looked like it had stopped snowing, but the wind must have still been high: the window rattled in its frame.

‘A few hours,’ said Juliette. I pulled myself up into a sitting position, which caused a coughing fit and a scramble to maintain my dignity as the sheets moved. Katherine passed me a white hotel robe, flat hand shielding her view. I realised that Marcelo was also in the room, sitting on a small couch, just watching all of us. This was surprising; although he could never be accused of being absent, he also wasn’t a sit-by-the-bed type of step-parent.

My coughing kept going, stars bursting across my vision. Too much too early. Juliette pushed me back into the bed, demanding I rest. She held a hand out to Katherine, who shook her head, stingy with the pills. Juliette cleared her throat loudly, and I recognised Katherine’s resigned sigh. The next thing I felt was the slim pill wriggling between my lips. Then everything got murky, and I was underwater once again.