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“Okay. Focus on just your throat. Keeping your eyes closed, can you tell me what sensations you feel?”

“Like?”

“Hot, cold, tight, sore?”

I swallow. “I told you, vodka.”

“So, it burns?”

I nod.

“What else?”

I try to swallow. “Feels like someone’s doing this.” I wrap a hand around the front of my throat.

“Like someone’s choking you?”

I nod.

“Can you see who’s there choking you?”

My eyes shift, searching behind my eyelids.

I shake my head.

“Are you still standing before your coach?”

I flick her words out of the way to look around.

“No,” I mumble.

“Can you describe where you are?”

I can’t see shit, but I feel…something. I clear my throat. “It’s dark.”

“Okay. What else do you see?”

I rub the heel of my palm into my sternum as a room comes into shape. “Same room.”

“The large room with a fireplace?”

I nod.

“Is the fireplace on?”

I nod again.

“Okay, and where are you?”

Where I always am. Sliding down the wall.

“In the corner.”

“Standing or hunched down?”

“Hunched down.”

“Okay. Does it feel okay to stand up?”