Her bed is about 80 centimetres above the floor; that should not be anything. When you are unable to move, an 80 centimetre fall hurts. She wakes up with a clenched jaw and she cannot really breathe. She can speak. She says, “Safeword,” into the air. Someone is doing this to her. No-one hears her. She is sweating profusely. “Safeword!” She jerks and falls off the bed, and starts to lose feeling in her toes, the lack-of-feeling crawling up her legs. “Safeword,” she whispers, and it takes as much energy as a full-lung scream. But it doesn’t work that way.