The bright blazing flashes she sees in the night should put to rest any bullshit theories about dreams being in black and white. Scarlet and gold, silver and amber, sear her mind, and lightning screams across a national blue sky with the anguish of a soul being torn from its body by the roots. She has to run, because she knows that scream and she doesn't leave her peeps behind. Speed's not her game, but that doesn't matter when she has to run.

A familiar smile, a familiar face, but rigid and stiff in a death's head grin, and the life in it is false as bootleg DVDs on subway platforms, even as the figure lurches towards her, dimmed and blurred by a haze of… not smoke, and she doesn't know how she knows, only that she knows. A voice she hasn't heard, hasn't wanted to hear, in years, calling for her to have a revelation and come on back home. She runs, because there's nothing else she can do. She runs, because life is better than death and death is better than unlife. She runs, but the arms that shelter her are pushing her away, pushing her towards the thing that will twist her body and steal her soul, and that soft voice is telling her everything will be okay, all she has to give up is her very essence…

She wakes with a scream trapped behind her teeth. City girl, street smart even off the streets, she keeps it there to keep from breaking the fragile peace that holds in the bedroom- and the bed. The dream must have been worse than she thought, because Monty and Lexi bracket her, symbols of the unholy alliance this hell has created: UConn, Tennessee, Rutgers.

Alexis is still mostly asleep, a comforting weight against her back and over her waist, but Renee's brown eyes hold concern, compassion, and questions. She can't answer them, though. The truce among them depends on certain names not being spoken: Ajavon, Strother, Parker, Carson, Conlon, Catchings. So she shrugs off Renee's concern and hides back under the sheet, letting Renee's hand find Alexis's over the neutral ground of her back.