Joy was used to having nightmares about her old bedroom; the blood on the floor, the window shattered, the wall buckling in. But for the first time in three months, she had a dream of a bedroom instead of a nightmare—of her bedroom, though she had never seen it before. She woke. Reality snapped back onto her like claws sinking into her chest. Her skin ached with the cold; the grimy quilt she clutched around her was doing little to stop the tremor in her limbs. A cold light