Nico held her breath, trying to will herself away from here or, failing that, just vanish. If she hadn't been so drained from reliving that memory, she might have had the sense to stay on her feet so she could run -- but where could she run here, where their minds were linked?

Then he crouched down and pulled her into a hug and she dared to part her fingers and peek.

"It's not okay," she said, muffled by her hands. "I'm not supposed to be like that. I'm gonna turn out like--"

She bit her tongue, but there were things that you didn't have to say out loud when you were locked in a mind-share with someone.

--my parents.

Another snapshot memory: Nico, standing in an empty club, wiping her blood onto a mirror she held in her hands, hoping for some way to bring back a stupid dead boy who wasn't worth much but hadn't deserved to die. Instead, her reflection rippled and resolved into that of her mother.

"You'll always be one of us, Nico."