It's 3:39, the town is sleeping, she rolls to her side and pulls the blanket up to her chin despite the warmth she feels. The nightmare is always the same. Rachel's darkened eyes and panting breath. Quinn shivers at the thought. She waits to see how long it will take before it- sholders drooping, figure slimming, Rachel's bones pressing, no they're buldging out of her skin, chin tilted, that smirk spreading along her face reaches out too wide, her skin is breaking, lips tearing at the edges as her eyes darken, so dark...

She's back, arms wrap around herself as she recognizes what's going on. It's hard for her to know what's real anymore. Quinn sighs into her pillow letting the trembles shake out. "Such scary nightmares," She tries to convince herself, the sound is muffled into the silk pillow case.

Not once did she tell Rachel about these night terrors, let alone anyone else for that matter. She handles things how they are. A dosage of Rozerem before bed, Haloperidol once a day and again if she hears those whispering words that aren't spoken, Abilify that just seems to add to the bill, and Zoloft twice a day to better manage the ongoing depression. The pretty pills keep her on a "normal" schedule while the sun is up and shining. They use that word a lot, normal. The doctors explain to her that these things happen and medication is the cure. If one dose doesn't do the trick they sign off on a new perscription and send her on her way.

Quinn reaches for the little green box on the window sill at her bedside, she slips a Newport between her lips and effortlessly lights the tip. The doctors tell her not to smoke but they don't realise cigarettes have become like fuel to her, without a half of a pack a day she would have been restrained within a sleeveless white jacket locked away by now. They don't listen, she doesn't agrue, she buys a carton after every appointment. Smoking is something Quinn can control and that gives her some peace. She moves her back onto the cool wall and lets the smoke rise out from her mouth and breathes it back in through her nose. The famliararity of it all soothes her every night she's awakened.

The phone buzzes, as it always does, at 4:12 am.

Rachel: You're the prettiest girl I've ever met.

and again at 4:14.

Rachel: I'll keep you.

Sometimes Quinn will call the number half-hoping it will answer. The Hi, you've reached Rachel Berry on the other end of the phone is like an old friend to her. She knows all trails of the messages will be gone before dawn. The visions go with the darkness, but the voices will stay.

"The sun will come out, tomorrow!"

Her cigarette is smashed into the nearby ashtray while her eyes scan across the room.

"Better you bottom dollar that tomorrow..."

Her hands press into the sides of her head blocking her ears. "Stop! Stop!" Quinn hears herself shout into the black room.

"There'll be sun!"

She snaps her eyes shut, trying to hide from what's to come next.

"Quinn?" The voice beckons for her.

"Please. No."

"Baby," There's no sound of foot steps but she feels the voice is closer now. Her fingernails start to scratch at the scars she's already left on her scalp. "You don't want to her me sing?"

She fights the urge to peer out through her lashes to find the girl this voice belongs to. Quinn knows that girl isn't here.It's here. "Please."

"Quinn, look at me, what's wrong?"

She can smell the tabacco burn to ash, trying to focus on that scent.

"I'm here, I'm here."

The voice is quiet now. Quinn can feel the need in it. This is a plea, it's begging her.

"I just want to stay with you..."

Whispers are so soft and gentle. Voices she can't recognize start to hum don't you want me to stay? Her chin tilts back, legs cross and hands steadily conformed to shape around her skull. "This is all just a big show for you isn't it?"

"Quinn, please..."

Her bottom lip is sucked into her mouth while she shakes her head back and forth.

"Fine."

The voice is low and spiteful, but it has moved. Quinn grips onto the edges of her mattress, eyes sealed shut. It shrieks as it always does. The blonde presses her cheek against the cool wall. Panic has finally sunken in, knees move up to her chest in defense although she knows it wont touch her now. The reality-nightmare leaves her bedroom with a great thud. The bed, along with everything else, jumps in response. It's over for tonight.

This is a routine for Quinn, just like everything her whole life, it is set and planned for her. There's never anything out of place. Voices remind her it's time for bed now. Despite the fear, the torture, the uncertainty and of course the effects this has on her, Quinn often feels a strange comfort within the monster. It's odd to those who don't experience it, but to her it's a stability. The nightmare always comes back- same time every night. The stolen voice brings her back to where her problems didn't seem so frightening. That's the trick though, Quinn is sure, to make her feel safe and at peace when her world is in mayhem. It wants her to give in. To let it thrive off of her. As long as she refuses, she knows it will always leave for the night.

It's 4:55 am, the bed is warm and she's cuddled up ready to catch a few more hours of sleep before starting a new day filled with the same events as the one before. She feels her phone vibrate with the alarm, but chooses to ignore it. Of course it's coming, she prepares for the voice that doesn't seem so twisted, a familar, sweet good-night whisper echoes in her mind...

"Always."