Quinn rolled out her sleeping bag on the floor as Mark watched her from the bed closest to the door. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Quinn snapped. "I'm unrolling a sleeping bag." Mark groaned and placed in his head in his hands. "Yes, but why?"
"Does being tired make you stupid as well as irritable? I'm going to sleep in it dumbass." Mark sighed. "Geez 'mare, what's wrong with you?" Quinn looked up at him and sat back on her knees. "What do you mean what's wrong with me?" she asked.
"Why don't you sleep on one of the beds?"
"Because I don't want to." Mark shook his head slowly and ran a hand through his hair. "Quinn…"
"What's with you and saying my name?" Mark raised an eyebrow and Quinn looked away. "Never mind," she muttered. Mark placed his hands on the bed in front of him. "Ok then…"
Quinn played with the zipper on her jacket and bit her lip, her eyes locked onto something that Mark guessed she wasn't really seeing. She had been really out of sorts since this morning and he had hoped that a good night's sleep would help, but she was being stubborn in deciding to sleep in her sleeping bag on the floor. "At least put the sleeping bag on the bed," he said. Quinn didn't move, not that he expected her to.
So he did something that he knew might possibly get him killed.
He slid off the edge of the bed and knelt in front of her. Mark reached a hand forward and slid a finger underneath one of the overlaps of the scarf around Quinn's face before tugging. The scarf instantly began to unwind and the last thing Mark saw before blackness was Quinn's burning eyes.
Everything was black, then spots of red and yellow and white light started to pop up in the darkness. Two figures stepped out from the abyss and Mark stumbled back, his eyes growing wide. The two clowns tilted their heads in unison and Mark started to shake. From behind the clowns stepped two more, and two more, and two more. Now there was eight clowns standing in a line staring at him, their colour ringed eyes boring into him.
Movement above the demons made Mark hesitantly look up. Hanging above the freaks was a girl garbed all in black, her white hair spiked, red eyes glowing with glee. The white lines that were her tattoos seemed to slither like miniature snakes across her bare arms and face. Large white wings beat once as she kept herself in the air. "Qu-Quinn," Mark stammered. "W-Why are you-" Quinn, or Nightmare as she would be called in this form, shook her head and pressed a finger to her smiling lips. "Don't pay attention to me, I believe you have bigger worries."
Looking down from her Mark realized that the clowns had not only tripled in number but had also surround him. Mark shakily stepped into the middle of the ring, trying to stay as far away from the white faced demons as possible. "Pl-Please Quinn – Nightmare! – please! Let me go!" he begged. "Please!" Quinn laughed, and the evil sound echoed in Mark's ears. A hand fell on Mark's shoulder and he whirled around to find himself face to face with a clown . He let out an ear piercing scream and then everything went black…
Quinn stared at Mark, who was on his back, eyes open, his breathing irregular. She ran a hand through her hair and smiled grimly. It hadn't been her fault, he had provoked her. She tossed her scarf aside and stood up, shaking her hands out. With a sigh she stepped over to the light switch and flicked it off. Walked back over to her sleeping bag she crawled inside and closed her eyes. "'night Mark," she mumbled, before drifting off into her own nightmares.
AN: Sorry Mark!