Some of them want to use you, some of them want to get used by you. Some of them want to abuse you, some of them want to be abused.

Dawn is approaching quickly. Too quickly. I'm not ready. As the first rays of sunlight start to graze the windowsill, I hastily retreat to the bathroom. I've had enough sunburn for now. I climb into the bathtub, curling my feet under me. I can only imagine how humorous this scene would be to an outsider. A pink haired seventeen year old tucked into a bathtub, clad in Cookie Monster boxers and clutching a K Bar like some would clutch a teddy bear. A riot, indeed. Now all I need is Serendipity to provide the laugh track. I growl quietly, wondering what the Malkavian has in store for me tonight. Maybe I'll be lucky and he'll be tormenting someone else. Him and his new friends. The Regent's warning flashes though my mind.

 It overpowered me at every turn. If you come in contact with it and are not ready for one of the most desperate fights of your unlife, run....The Nightmares are coming. They are real.

Been living a nightmare since 1953. I should be prepared for anything at this point. I scoff aloud at myself. Such a brave kid. It overpowered Pyotr...what do you think is going to happen to you? "What's going to happen to me is going to happen, regardless. Do your worst 'Dipity. I'll repay in kind." My voice echoes against the tile, sounding less fearless with each reverberation. My eyelids feel heavy, my muscles are slowly relaxing out of their battle-ready tension.
As I'm drifting off, I swear I hear a faint voice. Familiar, but not one of my regulars. "....Madelyn....be alright..." What? Who is...is that Testament? And I'm asleep.

Or not. I snap awake as if someone slapped me. Strange. No one has, yet. The house is quiet in an almost unsettling way. I reflexively tighten my hand around the hilt of my knife...but...it's not there. I bring my palm up to my nose and give a hearty sniff. It was there, I did have it. I smell...I don't have time to finish my thoughts before they're interrupted by a bewildering sound. Tinny bells, like a child's toy or an ice cream truck. My brow furrows as I decipher the tune. Pop, Goes The Weasel. Pop, goes the reality, more like. In the rational point in my mind I know this is just a dream. A nightmare. One of  'Dipity's little games. And yet, there's still that absurd part of me that fears the worst. The ridiculously cheerful ditty is cut off mid-note. I hear the front door creaking open, and approaching footsteps. The footsteps are heavy, a strange noise accompanying them. Like someone dragging something behind them. I quietly rise to my feet, reaching above my head to unanchor the shower curtain rod from the wall. Better than nothin' I stand in the tub, brandishing the rod in front of me. Whatever it is out there, I ain't coming out. You want me, come get me yourself. I lean against the wall almost casually as the lurching steps continue down the hallway. Heh. Pussy. I think derisively. I hear a door down the hall open. What kind of big bad is afraid of a....A bloodcurdling shriek of agony pierces the air. "Mongrel!"  I'm out of the tub, smashing through the door before rationality can stand a chance. Don't be stupid! He's not even here! You know it's not real! It's a trap, a lure! I snarl at my own thoughts, urging them to silence, replacing them with a chant of the Gangrel's name. The hallway is dark...unnaturally cold. Each step seems to take double the time before I reach Mongrel's bedroom. I kick open the door and reel back, choking on the reek of gore.

The walls, the furniture...spattered with blood and viscera. Sticky clots of it everywhere. I can smell the blood cooking on the ceiling light bulb. The sheets are sodden with vitae. And on the bed. On the bed....a scream tears from my throat.

A perfectly innocuous ceramic bowl. Condensation forms little droplets around the rim of the bowl. Inside is what looks like a generous helping of Neapolitan ice cream. Resting comfortably in the middle of the dessert, like a macabre cherry on a sundae...I scream again as I stare into the dead, empty yellow eyes. Mongrels blond hair is caked with blood and sticky melted ice cream. The stump of his neck leaks vitae onto the ice cream. What's a sundae without strawberry syrup?! I scream, you scream...we all scream. "NO!" I snap out of the impending hysteria, swinging around to identify whatever beast did this. Lurking in the doorway is a unsettling figure. Swathed in a yellow, polka dotted suit, chalk white face grinning at me from under a shock of red hair. My sight falls to the four, heavily muscled arms that dangle to the floor. My eyes bulge in stupefaction.
The monstrosity speaks: "Hey der, wittle girl. I made cha a snack!" With a battle cry, I run at the creature, brandishing the flimsy aluminum rod like a javelin. The almost hilariousness of my weapon is lost on me as I attack. One of the creature's large fists punch the rod from my hands. "Couldn't eat da big man or the crying man. Imma eat the wittle girl!" Little girl...I hiss in anger. The creature seems to flex, his frame swelling like a body builder on steroids.
I sneer, "...that's all?" It's torso seems to erupt as a mass of skeletal tentacles burst forth. It's jaw distends, mouth unhinging like a overgrown snake. I'm shaken a bit, but square my shoulders lifting my chin to stare down the beast that dwarfs me. "Try and eat me motherfucker. I hope I give you the shits." It responds with a throaty, demonic growl, lunging at me with it's tentacles, each ending in a snapping mouth full of fangs.

The towering beast is quicker than it looks. I throw a protective arm over my face as it viciously slashes at me. My skin rips open, fresh blood patters to the carpet. I grit my teeth against the pain and attempt to dart around the beast, hoping to attack it from behind. It's too big, too clever. I sense it rearing forward to wrap me in a deadly embrace and put on an extra burst of speed. I reach the other side of the room in a flash, hefting a nightstand over my head. As it rushes at me, I heave the nightstand at it. The flimsy wood shatters against it's body. Unhindered, the beast tackles me to the ground. I feel several ribs splinter, puncturing through my airless lungs. I cough through a mouthful of blood. In desperation, I thrust myself into the creature's mind. Mind? Does this thing even have a mind?! Like flicking down an emergency switch, I try to deaden it's emotions, perhaps it will submit enough for me to get the fuck away! I learn how useless the attempt is as the creature rips into me with it's tentacles. My shredded flesh sings in agony as I try to struggle out from under the titanic beast. I can feel my limbs turning traitor with weakness as the bony extremities bite and gnash. My blood pools under me, all the strength leaving me as I watch the beast raise his fists to snuff the last bit of life from me. I...tried..

A slow, purposeful clap starts up from behind the creature, halting it's actions. "Oh good...an...audience.." I sputter out.
The familiar voice coos to the beast. "Tee hee, well done Squeaks, but give me just a moment." Serendipity comes into view, looming over me with his trademark grin. "Oh, don't mind me Maddie. Just need a few things from you!" 
I cough out a snarky response. "Not surprised. ....needy...bastard." 
Several tendrils of intangible inky lightning streak towards me. 'Dipity's voice resounds in my mind, inquiring: "What is the plan in place to destroy the Nightmare realm?" 
I snicker, mockingly in my thoughts. "I'm not aware of a plan. No one informs me of plans. They say attack...and I'll attack." Especially if you're the target...
"Oh, so -simple- Madelyn." I growl under my breath. "Who in the Camarilla knows the most about the dreamworld?" 
My thoughts mock him again, briefly settling on Testament. The Tremere seems to have more control...more understanding of this nightmare realm. "You know, Testament. Your...lost...friend?" I force my lips into a sneer, knowing it very well could be my last. 
Serendipity pauses, staring blankly at me for a full minute before..."Enjoy your meal, Squeaks." 
I use my remaining energy to shout at him. "You wonder why you're losing your friends Dip!?" This! 
Bloody tears stream down his face as he replies manically: "Not at all!" The monstrous beast Squeaks. It's name is Squeaks! lowers its face, it's jaw stretching to an impossible size. It's hot, sickly breath washes over me as it's mouth envelops my head. I gag as I'm surrounded in it's putrid maw. I feel razor sharp fangs pierce my neck in a gentle semi circle, toying with me before biting down with a sharp....

The nightmare fades. Transforms. Morphs.

I'm in a church yard, staring at the starry sky. The moon hangs low, fat and bright in my view. I feel a cooling breeze wrap around my body, a low mist curling around my ankles. Glancing around in vague curiosity as stone grave markers begin to raise from the dirt, I feel my attention pulled in another direction. My hair twists in the breeze. Upon a hill, I watch as a stairwell breaks through. A mausoleum is birthed from the ground, a small brick wall surrounding it. Around the yard, a iron fence grows like hedges. The tips of the fence are topped with thick, sharp spikes. There's no gate. No entrance, no exit. More grave stones pop up from the earth. The names on them are unrecognizable but I know...I know...Those who have died. Died in the realm. The nightmare realm. The once empty church yard seems alive with it's new additions. As if it's all been waiting. Waiting in the ground to rise up and claim more lives. I hear the sound of children playing, their voices carried on the wind. An ethereal chill follows. There's no looming danger. No tangible threat. And still...my body dissolves into an uncontrollable trembling. An ascending roar of thunder rolls along the yard. There's no storm. That's not thunder...

I awaken with a start, subsequently bashing my head on the underside of the faucet. Gingerly touching my scalp, I feel precious vitae seeping from the point of impact. Am I? I am. I'm awake. The fresh liquid mingling with the blood already drying my hair into clotted knots. "What...the..." I scream in pain as a shudder wracks through my body. The scream morphs to a moan of panic as I set eyes on the damage. The porcelain of the bathtub is caked with my own blood. Streaks of it are drying on the walls of the tub. My legs are bent at unnatural angles, both shattered tibia tearing through the flesh in several spots. I stare, horrified and mesmerized by the fluorescent overhead light glancing off the stark white bones. I attempt to shift myself, grimacing at the pool of vitae sloshing in the bottom of the tub. The broken bones grate together in a nauseatingly painful way. Head spinning, I lean against the blood sticky wall. I still hear the faint sound of children playing, smell the loamy earth of the graveyard. With a shaking hand, I reach over the lip of the bathtub. Grasping my cell phone, I flip it open, thumb hovering over Mongrel's number. Between my misgivings from turning to him for help again, and the potential conniption fit he would have seeing me in this state, I snap the phone closed. Dropping it back onto the tile, I re-attempt to exit the bathtub. Weak from blood loss, I fall backwards, grabbing the shower curtain for leverage and pulling it off the rings in the process. Landing with a piercing shout, I watch the poppies of her blood bloom on the fabric as it settles into the tub. My eyes are threatening to slip shut again. Have to stay...awake. I think to myself, desperate not to fall into another nightmare. Leaning forward a bit, I poke at the sharp edge of the exposed bone. S'not gonna heal if I leave it like this. Pressing my hand against the shattered limb, I pull the skin back enough to wriggle the jagged edges of bone back against each other. A few skeletal chips break off, falling into the tub with a tiny splash. Blood flows from the lacerated skin, adding to the growing pool I'm seated in. I pause, catching my metaphorical breath. Suck it up, Mad. Can't very well feed until you sort yourself out. I catch myself wishing for some sort of comforting presence. If anything, just someone...someone...to offer alleviation against these physical...and mental, don't forget that...ailments. I glance at my phone again. Growling in anger, anger at myself, I grasp the second leg, forcing the bones into place with a hint of prenatural strength. The re-setting is effective, too much so. In my agitation I send another fissure down the center of the bone. My nerves feel aflame with agony. With a whimper, I sink low into the tub, pressing my cheek against the cold porcelain. I pant quietly, the pain keeping me awake as I concentrate on using my depleted vitae to knit the shattered bones, heal the tattered flesh. Serendipty. You'll pay. And if you didn't do this, I'll find out who did. They'll pay. My pain, everyones pain...in thrice.