Categories > Original > Drama > Human Waste


by Eliador 0 reviews

Three months after Lila’s and Doakes' deaths Dexter is on the move again. While he watches from the shadows, he’s being watched too. When Dexter falls in a deadly trap will he find a way to sta...

Category: Drama - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2008-07-01 - Updated: 2008-07-08 - 615 words


It is said that the mind has a special way of treating addiction. If a small quantity is enough and the level of satisfaction it produces is high at first, as one keeps on experimenting, playing, the need for more and more grows; till humanity's essence itself ceases to truly exist.

Often killers are said to be compulsive addicts. They act by instinct, devoid of feeling. They're mere creatures craving for fulfilment.


He was a cruel rapist. Once he had chosen his prey, he would loom about till the opportunity to overtake her presented itself - like it always did. He entered his victims' house uninvited in the small hours of the night, finding them asleep. Soon they were tightly bound. And then he proceeded with that one form of torture that could damage a woman's spirit beyond all that was humanly endurable.

He wore a condom, he wore gloves. He even shaved his body. He always covered his hair.

He tied them down, preventing them from scratching him.

He was clever and for at least fourteen times he had committed his crime of choice without leaving any physical evidence behind. Not one of his victims had been able to come up with a usable description - despite the fact that he had never covered his face. He didn't have to. What were the chances of them ever seeing him?

He enjoyed himself immensely.


All went well until that night, the night when he attacked Amy Dark. Unseen to him as he posed himself over the woman, there was a small mirror half covered by a blanket.

In the full moon, with the little light provided by the street lights entering the window, Amy was able to see his hideous face distorted in the heat of his passion. In those long minutes, Amy had been only half conscious. Still, while she felt him holding her tight, breathing repulsively against her neck, Amy marked his features vividly in her mind. She stared and stared in awe trying to remember every little detail.

And as the pain and the spiritual suffering became too hard to bear, she finally closed her eyes and let herself grow faint, slipping in a world of darkness she couldn't really tell if she had imagined or not. And then there was one last groan before he collapsed over her and went still.

Soon after he got up and took everything with him, it seemed...

He had committed a fatal mistake - he had left Amy one last parting gift: the memory of his dreadful face.


Three years ago Timothy Pierce had been taken into custody, accused of having raped Amy Dark. The detectives had interrogated him restlessly for many hours.

Without any physical evidence to support Amy Dark's claim, or any other victim of the vicious rapist able to provide a truthful description; with nothing tying him to the victims and with a strong alibi, Timothy Pierce walked free.

Whether Timothy Pierce was guilty or not, no such M.O. had been used again. The police left the case opened, because Timothy or whoever the perpetrator might be might slip and fall into old habits.

For all that knew him, Timothy Pierce, in his early 30's, was a nice and gentle young man, with much to offer to Miami's society. He didn't mistreat anyone, he helped his fellow citizens.

Meanwhile, unseen to everyone around him, Timothy Pierce's violence escalated, reaching a new cycle. One of torture, murder, butchering and disposal of body parts in the depths of the Everglades. He had learned his lesson: now there would be no one left that could identify him.

To be Continued...
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