Categories > Original > Drama > Human Waste
Mask of Humanity
He wanted to reinvent himself somewhat. Killing Lila hadn't been hard, it had come naturally, but Doakes' death had struck a cord within him and set it vibrating in a different frequency.
Almost three months.
Almost three months since I killed Lila. Since Doakes' death.
I'm finally beginning to breathe in...freedom.
--
Another hot day in Miami. Even now, as the sun was setting, Dexter was feeling his soaked shirt clinging uncomfortably to his torso.
He had left his office a while ago. After running some errands, his steps led him to Camilla. A couple of days ago, Dexter had asked her to try and find a really juicy case-file, one of those files that inevitably set his blood on fire - not that he would ever let Camilla know about that particular detail. For her, as for his sister and some others, Dexter was a clever scholar of the human nature. His power of deduction and inspired theories were highly taken into consideration - and that was all.
He was a clever technician; a clever investigator. Why would someone have to know about the morbidity behind it all? Why would anyone have to know that, behind his mask of humanity, there was a killer constantly looking for a new prey, choosing his hunt through paperwork as one might choose some clothing item from a sales' catalogue.
My private catalogue.
It would be too cruel and cold-hearted to refer to Camilla as my sponsor, but she is vital - no denying that.
He should probably have stopped for doughnuts before coming, but he was in a bit of a hurry, having to squeeze that visit between work and visiting Rita and the kids.
He grabbed the file he had dropped on the passenger's seat and, composing his face and setting in place his best winning smile, he stepped out of the car.
Some seconds passed, and soon he was walking down a familiar corridor. His smile broadened when he saw the top of the familiar round head peeping over the counter.
Dexter approached slowly, taking his time studying the older woman.
"Hello! You look absolutely lovely this afternoon."
"Dexter! If you keep on lying like that, God will surely deny your entry in Heaven, you know."
Dexter chuckled before winking at the woman.
"That's why I never lie."
"You should visit more often - you brighten the days of this old lady. I think I can easily guess what brings you here - empty-handed I see."
Dexter settled the case-file he had been holding over the counter.
"I am sorry. I thought of stopping and buying you a treat, but I wanted to see you so badly. Forgive me?"
"Sure, sure. You're as charming, if not even more charming than he was."
"Harry?"
"Yeah, your father was a true gentleman."
Dexter chuckled.
"Now you're going over the top. He might have been a gentleman, but I'm just a clueless guy - a lab rat."
Camilla held his gaze for some seconds and then scanned him teasingly.
"I don't think I know too many clueless lab rats that look like this. You're far too modest."
"Now you're making me blush. Quite unfair if you ask me. That's my job here."
Camilla winked.
"Relax, you do it very well. If I weren't married... Well, anyway, I don't think you've come here just to flirt with me."
"Camilla, you know you're the queen of my heart, but I must confess..."
Camilla's eyes shone brightly as she giggled. She dropped a thin case-file over the counter.
"Well, as you requested, I have something here for you. The question is: what will I gain in exchange?"
"You do know how to melt the toughest man".
"Flattery will get you everything you want." Camilla paused and watched Dexter opening the case-file and taking a look at the first page. "I think you're going to love that. No conviction. For a while the District Attorney directed his efforts towards breaking this one suspect. If you ask me, he seemed like a really nice young man - much as yourself, Dexter. But one never really knows."
Lovely.
Camilla smiled warmly. "I do know about you, dear Dexter - you wouldn't harm a fly."
Sweet clueless Camilla.
Dexter winked. "Don't take me for a saint, I'm quite daring."
Camilla chuckled. "Sure you are." Finally she picked up the case-file on the counter.
"So? What did you think about the last one?"
"Hmm, to be honest, I thought it was a good investigation's work. Nothing interesting about it, though. It all seems pretty clear."
"Ah. You didn't form one of your theories, then?"
Dexter shrugged.
"Sorry, no." Dexter tapped his fingers on the counter. Will it be too impolite if I leave right now? I've got to hurry in any case...She understands. Dexter smiled"I'm really sorry Camilla, but now I really have to go..."
"Yeah, I had better get back to work too. Stop by again soon and with a little more time!"
Dexter saluted.
"Sure thing. I'll be sure to bring you a treat too!"
Once he was out of the building, his face lost all cheerfulness, and his smile was replaced by an empty gaze.
I hope this proves more interesting a reading than the last one.
Dexter started the car, his gaze unfocused for a little while.
Where to? You know where. Dexter shrugged.
He couldn't explain why he felt driven to that site so often as of late. What morbid sensation could it be? Maybe because Doakes seemed to understand...somewhat...
It wasn't so much that he had lost control over his feelings, like a normal human being might - he had no feelings. He still felt the same urges, with renewed intensity, actually.
If I didn't know myself better I'd say I feel guilty. But how could I? I didn't ask Lila for any favour, and I didn't participate directly in the matter...it was beyond my control.
Don't let yourself be fooled, will you?! The cemetery is the quietest place one can find for reading.
If only things were that simple. I'm not a monster.
He had reached his destination without really having taken notice of the entire drive.
Funny. I barely remember leaving Camilla. I guess letting my mind wonder at times can't be that bad. I have to be careful why, when, and where, though...
Dexter rested his hands on the wheel for a short while and sighed, slowly releasing the air from his lungs. Thirty seconds went by before Dexter finally grabbed his cell phone and exited the vehicle.
He had parked as close as possible to Doakes' gravestone.
I wonder. Isn't it appropriate to say that you're probably rolling in your grave? I'm very sorry, I do - did - respect you, sergeant, but I have to make good use of my time and to cover my tracks.
I might as well pass as a sentimental fool - I can live with that. Hell, didn't I take cover under the pretence of being an addict? Which I actually am... But being labelled as a twisted killer? I'm not sure I can "live" with that one.
Dexter walked slowly toward a bench. Before he sat down, he dropped his bag on the floor. Once he was settled as comfortably as possible, with his dark shades protecting his eyes against the still strong rays of the almost setting sun, he opened the bag and held the new case-file.
Let this be the one.
I'm sick. I'm a sick, twisted being. I'm aware of that - but it feels so long since I last killed.
At that time of day there was no one in sight. Strangely, or perhaps not - Dexter was a compulsive planner - he had never met Laguerta or anyone else for that matter visiting that grave. Focusing on his reading, Dexter lost track of time; until he heard his name spoken by that familiar voice and almost jumped off his skin.
"Dexter?!"
In one swift movement Dexter managed to rise and turn to face the woman, letting the file drop inside his bag just as the woman reached him.
"Lieutenant Laguerta! I didn't expect to see you here!"
Dammit.
The woman raised her eyebrow.
"That's my line, Dexter. Do you come here often?"
Dexter kicked his bag discreetly so as to make sure not even a millimetre of the case-file cover was visible.
"I come here at times...I had a great deal of respect for Sergeant Doakes, despite what came to pass between us."
"I see... Funny, I didn't take you for the sentimental type, though..."
Dexter managed to smile while a heavy drop of sweat ran down his forehead.
There's something unsettling about her expression. Could she be...suspicious?
"I don't consider myself to be the sentimental type either, Lieutenant."
Dexter opened wide his eyes.
"I suppose it must be...shock?!" At that he looked into Maria Laguerta's eyes.
The woman smiled sadly.
"I understand you. I'm sorry if I sounded too inquisitive. I thought that you, like your sister, were convinced of his guilt."
Is this a test?
Dexter shrugged and grabbed his bag, placing the strap on his shoulder.
"We're all guilty of something. It doesn't necessarily make us evil. I don't consider myself qualified enough to decide on his guilt. The whole thing was quite a shock. What I do know is what little I've learnt through the years. Sergeant Doakes was a tough man, I know he disliked me, and he had his own personal reasons for it, I'm sure. But he didn't deserve to go down like this in any case..."
Laguerta turned her back on Dexter and faced her friend's gravestone.
"He was a good man."
Yeah, twist and sick enough, but still a good man. Aren't we all in someone's eyes?
Dexter could hear her sob.
"Well, I was just leaving." He hesitated long enough to be tasteful. "Goodbye, Lieutenant."
If it had been me, would I have someone crying over my grave? Debra, Rita?
Maria Laguerta didn't turn at once.
"Talk to you tomorrow, Dexter."
Dexter started walking away deliberately slowly.
I really wished I found this somewhat amusing. My nemesis is dead - his lips forever sealed. But I just don't...
"Dexter?"
He turned and faced the woman's sad expression.
"Thank you..."
"W...wel...come..."
It was with great relief that Dexter reached his car and started the engine.
No need to thank me...
We all wear masks that hide our deepest thoughts - especially from the ones we feel closer to. We either have the humanity to face our failures or we wear a mask of humanity. The end result is the same: all people crave for comfort.
There was still a lot to decide, a lot to plan. Some time would come to pass between his drive home and the next moment of fulfilment. Nevertheless, the moment would come and that was what mattered.
Thinking of it carefully, Dexter was - dare he think it? - amused at the whole scenario; as to how the afternoon had unfolded: these last moments had lacked the slightest amusement, but all in all...
Thank you, Lieutenant Laguerta.
Dexter still felt... confused hardly described it. More like confronted with immense possibilities. That might be a satisfactory explanation, but at least he was sure of one thing already.
This is the one. This is the next one.
He wanted to reinvent himself somewhat. Killing Lila hadn't been hard, it had come naturally, but Doakes' death had struck a cord within him and set it vibrating in a different frequency.
Almost three months.
Almost three months since I killed Lila. Since Doakes' death.
I'm finally beginning to breathe in...freedom.
--
Another hot day in Miami. Even now, as the sun was setting, Dexter was feeling his soaked shirt clinging uncomfortably to his torso.
He had left his office a while ago. After running some errands, his steps led him to Camilla. A couple of days ago, Dexter had asked her to try and find a really juicy case-file, one of those files that inevitably set his blood on fire - not that he would ever let Camilla know about that particular detail. For her, as for his sister and some others, Dexter was a clever scholar of the human nature. His power of deduction and inspired theories were highly taken into consideration - and that was all.
He was a clever technician; a clever investigator. Why would someone have to know about the morbidity behind it all? Why would anyone have to know that, behind his mask of humanity, there was a killer constantly looking for a new prey, choosing his hunt through paperwork as one might choose some clothing item from a sales' catalogue.
My private catalogue.
It would be too cruel and cold-hearted to refer to Camilla as my sponsor, but she is vital - no denying that.
He should probably have stopped for doughnuts before coming, but he was in a bit of a hurry, having to squeeze that visit between work and visiting Rita and the kids.
He grabbed the file he had dropped on the passenger's seat and, composing his face and setting in place his best winning smile, he stepped out of the car.
Some seconds passed, and soon he was walking down a familiar corridor. His smile broadened when he saw the top of the familiar round head peeping over the counter.
Dexter approached slowly, taking his time studying the older woman.
"Hello! You look absolutely lovely this afternoon."
"Dexter! If you keep on lying like that, God will surely deny your entry in Heaven, you know."
Dexter chuckled before winking at the woman.
"That's why I never lie."
"You should visit more often - you brighten the days of this old lady. I think I can easily guess what brings you here - empty-handed I see."
Dexter settled the case-file he had been holding over the counter.
"I am sorry. I thought of stopping and buying you a treat, but I wanted to see you so badly. Forgive me?"
"Sure, sure. You're as charming, if not even more charming than he was."
"Harry?"
"Yeah, your father was a true gentleman."
Dexter chuckled.
"Now you're going over the top. He might have been a gentleman, but I'm just a clueless guy - a lab rat."
Camilla held his gaze for some seconds and then scanned him teasingly.
"I don't think I know too many clueless lab rats that look like this. You're far too modest."
"Now you're making me blush. Quite unfair if you ask me. That's my job here."
Camilla winked.
"Relax, you do it very well. If I weren't married... Well, anyway, I don't think you've come here just to flirt with me."
"Camilla, you know you're the queen of my heart, but I must confess..."
Camilla's eyes shone brightly as she giggled. She dropped a thin case-file over the counter.
"Well, as you requested, I have something here for you. The question is: what will I gain in exchange?"
"You do know how to melt the toughest man".
"Flattery will get you everything you want." Camilla paused and watched Dexter opening the case-file and taking a look at the first page. "I think you're going to love that. No conviction. For a while the District Attorney directed his efforts towards breaking this one suspect. If you ask me, he seemed like a really nice young man - much as yourself, Dexter. But one never really knows."
Lovely.
Camilla smiled warmly. "I do know about you, dear Dexter - you wouldn't harm a fly."
Sweet clueless Camilla.
Dexter winked. "Don't take me for a saint, I'm quite daring."
Camilla chuckled. "Sure you are." Finally she picked up the case-file on the counter.
"So? What did you think about the last one?"
"Hmm, to be honest, I thought it was a good investigation's work. Nothing interesting about it, though. It all seems pretty clear."
"Ah. You didn't form one of your theories, then?"
Dexter shrugged.
"Sorry, no." Dexter tapped his fingers on the counter. Will it be too impolite if I leave right now? I've got to hurry in any case...She understands. Dexter smiled"I'm really sorry Camilla, but now I really have to go..."
"Yeah, I had better get back to work too. Stop by again soon and with a little more time!"
Dexter saluted.
"Sure thing. I'll be sure to bring you a treat too!"
Once he was out of the building, his face lost all cheerfulness, and his smile was replaced by an empty gaze.
I hope this proves more interesting a reading than the last one.
Dexter started the car, his gaze unfocused for a little while.
Where to? You know where. Dexter shrugged.
He couldn't explain why he felt driven to that site so often as of late. What morbid sensation could it be? Maybe because Doakes seemed to understand...somewhat...
It wasn't so much that he had lost control over his feelings, like a normal human being might - he had no feelings. He still felt the same urges, with renewed intensity, actually.
If I didn't know myself better I'd say I feel guilty. But how could I? I didn't ask Lila for any favour, and I didn't participate directly in the matter...it was beyond my control.
Don't let yourself be fooled, will you?! The cemetery is the quietest place one can find for reading.
If only things were that simple. I'm not a monster.
He had reached his destination without really having taken notice of the entire drive.
Funny. I barely remember leaving Camilla. I guess letting my mind wonder at times can't be that bad. I have to be careful why, when, and where, though...
Dexter rested his hands on the wheel for a short while and sighed, slowly releasing the air from his lungs. Thirty seconds went by before Dexter finally grabbed his cell phone and exited the vehicle.
He had parked as close as possible to Doakes' gravestone.
I wonder. Isn't it appropriate to say that you're probably rolling in your grave? I'm very sorry, I do - did - respect you, sergeant, but I have to make good use of my time and to cover my tracks.
I might as well pass as a sentimental fool - I can live with that. Hell, didn't I take cover under the pretence of being an addict? Which I actually am... But being labelled as a twisted killer? I'm not sure I can "live" with that one.
Dexter walked slowly toward a bench. Before he sat down, he dropped his bag on the floor. Once he was settled as comfortably as possible, with his dark shades protecting his eyes against the still strong rays of the almost setting sun, he opened the bag and held the new case-file.
Let this be the one.
I'm sick. I'm a sick, twisted being. I'm aware of that - but it feels so long since I last killed.
At that time of day there was no one in sight. Strangely, or perhaps not - Dexter was a compulsive planner - he had never met Laguerta or anyone else for that matter visiting that grave. Focusing on his reading, Dexter lost track of time; until he heard his name spoken by that familiar voice and almost jumped off his skin.
"Dexter?!"
In one swift movement Dexter managed to rise and turn to face the woman, letting the file drop inside his bag just as the woman reached him.
"Lieutenant Laguerta! I didn't expect to see you here!"
Dammit.
The woman raised her eyebrow.
"That's my line, Dexter. Do you come here often?"
Dexter kicked his bag discreetly so as to make sure not even a millimetre of the case-file cover was visible.
"I come here at times...I had a great deal of respect for Sergeant Doakes, despite what came to pass between us."
"I see... Funny, I didn't take you for the sentimental type, though..."
Dexter managed to smile while a heavy drop of sweat ran down his forehead.
There's something unsettling about her expression. Could she be...suspicious?
"I don't consider myself to be the sentimental type either, Lieutenant."
Dexter opened wide his eyes.
"I suppose it must be...shock?!" At that he looked into Maria Laguerta's eyes.
The woman smiled sadly.
"I understand you. I'm sorry if I sounded too inquisitive. I thought that you, like your sister, were convinced of his guilt."
Is this a test?
Dexter shrugged and grabbed his bag, placing the strap on his shoulder.
"We're all guilty of something. It doesn't necessarily make us evil. I don't consider myself qualified enough to decide on his guilt. The whole thing was quite a shock. What I do know is what little I've learnt through the years. Sergeant Doakes was a tough man, I know he disliked me, and he had his own personal reasons for it, I'm sure. But he didn't deserve to go down like this in any case..."
Laguerta turned her back on Dexter and faced her friend's gravestone.
"He was a good man."
Yeah, twist and sick enough, but still a good man. Aren't we all in someone's eyes?
Dexter could hear her sob.
"Well, I was just leaving." He hesitated long enough to be tasteful. "Goodbye, Lieutenant."
If it had been me, would I have someone crying over my grave? Debra, Rita?
Maria Laguerta didn't turn at once.
"Talk to you tomorrow, Dexter."
Dexter started walking away deliberately slowly.
I really wished I found this somewhat amusing. My nemesis is dead - his lips forever sealed. But I just don't...
"Dexter?"
He turned and faced the woman's sad expression.
"Thank you..."
"W...wel...come..."
It was with great relief that Dexter reached his car and started the engine.
No need to thank me...
We all wear masks that hide our deepest thoughts - especially from the ones we feel closer to. We either have the humanity to face our failures or we wear a mask of humanity. The end result is the same: all people crave for comfort.
There was still a lot to decide, a lot to plan. Some time would come to pass between his drive home and the next moment of fulfilment. Nevertheless, the moment would come and that was what mattered.
Thinking of it carefully, Dexter was - dare he think it? - amused at the whole scenario; as to how the afternoon had unfolded: these last moments had lacked the slightest amusement, but all in all...
Thank you, Lieutenant Laguerta.
Dexter still felt... confused hardly described it. More like confronted with immense possibilities. That might be a satisfactory explanation, but at least he was sure of one thing already.
This is the one. This is the next one.
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