Categories > Original > Drama > Human Waste
A Killer's Instinct
Two weeks later
There's an old saying: keep your friends close and your enemies even closer: don't get caught.
I've been following him for a while now. It's of extreme importance to separate the guilty from the innocent; there can be no hesitations on the last moment. Everything has to be carefully studied and planned.
Presently Dexter was focusing his full attention on the apparent model citizen: Timothy Pierce. He had had a run with the law three years ago. There had been a raping spree and he had been one of the people to be interrogated about it. There had been no evidence to tie him to the crimes, apart from the testimony of a traumatised eye witness.
Dexter had studied his file. Verdict: Guilty.
So far it seems he has stopped, but can a rapist truly stop? Is there something I'm not seeing? In any case I can't let him walk free. He has to pay for what he did to all those women, especially Amy Dark, whose word wasn't given any credit. Timothy has to die.
--
Dexter had just finished having lunch. On his way back to his office he stopped on the parking lot to pick up his bag. He had been out most of the morning trying to collect blood samples at a crime scene, and had simply parked before going to grab a bite. He hadn't collected any samples after all - the feds had arrived and taken care of business.
It's all right. As fascinating as blood and blood analysis might be the particular case didn't seem all that interesting.
He had his own fascinating case to investigate.
An uneventful day - an uneventful week: playing hide and seek has never been all that entertaining, and as days go by I begin feeling...
Restless.
Lost in his thoughts Dexter entered the building and walked to the elevator. He entered and pressed the button to his floor.
"Hold it!!"
Dexter outstretched his hand and held the door with a small sigh.
Hope it isn't someone I'm supposed to be friendly with. A side effect from restlessness - boredom.
"Dexter!!"
Deb.
"Hey."
"So, I heard they stepped all over your toes."
Dexter raised his eyebrow inquisitively.
"Oh? Well I'm kind of relieved. This would probably turn into one of those cases that drag for months and make me testify the same thing half a dozen times before some judge is done with it."
Debra stared at her brother for some seconds in silence.
"You're awfully silent today."
Dexter smiled teasingly. "As opposed to my usual talkative self?"
Debra grinned.
"Yeah. Is something bothering you?"
Just some guy that I'm chasing. I really want to kill him but I have yet to find the best spot to corner him. On the good side I've managed to track him down and follow him all over town - all in all: he's mine.
"Nothing." Dexter sighed and focused on an invisible spot on the opposite wall. "Just tired, I guess."
Debra smiled devilishly. "Is Rita keeping you that busy?"
"Not really...I've been busy this week...catching up on some...reading..."
"Are you for real?"
Dexter smiled innocently before looking into his sister's eyes.
"I could choose something worse, no?"
Killing and dismemberment?
At that moment the elevator stopped.
"Later, geek!"
"Later!"
Was it too poor an excuse?
Do I come out as too foreign an entity in this world that seems to revolve around the concept of equality?
I look at them, all of them, and all I see are bees - not in a truly contemptuous way; it's not like I consider myself better or worse that the average human being, but they seem so focused in looking, sounding and feeling all the same. Too often does the collective thought suppress the individual one - these are the labour workers whose sole purpose is to show their devotion - feeding and nurturing the hive's queen.
"Dexter!"
Angel.
"Hello, buddy."
I once told Angel that if I were to name the one person I would like to be like it would be him.
"Hello, Angel."
"I heard that you lost the case to the feds, carpet pulling and all."
"You win some, you lose some. That's how it is."
Angel patted Dexter in the back.
"So true; so very true."
Two more steps and I'll be in the silence of my office.
"Later, Angel!"
"Hey, Dexter, don't forget about tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Bowling, buddy, bowling."
"Oh...right."
Dammit. I had completely forgotten. I had made quite different plans for tonight. Well, one night won't make that much of a difference.
Once inside, Dexter shut the door, closed the blinds and started his laptop. He organised his work table, set the clocks running, collected the samples, put the machinery working. And then, with a heavy sigh he sat down.
--
The day worn off slowly; it had been pleasant. No one had really bothered him, and for once, Masuka hadn't burst into his office with some new sex revelation.
Time to get ready for another empty night.
Universe: 1 - Dexter: 0.
The following night
Today of all days Dexter had experienced the bliss that accompanies the feeling of control: being in control of oneself, having one purpose. The head feels clear; the mind is set and unshaken.
There's no happiness, no sadness - just existence and self-preservation.
This was more than the mere taste of freedom. This was exhilarating.
On the hunt again - with no worries, just the hunter and the prey, just focusing on the chase. This is life.
Turning off his computer Dexter indulged in a happy thought all his - he smiled.
This time bodies won't start pilling up like before. I won't be caught - no, better yet, I won't come to dread being caught.
He finally left the office.
I haven't been all that active lately. My day life is catching up with me, but not tonight - tonight's all mine.
Finally.
It has been tedious - using all subtlety, being as careful as possible, taking no chances - so that no one can form some sort of bridge between me and my old alter-ego.
Dexter was still smiling as he waved his colleagues farewell; still smiling when he reached the parking lot and entered his van. He turned on the radio - there was a catchy song playing and he couldn't help but start humming its tunes.
The Bay Harbor Butcher is dead and buried, dealt with.
It was exactly at that moment that the cell phone decided to ring.
Deb.
My sister has a really awkward sense of timing.
"Yes, Deb?"
"Where the fuck are you? You were supposed to come pick me up."
"Ahh...sorry."
"Jerk."
Dexter remained in silence, trying to connect whatever connection had gone off line in his brain - why was he supposed to have picked her up?
"You forgot, didn't you?"
"No...of course not..."
"So?"
God dammit! Dinner at my place with Deb! How could I forget?! Scratch all my previous remarks.
Universe: 2 - Dexter: 0.
Not tonight, not again...not another night.
"So?"
Stale.
"Can't we meet there instead?"
"Why?"
"Emergency... Last minute shopping."
Lies keep coming out of my mouth.
"Shopping?"
Dexter sighed.
"Yeah. My fridge is empty. Can't make dinner without food."
"Oh. Okay, I'll meet you at your place at around 8pm, then."
"Dinner will be awaiting you...as will I."
"Wow..."
Dexter ended the call without further explanations.
I'm disappointed. My plans are ruined for the second night in a row - all that's left is Rita wanting me to stay with her tomorrow night.
Of course tasting freedom gave him great satisfaction, but that only made it more peremptory for him to finish the business at hand.
I need to...kill....
Right now I have to focus on following that bastard in the most discrete manner possible.
He had been very careful: sure the Bay Harbor Butcher was dead and buried...dealt with...but who could guarantee the FBI wasn't keeping a close watchful eye on the police department and its entire staff? Just in case.
Presently he simply had to focus on the matter at hand. In half an hour he would have to go home and start dinner.
The chance is gone; Deb will be waiting and if dinner isn't ready by the time she arrives, she'll insist until I come up with a proper excuse for my oddity.
Dexter drove away from Timothy's vehicle, making a right turn after the lights went green.
Enjoy your last day on earth, Timothy Pierce.
--
Debra arrived at the appointed time. Dinner was almost ready. They both sat while waiting, holding the cold beer bottles Dexter had just taken out of the fridge.
"How was your day, Deb?"
Debra grinned.
"Better than yours, I'd said. You look hellish."
Dexter smirked devilishly.
"Ever the charming lady."
"I wasn't aware I was supposed to be charming, Dexter. You're my brother, not my knight in shining armour."
"Ah! Busted!"
The two siblings took a sip of beer simultaneously.
"Seriously, is something the matter? I feel you...disconnected as of late..."
She is clever, my sister.
It has been harder than usual to connect. There's so much going on at the police station.
There was Laguerta back at the cemetery - no real harm done, but that was close. She won't stop examining and investigating.
Everyone is somewhat looking over their shoulder. And there are two reasons for that: one is the fact that "we" harboured a killer in our ranks for so long - fortunately he was found - Dexter grimaced inwardly at the thought - and the second is that everyone feels observed. Is the FBI really gone? Will they ever go away?
Not that Dexter was that concerned. He always knew how to watch his back - from his first killing, in fact. And, as he reasoned, if he wasn't caught, then no one was chasing him hard enough. It was that thought that made him want to kill again once Lila was taken care off.
"Well, so much is going on..."
"Yeah, I know. Lila, Butcher Doakes, Laguerta and her frenzied antics..."
It is at times like this that Debra truly freaks me out. What's up with this choice of adjectives and the quick smart-ass talk?
"I find it odd. The effect this had on you. You're also glad Lila's gone, right? After all she did? That's not nostalgia, is it? The sex wasn't that great, was it?"
Dexter raised an eyebrow and shrugged.
"Not nostalgia."
"Hmm...I see...what about..."
The look in Dexter's face and the hint of a "Debra!" made her stop. Debra giggled.
"That look: priceless. I know you love Rita and Lila was just a spur of the moment, no worries. You're a man and she's a total slut."
Lila. I don't think I had truly thought of her in a while. I think of Doakes and her memories come to mind - like a spider web that I quickly brush away.
Why would I think of her? I have no regrets: Lila had to die. She wasn't a trophy. If I had such human feelings I would say I killed her for revenge, but as it is it was simply a matter of self-preservation. She was dangerous, too dangerous.
"Usually you don't connect with that sort of thing. You just keep on being same old Dexter no matter what..."
Dexter smiled sadly.
"Yeah, well...I don't know how to explain it myself."
Debra patted her brother's shoulder sympathetically.
"You're only human, like the rest of us."
Am I? Human like the rest of mankind? What is this? This bittersweet sensation...
Dexter simply shrugged.
"I guess." Dexter looked away. "Dinner is ready."
"Good! I'm starving, all this melodramatic talk made my stomach really start to rumble."
--
Debra had stayed long enough to help Dexter clean and wash the dishes. When she left, Dexter started feeling restless for no apparent reason.
Something's wrong. Was it something I said? Something I did? Am I missing some detail? It was an uneventful day.
Call it a gut feeling. An instinctive reaction. What's wrong?
Dexter settled down and turned off the lights.
I'd better rest. Tomorrow I won't be able to afford such luxury as having a good night's sleep: I have unfinished business.
As Dexter took off his clothes he still had the same vague feeling - something he couldn't exactly pinpoint. Finally he dismissed these thoughts and fell asleep.
Who is this naughty person? Evil deeds never go unpunished.
Two weeks later
There's an old saying: keep your friends close and your enemies even closer: don't get caught.
I've been following him for a while now. It's of extreme importance to separate the guilty from the innocent; there can be no hesitations on the last moment. Everything has to be carefully studied and planned.
Presently Dexter was focusing his full attention on the apparent model citizen: Timothy Pierce. He had had a run with the law three years ago. There had been a raping spree and he had been one of the people to be interrogated about it. There had been no evidence to tie him to the crimes, apart from the testimony of a traumatised eye witness.
Dexter had studied his file. Verdict: Guilty.
So far it seems he has stopped, but can a rapist truly stop? Is there something I'm not seeing? In any case I can't let him walk free. He has to pay for what he did to all those women, especially Amy Dark, whose word wasn't given any credit. Timothy has to die.
--
Dexter had just finished having lunch. On his way back to his office he stopped on the parking lot to pick up his bag. He had been out most of the morning trying to collect blood samples at a crime scene, and had simply parked before going to grab a bite. He hadn't collected any samples after all - the feds had arrived and taken care of business.
It's all right. As fascinating as blood and blood analysis might be the particular case didn't seem all that interesting.
He had his own fascinating case to investigate.
An uneventful day - an uneventful week: playing hide and seek has never been all that entertaining, and as days go by I begin feeling...
Restless.
Lost in his thoughts Dexter entered the building and walked to the elevator. He entered and pressed the button to his floor.
"Hold it!!"
Dexter outstretched his hand and held the door with a small sigh.
Hope it isn't someone I'm supposed to be friendly with. A side effect from restlessness - boredom.
"Dexter!!"
Deb.
"Hey."
"So, I heard they stepped all over your toes."
Dexter raised his eyebrow inquisitively.
"Oh? Well I'm kind of relieved. This would probably turn into one of those cases that drag for months and make me testify the same thing half a dozen times before some judge is done with it."
Debra stared at her brother for some seconds in silence.
"You're awfully silent today."
Dexter smiled teasingly. "As opposed to my usual talkative self?"
Debra grinned.
"Yeah. Is something bothering you?"
Just some guy that I'm chasing. I really want to kill him but I have yet to find the best spot to corner him. On the good side I've managed to track him down and follow him all over town - all in all: he's mine.
"Nothing." Dexter sighed and focused on an invisible spot on the opposite wall. "Just tired, I guess."
Debra smiled devilishly. "Is Rita keeping you that busy?"
"Not really...I've been busy this week...catching up on some...reading..."
"Are you for real?"
Dexter smiled innocently before looking into his sister's eyes.
"I could choose something worse, no?"
Killing and dismemberment?
At that moment the elevator stopped.
"Later, geek!"
"Later!"
Was it too poor an excuse?
Do I come out as too foreign an entity in this world that seems to revolve around the concept of equality?
I look at them, all of them, and all I see are bees - not in a truly contemptuous way; it's not like I consider myself better or worse that the average human being, but they seem so focused in looking, sounding and feeling all the same. Too often does the collective thought suppress the individual one - these are the labour workers whose sole purpose is to show their devotion - feeding and nurturing the hive's queen.
"Dexter!"
Angel.
"Hello, buddy."
I once told Angel that if I were to name the one person I would like to be like it would be him.
"Hello, Angel."
"I heard that you lost the case to the feds, carpet pulling and all."
"You win some, you lose some. That's how it is."
Angel patted Dexter in the back.
"So true; so very true."
Two more steps and I'll be in the silence of my office.
"Later, Angel!"
"Hey, Dexter, don't forget about tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Bowling, buddy, bowling."
"Oh...right."
Dammit. I had completely forgotten. I had made quite different plans for tonight. Well, one night won't make that much of a difference.
Once inside, Dexter shut the door, closed the blinds and started his laptop. He organised his work table, set the clocks running, collected the samples, put the machinery working. And then, with a heavy sigh he sat down.
--
The day worn off slowly; it had been pleasant. No one had really bothered him, and for once, Masuka hadn't burst into his office with some new sex revelation.
Time to get ready for another empty night.
Universe: 1 - Dexter: 0.
The following night
Today of all days Dexter had experienced the bliss that accompanies the feeling of control: being in control of oneself, having one purpose. The head feels clear; the mind is set and unshaken.
There's no happiness, no sadness - just existence and self-preservation.
This was more than the mere taste of freedom. This was exhilarating.
On the hunt again - with no worries, just the hunter and the prey, just focusing on the chase. This is life.
Turning off his computer Dexter indulged in a happy thought all his - he smiled.
This time bodies won't start pilling up like before. I won't be caught - no, better yet, I won't come to dread being caught.
He finally left the office.
I haven't been all that active lately. My day life is catching up with me, but not tonight - tonight's all mine.
Finally.
It has been tedious - using all subtlety, being as careful as possible, taking no chances - so that no one can form some sort of bridge between me and my old alter-ego.
Dexter was still smiling as he waved his colleagues farewell; still smiling when he reached the parking lot and entered his van. He turned on the radio - there was a catchy song playing and he couldn't help but start humming its tunes.
The Bay Harbor Butcher is dead and buried, dealt with.
It was exactly at that moment that the cell phone decided to ring.
Deb.
My sister has a really awkward sense of timing.
"Yes, Deb?"
"Where the fuck are you? You were supposed to come pick me up."
"Ahh...sorry."
"Jerk."
Dexter remained in silence, trying to connect whatever connection had gone off line in his brain - why was he supposed to have picked her up?
"You forgot, didn't you?"
"No...of course not..."
"So?"
God dammit! Dinner at my place with Deb! How could I forget?! Scratch all my previous remarks.
Universe: 2 - Dexter: 0.
Not tonight, not again...not another night.
"So?"
Stale.
"Can't we meet there instead?"
"Why?"
"Emergency... Last minute shopping."
Lies keep coming out of my mouth.
"Shopping?"
Dexter sighed.
"Yeah. My fridge is empty. Can't make dinner without food."
"Oh. Okay, I'll meet you at your place at around 8pm, then."
"Dinner will be awaiting you...as will I."
"Wow..."
Dexter ended the call without further explanations.
I'm disappointed. My plans are ruined for the second night in a row - all that's left is Rita wanting me to stay with her tomorrow night.
Of course tasting freedom gave him great satisfaction, but that only made it more peremptory for him to finish the business at hand.
I need to...kill....
Right now I have to focus on following that bastard in the most discrete manner possible.
He had been very careful: sure the Bay Harbor Butcher was dead and buried...dealt with...but who could guarantee the FBI wasn't keeping a close watchful eye on the police department and its entire staff? Just in case.
Presently he simply had to focus on the matter at hand. In half an hour he would have to go home and start dinner.
The chance is gone; Deb will be waiting and if dinner isn't ready by the time she arrives, she'll insist until I come up with a proper excuse for my oddity.
Dexter drove away from Timothy's vehicle, making a right turn after the lights went green.
Enjoy your last day on earth, Timothy Pierce.
--
Debra arrived at the appointed time. Dinner was almost ready. They both sat while waiting, holding the cold beer bottles Dexter had just taken out of the fridge.
"How was your day, Deb?"
Debra grinned.
"Better than yours, I'd said. You look hellish."
Dexter smirked devilishly.
"Ever the charming lady."
"I wasn't aware I was supposed to be charming, Dexter. You're my brother, not my knight in shining armour."
"Ah! Busted!"
The two siblings took a sip of beer simultaneously.
"Seriously, is something the matter? I feel you...disconnected as of late..."
She is clever, my sister.
It has been harder than usual to connect. There's so much going on at the police station.
There was Laguerta back at the cemetery - no real harm done, but that was close. She won't stop examining and investigating.
Everyone is somewhat looking over their shoulder. And there are two reasons for that: one is the fact that "we" harboured a killer in our ranks for so long - fortunately he was found - Dexter grimaced inwardly at the thought - and the second is that everyone feels observed. Is the FBI really gone? Will they ever go away?
Not that Dexter was that concerned. He always knew how to watch his back - from his first killing, in fact. And, as he reasoned, if he wasn't caught, then no one was chasing him hard enough. It was that thought that made him want to kill again once Lila was taken care off.
"Well, so much is going on..."
"Yeah, I know. Lila, Butcher Doakes, Laguerta and her frenzied antics..."
It is at times like this that Debra truly freaks me out. What's up with this choice of adjectives and the quick smart-ass talk?
"I find it odd. The effect this had on you. You're also glad Lila's gone, right? After all she did? That's not nostalgia, is it? The sex wasn't that great, was it?"
Dexter raised an eyebrow and shrugged.
"Not nostalgia."
"Hmm...I see...what about..."
The look in Dexter's face and the hint of a "Debra!" made her stop. Debra giggled.
"That look: priceless. I know you love Rita and Lila was just a spur of the moment, no worries. You're a man and she's a total slut."
Lila. I don't think I had truly thought of her in a while. I think of Doakes and her memories come to mind - like a spider web that I quickly brush away.
Why would I think of her? I have no regrets: Lila had to die. She wasn't a trophy. If I had such human feelings I would say I killed her for revenge, but as it is it was simply a matter of self-preservation. She was dangerous, too dangerous.
"Usually you don't connect with that sort of thing. You just keep on being same old Dexter no matter what..."
Dexter smiled sadly.
"Yeah, well...I don't know how to explain it myself."
Debra patted her brother's shoulder sympathetically.
"You're only human, like the rest of us."
Am I? Human like the rest of mankind? What is this? This bittersweet sensation...
Dexter simply shrugged.
"I guess." Dexter looked away. "Dinner is ready."
"Good! I'm starving, all this melodramatic talk made my stomach really start to rumble."
--
Debra had stayed long enough to help Dexter clean and wash the dishes. When she left, Dexter started feeling restless for no apparent reason.
Something's wrong. Was it something I said? Something I did? Am I missing some detail? It was an uneventful day.
Call it a gut feeling. An instinctive reaction. What's wrong?
Dexter settled down and turned off the lights.
I'd better rest. Tomorrow I won't be able to afford such luxury as having a good night's sleep: I have unfinished business.
As Dexter took off his clothes he still had the same vague feeling - something he couldn't exactly pinpoint. Finally he dismissed these thoughts and fell asleep.
Who is this naughty person? Evil deeds never go unpunished.
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