The rhythm of the lights dimming would have been soothing had it not been for the obnoxious buzz of the florescent or the jabber of the woman talking constantly. “We need an O negative transfusion and an O.R. Room prepped. This woman has lost a lot of blood and has multiple…” the rhythmic beat of the lights faded quickly into a dark grey then to black as Elizabeth blacked out again.
Elizabeth felt strange. There was an almost nauseous feeling to it but she didn’t feel sick. No, it was more of a throbbing in her abdomen, her arms, her head, her neck. She tried to move, tried to touch her stomach where it throbbed the most but her limbs felt like lead. No matter how hard she willed herself to move she couldn’t move in the soundless black.
She supposed she could ask the normal questions to herself but that would be kind of pointless. Where was she? Why was she there? Philosophical non-sense that meant nothing when she considered that she couldn’t remember anything before she got there.
The question then was, what could she remember?
Blood. It was everywhere.
The unfamiliar shoe.
The strange lights.
Then the blackness.
“She’s coming out of it,” an unfamiliar male voice interjected into the blackness.
“I thought she was under! We’re not done yet put her back under,” said a second voice.
“That could put her in a coma or kill her!”
“Her coming out before I finish surgery could kill her. Put he…r…”
The quiet enveloped her again.
Surgery? She didn’t remember going in for some procedure but perhaps she lost her memory. Maybe…. The darkness began to feel crushing. The throbbing began to subside being replaced with a light feeling. Her mind began to feel fuzzy and she couldn’t find her thoughts through the haze.
“DEXTER!” Elizabeth shouted her eyes snapped open to see the dulled florescent bulb above her. Her throat ached, the dullest scratch like she hadn’t drank anything for days. She tried to move but her arms and chest were strapped down. She struggled with the restraints not understanding why they were even on her. Was she convicted of something? Was she ina mental institution finally? She struggled harder against the cushioned straps, her arms beginning to burn.
“She’s awake,” a gruff Latin voice came from the hall.
“What did she say?” a female Latino voice came through. “Did she say Dexter?”
“That’s what it sounded like. I know she was flirting with him at the precinct. Perhaps she would do better to talk to him? I don’t want to upset her, she’s been through a lot,” it was Detective Batista. “I’ll go in and see her while you go get him.”
Elizabeth eased her struggle against the restraint when the burly figure of Detective Batista came closer to her. She tried to talk but it came out more of a groggy moan. “Dete-tive Ta-Tista,” she whispered huskily to him. “Water,” she croaked. “Puh,” she groaned and struggled to pull her hand up to her throat but remained restrained.
The Detective seemed to get the gist as he grabbed a glass and filled it with water bringing it over for her to drink. She closed her eyes as the medium warm water chaffed down her throat. Mmm, Miami’s best tap water.
“You’ve been through a lot,” she heard the detective say as he pulled the nourishing glass of disgusting water away from her lips.
“I can only im-magine,” she continued groggily. “Not sure the last time I woke up in hand cuffs. College maybe?” she grinned lazily up to him giving her hand a tug to emphasize the point.
“You still have your sense of humor. That’s good,” he said giving her another drink of the water. “That’s really good actually.” He tilted his head as he pulled the cup away from her lips, still forgetting or neglecting to remove the restraints from her arms. “Do you remember what happened to you before you came here?”
She looked around and took a deep breath. “I’m still trying to figure out where here is,” she told him. “I guess it would help if I had a little more… um,” she closed her eyes to attempt to think of the word. “I don’t know. Umm, movement?” she tugged at her wrists to signify the restraints to hopefully enlighten the rather confused looking detective.
It took longer then she expected for the concept to come over him. “Oh, uh. Let me get a nurse to let you out of those. I heard you are quite the restless sleeper,” he told her as he stood up to get some help. That probably explained why she was tied down. Pulling out IV’s while you slept was not good for healing, if that’s what she was supposed to be doing.
It was only a few minutes before a nurse came in followed by Detective Batista and a new face. It was a woman but it wasn’t Detective Morgan. The nurse immediately began to tug and pull at her chest causing a few sharp intakes of breath and groans. Every movement felt like a knife being jabbed into her side. “What in the hell happened to me,” she asked after a particularly loud groan as the strap over her shoulders was removed and she could wiggle them to get more comfortable.
“We were hoping you could tell us that Miss Thory,” the Latina woman asked.
“Did you not tell her Detective Batista?” Elizabeth asked throwing an accusing gaze in his direction.
“Lieutenant, she prefers to be called Liz.”
“Liz then,” the lieutenant said with a frustrated breath. “What happened to you?”
Elizabeth’s right wrist was released from it’s restraint which gave her the ability to rub them gently. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I don’t remember much. I remember leaving the precinct to go home and then I woke up here,” she opened her eyes. She twisted her hips to adjust her position. With the movement a sudden jolt of pain shot from her abdomen outward to all of her limbs. The sudden shock made her grip the plastic bars that kept her in her bed. “Ow,” she said as she groaned settling down into her original position. “Maybe someone could enlighten me on the damage before I do something that stupid again.”
Detective Batista chuckled with a move to muffle it by rubbing his hand over his mouth.
“Sure,” the lieutenant said moving out into the hall signaling that she wanted the detective to follow her leaving the quiet nurse alone with the forgetful serial killer. This was great. She knew most of what happened but she wasn’t sure exactly what she should divulge.
Yes ma’am, he was bad with a knife, I could tell because I’m a Serial Killer.
No ma’am, I don’t actually kill people for a living, it’s more of a hobby really.
Yes ma’am, he was in my apartment waiting for me.
No ma’am, I wasn’t afraid. Why should I be afraid of an ignorant asshole that broke into my home?
Yes ma’am, I fought back and obviously I didn’t win.
No ma’am, I don’t remember what happened after that, I just remember the blood and the unfamiliar shoe.
Elizabeth was shaken out of her imaginary answer scenario when the door opened and a doctor, followed by an unsuspected smiling face.
“Dexter?” Elizabeth questioned more informally then she probably should have. She had only met him twice and they were already on a first name basis? She didn’t think they actually were, “I mean Mr Morgan. Why are you here?”
“You can call me Dexter and I heard you asked for me by name.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks burned in embarrassment. It was unlike her to show that sort of emotion but she couldn’t believe that she had asked for him by name. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” she rubbed a hand through her matted hair as he gave her a smile. “You shouldn’t have come down here.”
“It’s okay, the lieutenant asked me to come down and collect some blood samples from you anyways. Like from your hair,” he said flipping some of her matted hair as he gently sank into the bed beside her.
“Alright Miss Thory, I understand that you wanted to know what all we did to fix you up,” great, an informal, interrupting doctor. This explanation would be short and probably stupid. “Well you had a few cuts on your neck that we stitched up, you’re really lucky that you didn’t nick an artery there because it was really close. Then we patched up a few cuts on your arms and a gouge on your leg, it looked like someone stabbed the knife into your thigh. Then we stitched up your stomach where you had a few stab wounds. We couldn’t tell how many but you were really lucky that they were shallow and didn’t do any internal damage or you would be dead.”
Elizabeth was pretty sure that luck didn’t have anything to do with it. Although, how he got so many cuts in before she took him down was beyond her.
“You’ll have to stay in the hospital for at least a few days while we watch you but you’ll be out of here in no time. You’re lucky you got that call into 911 or you’d be dead.”
“Thank you doctor,” she said with a forced genuine smile.
“I’ll let you talk with your boyfriend here, then a nurse will come in to check on you in while,” he said slapping his clipboard against his hand with a loud ‘pop’.
Simultaneously both Dexter and Elizabeth gave off an “Umm,” to signify the inaccuracy of his statement.
“He’s not my…”
“She’s not my…”
“Oop, sorry. I just figured that you were,” the doctor back peddled. “Let me get out of here so you guys can talk anyways,” he said quickly retreating from the room that now stood in a tense silence.
“Umm,” he started. “Lieutenant LaGuerta wanted me to ask you if you remember what happened,” he said with a frown.
“I don’t remember much. Just waking up in blood and the unfamiliar shoe,” the word blood set her teeth on edge. She may remember it but she didn’t get to enjoy it. Not like she should have been able to. She felt violated in the largest but most private part of her life.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’m not much help,” she told him. She was pretty sure that this wasn’t the place to remember more. At least not the more that she did remember. The dream with the smiling serial killer. “Did he die?”
Dexter looked confused about the question, like he was caught off guard. “Did who die?”
“The man. The one,” that I didn’t get to torture and that almost killed me. The one that attacked me. The bastard that I cut to ribbons as he sliced me up. The one “that tried to,” rape and “kill me,” she said the anger seeping into her voice.
Dexter’s brow furrowed, “Yes he was dead when emergency services got to you. Are you alright? You look upset.”
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said as she began to rub her hand absentmindedly. She could feel the ache grow. “I feel,” she huffed in frustration as she saw the face of the lieutenant in the window to her room. She couldn’t ask him anything there. She doubted she’d ever be able to tell him her secret no matter how much she wanted to, “tired.”
“Not a problem. I’ll just get those samples from your hair and under your finger nails then get out of here so you can rest.”
“Is this what you always do? Get to see the sick and dying and get samples?” she asked with a smirk.
“Actually I’m a Blood Spatter analyst.”
“Blood Spatter? And you’re here collecting dry and crusted samples from my hair? Why would you do something as silly as that?”
“Well I was the only one available.”
“Oh,” she said, the disappointment apparent in her voice. A serial killer could hope.
“Not that I didn’t want to see you I was just saying that it may have been someone else but I was available.”
“I understand,” she said with a small smile as he leaned in with a q-tip that he just sprayed with some chemical. She took in a breath and held it while his face was close to hers. He smelt of blood and sweat, “You killed someone recently,” she whispered.
“What?” he asked looking down at her with surprise.
“Hmmm,” she smiled. “You smell like blood. You must have killed recently.” She looked up to him with a smirk. “It’s a joke you blood spatter analyst.”
He must have been holding his breath too because he let it out in one quick rush as he sat back and clicked the lid on his q-tip swab. “You had me going there for a second.”
“I’m pretty good at that. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s alright. I think I’m done. If they need more they’ll get it from you I think.”
Elizabeth set her hand on his leg. “Will you come to see me again?”
“Sure,” he said with a shrug and a smile.
“Tomorrow works. Around noon?”
“Only if you promise to bring me something not hospital food.”
“Alright, it’s a date then.”
He didn’t move, staring at her. Maybe he was thinking about collecting from her fingernails like he said he was going to. Perhaps, instead, he was trying to measure her up or maybe he was imagining her as a serial killer like she had when she first met him.
Dexter the knife man.
Elizabeth the knife woman.
Together they rid the world of people to sate their own desire to hurt things.
They are…. Serial Killers! A new kind of Super Hero.