The Real Bay Harbor Butcher

“You’re awake!” his voice was almost cheery as her bleary eyes blinked against the brightness of the room. She opened her mouth to speak but her throat felt dry.

Licking her lips she opened her eyes to look at him. He looked somewhat disheveled. “What’s going on?” she croaked as the room slowly came into focus. She was surrounded in plastic just like Gregory James was.

“Do you know these men?”

“Yes,” she croaked again as she tried to move to be held back by a sticky sensation of firmness. She looked down to see that she was covered in plastic just like Mr James and that made her head spin around in a circle groaning her eyes fluttering to the top of her head her mind whirling almost putting her out again.

“Oh, no, stay with me,” he said moving closer to her bringing her focus back into the present. So this is why she was sweating. She couldn’t figure out how she got here. When she got here…

“How did I get here? Were is Gregory?”

“Gregory?” his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Who is that?”

“The guy I was going to kill,” she said with a huff, closing her eyes against the annoyingly loud light. The darkness didn’t comfort her, the light bleeding through her eyelids.

“It’s good that I caught you before you did.”

“I knew what you were when I saw you at the police station. You’re just like all of them,” she said rolling her head to the images hung up for her viewing pleasure.

“I’m nothing like them.”

“You are like them. Like me,” she smirked. “Wolf in sheeps clothing.”

“I’m nothing like you. Killing innocent people,” he yelled turning around and running a hand over his hair.

Elizabeth couldn’t help but let out a throaty laugh. “You think they are innocent?” she asked him her grin spreading across her lips. “Jamie Deak, woman rapist. Preferred type 15-20 years of age, vulnerable and red headed. Stalks his victims for 1 month before he abducts them. Wears masks so they can recognize them and bathes them before he drops them off in a random park to find their way home,” she nodded to another picture. “Julio Cortez, likes to beat his women and prefers that they fight. Doesn’t stalk them has a few women that he absuses regularly that can’t get away from him for fear of their family.”

Elizabeth looked to Dexter before she continued, “Darren Lumley, takes advantage of his college students and promises them good grades for sex or failure for denial. Prefers the mousy quiet ones to the loud and confident ones. Erik Cross, Voyeur and blackmailer. When the blackmail isn’t enough he abducts women and rapes them with inanimate objects taping it. Dexter Morgan, abducts and kills. Preferences… unknown. The difference is they don’t kill people but they may as well have. They destroy lives which is the same thing.”

“No,” he shook his head.

“Deny it all you want. Isn’t this your ritual?”

Dexter finally nodded. “I am nothing like them. I have control over the dark passenger.”

“Really?” she asked genuinely intrigued. “Then why is he loose?” why was she so calm in the face of her killer? Whatever got her here, whatever that journey in her mind was it prepared her for this and she knew what was coming. Why be afraid of it?

She wanted it.

“This is control. I focus it…”

“Keep telling yourself that cupcake,” she interrupted him. “Because when they find out what you are, what control you have they’ll be just as disgusted of you as they are of them,” she nodded to the pictures, “or me.”

“I’m different.”

“We all are. We’re all special snowflake killers,” he shoved a piece of cotton in her mouth.

“Shut up,” he growled at her. She closed her eyes as the scalpel came to her cheek the thin blade biting at her skin a trail of blood dripping down the side of her cheek. “Thank you,” she mumbled but it was more like a “mnnn ouuu” sound with the piece of cotton in her mouth.

Elizabeth looked up to him a smile on her face as he lifted the knife.

What a beautiful ritual…

The knife came straight down into her sternum, she grunted at the sensation, a tear rolling down the side of her face in happiness.

She was free now.
Free from the anger.
Free from the pain.
Free from the urge.
Free from the herself.
Free from the world.

They say as you die that you see your life flash before your eyes. All she saw was how she got there. It was just before the unfamiliar shoe. It was a struggle with him. He had kneed her painfully in her side that’s where the throbbing and sharp pains had come from. Finally he got her pinned to the ground and shoved a needle in her neck and she fell asleep.

Like now… the image of Dexter atop of her faded to the Dexter shuddering in delight in front of her before it faded to darkness.

The eternal silent dark.

Brightness

This part of her ritual was different. There was something about it that made her excited but set her off. She felt agitated as she sat there waiting for the guy to come out. She could practically feel how wrong this was in her bones. She ached. Her muscles were tense. She felt like she wanted to scream. She smiled to herself, in a way it was right and yet so very wrong.

She was wearing a long sleeved shirt to cover all the henna tattoos. She was wearing soft makeup, her mascara running down her face from the fake tears she had been crying. Her normally disheveled and short hair covered in a blonde wig that went past her shoulders in soft curls. She sat on the bench in front of Gregory James’ building.

It wasn’t long, he always stayed after everyone else to screw his secretary. She had waited until after the secretary left before she came and sat down to wait for him. He always stayed up there afterward to smoke a cigar and drink a glass of scotch.

Elizabeth smirked as he hit the door exactly when she expected. She quickly wiped it off her face as she began to sob louder to catch his attention.

Routines…
They all had them.
Some were better then others.
Some were to keep a schedule.
Some to keep sanity.
Some, like for Gregory James, were t keep to some form of a perverse life of perfection and superiority.
Tonight his routine would change.

The man approached looked around for a moment before his eyes settled on her. She didn’t see it because her face was buried in her hands but he smirked at her. She continued to sob even as the the man’s shoes came to where she could see it. “What’s the matter doll face?” he asked her, it sadly almost sounded sincere.

Elizabeth sniffled as she looked up to him. “I,” her chin quivered, “I just…” she sobbed again as she saw Dexter silently move in behind him. “My fiance just got killed in a car accident and… and…” Dexter’s hand went around his shoulders as he stabbed his plunger into his neck and depressed it. The man made a small attempt at a struggle before he fell to the ground.

“And that was awesome. Is that how you do it?” as she looked from the man on the ground to the predator in front of her.

“Yes,” he said bending down to grab the rather lithe man. He reminded her of a young Christian Bale… dark hair, fit but thin with a round face. Strong chin. He would have struggled more had she been alone. He would have been very difficult to subdue. Her side burned more at the thought.

“So much cleaner then me,” she said as she watched him pick the man up and lift him over his shoulder. Elizabeth picked up the briefcase.

“In more ways then one,” he said to her which caused her to frown at him, her brow furrowing again in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“My body disposal is cleaner as well.”

“How do you dispose of them then?”

“The ocean,” he said.

Elizabeth gasped. “You’re not!” she said breathlessly.

“Not what?” he looked over his shoulder at her, his own confusion written on his face.

“The butcher,” she said conspiratorially low.

“I hated that name,” his voice was etched with annoyance.

“But I thought that the butcher was dead…”

“Someone is dead.”

“That’s obvious.”

How exactly did they get in the car? It didn’t matter they were going to the kill room. It wasn’t exactly right. It was covered in plastic, just like the man himself. Where were the cleaning products? She had to be calm, what she wanted was there. What she needed was there. The tools of her trade. The things to make him scream…

But Dexter put something in his mouth. He couldn’t cry for help. If he did someone would hear him. She knew that.

This was going too fast.
How did they get to the kill room already.

Elizabeth’s mind was whirling with the strangeness of this all. Was it because it was so wrong that nothing was working out correctly? That nothing was the way it was supposed to be that she didn’t notice the details? That had to be it. Everything wasn’t as right as she needed it to be.

There were her tools.
There was the man.
There was her.
Her hair was in her face.
She was sweating.

When had she started sweating?
What did she do to start sweating?
It was the room, the room was hot.
So many bodies, too much body heat for the small room.

“I…” she said breathlessly again as the room started to spin.

This all felt wrong.
So wrong.

Her side started to ache but not the burning throb of a stab wound but the dull throb like someone kicked her hard in the side. The room started to get obscenely bright as she stared at Dexter.

Was he grinning?

That image took her breath away as she heard his voice but it was far away, not from the man in front of her. He was above her, like the light.

Elizabeth blinked again. What was happening?

“Good…”

The Sooner the Better

The next day with Dexter was an odd one for Elizabeth. She woke up and Dexter was gone which made her panic for a few moments.

Looking around she sat up and slipped off the bed. She slowly approached the door, her clothes abandoned to the floor. As she got closer to the door she could smell the lightest hint of bacon in the air. She opened the door and peered her head out. She didn’t see him but she could hear the tell tale signs of food cooking. She was hesitant about leaving the sanctity of the room but she abandoned it as her stomach knotted painfully in hunger.

Slowly Elizabeth tip toed out into the living area peering around the corner to see Dexter there cooking food. She watched for a few moments before he looked up to her and smiled. “Hungry?” he asked her. She stared a moment longer before she came out from her corner. “Very,” she said to him with a growing grin. “Did we really?”

He nodded as he turned and placed a plate filled with food on the counter for her. He gave her a once over before he went back to eating. “I’m a closet nudist,” she said to him as if she knew what he was thinking.

“I was just appreciating,” he said flipping the burner off. raising an eyebrow she got up onto a chair and picked up her fork before she started to eat looking at Dexter more then she was at her food. He moved like a sheep but under that facade he was a wolf and it amazed her. How did he fit in so well. Even she didn’t feel that comfortable in her own skin. She suddenly felt highly uncomfortable without any clothes on. “How do you do that?” she said pointing at him with her fork and indicating to his whole being.

“What exactly?”

“Blend so well,” she said tilting her head to the side and looking at him like a new angle would help her figure it out.

“I had a good teacher.”

“You’re the prodigy of a serial killer?” she said the shock apparent in her voice as she stared at him with a furrowed brow. The shake to his head brought out a firmer look, the predator within tensing at the question. It was almost too beautiful to watch as he fought the instincts.

“No,” he said to her.

“Then what?”

“My dad knew what I was. I have a code,” he said as if that explained it all.

“Don’t we all,” she breathed at him before taking a bite of the bacon, her wicked alligator grin on her face. She wanted to sink her teeth back into his flesh. Feel how good it was again. “What’s next?”

He looked up from his plate and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

There was a few minutes of silence as they both at. She chewed thoughtfully on the eggs that she was made before she took in a breath to ask the next question, “What if I asked for your help?”

“What sort of help?” he asked setting down his plate.

“Help to get a target,” she licked her lips. This was one of the hardest things she’s ever had to do. She still wasn’t quite strong enough. Last night she strained herself beyond what she imagined and the throbbing in her side was more painful today. She was surprised she even made it through the night.

Dexter stared at her firmly for a long while. As he stared she could feel the blood rushing past her ears, her teeth ached with the sensation, she wanted to close her eyes and imagine the blood dripping over her skin in a rush. The warmth intoxicating. As she took a long blink he spoke, “Okay. Who did you have in mind?”

“His name is Gregory James,” she said to him. “He’s a well to do executive that gets off on raping women,” she said to him. “That’s my code,” she explained. “Men who abuse women.”

He looked down before he looked up at her. There was a darkness there, his eyes seemed more sunken in, his face seemed more hollow. Was she seeing the real thing now? The thought made her heart thump more loudly against her chest as she got excited just thinking about it. “When?” he asked gruffly.

“Tonight?”

Death and Breakfast

It was a blur that brought Elizabeth and Dexter back to his apartment. There was an intensity in the way they touched, the way they kissed. It was painful, like something gentle wouldn’t get through to the nerves. He pushed her inside after opening the door and she grunted her excitement to him as she moved back to press her lips back into his.

There were few breaks in the kisses as they removed their clothes hastily discarding them as he backed her into his room slamming her harshly against the door as his hands pressed bruisingly into her hips. His hands pulled her closer to him as the kiss slowed. She ran her nails around his back leaving red marks in their wake.

He groaned into her lips pressing his fingertips harder into her flesh.

The speed was astonishingly slow as they stood practically suspended in activity, her fingers moving slow, his hands had stopped.

Finally it was like the world came crashing back around them and he bit her lip drawing blood. They both made an elated sound as he tugged on her hips lifting her off the ground, breaking the kiss to throw her onto the bed with a grunt of effort. He was quick to follow her covering her body with his, his hands pressed into the mattress around her shoulders.

His body shifted and she felt his hand running up her leg stopping again at her hips he pressed harder with his thumb digging painfully into her skin making her moan into his lips. She moved her hands to wrap around his neck to run her nails down his back. He shifted, putting all of his weight onto his legs as he grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head.

He finally broke the kiss to trail kisses down her jawline to her neck. Elizabeth leaned up and clamped her teeth on his shoulder painfully enough to get him to grunt into her own shoulder thrusting his hips into hers painfully. She bit harder on his shoulder.

She released his shoulder digging her head into the mattress as she arched her back grinding her hips against his with a moan.

Dexter shifted her hands to be held together by one hand, his other hand roaming down her body as he tilted his head to take her breast into her mouth. She cried out as his teeth clamped down painfully, her hips grinding where it could, starving for stimulation. His hand continued it’s painful trail down her body getting to her panties, the only article of clothing she hadn’t been able to remove.

His fingers wrapped around the thin fabric and pulled, the elastic biting painfully into her flesh causing her to cry out again, biting her bloodied lip to keep herself from whimpering. When the fabric finally gave way to his strength she let out a sigh only to take in a sharp breath as he forcibly shoved his fingers inside of her as he clamped down on her nipple, she cried out in pain arching her back, thrusting her stomach into him.

Dexter began a methodical but painful thrust of his fingers as he went back to kissing her skin as Elizabeth held back the moans by biting her lips.

His lips finally found hers again a moan escaping into his lips, his hand stopping it’s thrusting, like her loss of control was a punishment would be for him to stop. His fingers slide over her skin getting her wetness on her skin. He stroked her cheek before he broke the kiss using those fingers to run across her lips before he forced them into her mouth for her to suck them clean.

Elizabeth closed her lips and began to suck closing her eyes as she thrust her hips into him. She felt so out of control, just like her life. She wasn’t the dominate one in here and it felt amazing.

Once he was done having her clean off his fingertips he pulled his fingers out of her mouth and ran them down her chin and her chest to wipe them off.

Finally he sat back, pulling her hands with him. She thought for a moment that she was going to be able to appreciate his manhood as he had just done for her. Instead he released her hands and smoothed them over her arms before he forcefully flipped her over grabbing at her shoulder to put her on her hands. She instinctively pulled her hips putting her on her hands and knees.

Dexter placed his hands painfully on her hips as he pulled her hips back into his. She could feel his warm thickness against her skin and she throbbed with desire but he continued to deny her what she wanted.

He slapped her ass after pulling her into him again causing her to cry out and moan. She dug her nails into his blankets. “Give it to me,” she demanded. His response was wrapping his fingers into her hair and pulling her back so his chest was against her, his face near to her ear. “No,” he growled at her rubbing himself into her as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Please,” she begged.

“No,” he said nuzzling his face into her neck placing gentle kisses on her neck. He released his grip on her hair so he could use it to twist and pull her nipples as he teased he with his hips.

“Please,” she begged again.

“No,” he whispered harshly.

The hand that was twisting and pulled at her nipple trailed across her skin and back up to her hair pulling her head back before he bent her back over continuing his methodical thrust.

He leaned over her pinning her down with his forearm on the back of her neck as he reached over her to the nightstand to grab something out of the drawer that she couldn’t see, her face turned toward the end of the bed.

She felt the pressure release from her and packaging being removed. A short moment later her hips were picked up and he slipped inside of her wet pussy with a low grunt. She let out a sigh as he got his bearings and began that methodical rhythm from before.

Elizabeth got up to her hands which put her in the perfect distance for him to grab her hair like reigns. She moaned loudly as he tugged harshly.

Elizabeth could feel the build up, tried to swallow it and keep the high going and just as she got close to cumming he pulled away from her. The lack of sensation devastating. He pushed her hips over and spread her legs open thrusting himself into her as he stared at her. His darkness was very apparently the dominant thing at the moment.

She cried out and he placed his hand over her mouth with one hand holding up an ankle. The pressure from him thrusting painful, he was so deep inside of her but she couldn’t cry out her pain and satisfaction. She couldn’t ask him to thrust harder.

Finally she came moaning into his hand as she clamped her teeth down onto it, her body shuddering. He grunted at her again as he continued to thrust, faster now until his body practically stopped moving, moaning himself as he came right afterward thrusting harder before he slumped over her, pinning her to the bed still inside of her.

She now had full rein of her hands and she dragged her nails up his back digging in so skin came up with it. He groaned as he bit at her shoulder but made no move to stop her.

They were wordless as they lay there in each others embrace.

As Elizabeth sat there underneath Dexter’s weight the knowledge washed over her.
She thought that it would scare her more.
The knowledge.
This was the beginning of the end.
She wasn’t even sad about it. She knew what this meant.. to her.
She sighed as she closed her eyes, allowing herself to be beneath Dexter’s mass as she drifted off into sleep.

This was acceptance.

I Know the Pieces Fit

Elizabeth ran a hand through her reddened hair. She didn’t like it but it was a precautionary measure, just like the colored contacts, the henna tattoo’s and the mass amounts of makeup. She turned herself into a goth because he knew what she looked like. It required a look drastically different enough that he wouldn’t recognize her.

The traits of a good monster was the ability to adapt.
Elizabeth adapted well.
When Dexter saw her he looked again and by then she was gone. She hoped he thought he was seeing a ghost.

Elizabeth had been stalking him for three weeks… maybe four? She was beginning to lose track. Without her steady routine one day ran into the next and then the next and it all seemed like one big exhausting blur of Dexter’s grinning face. Despite her want to connect with him she knew killing him was for the best. Then why did her heart beat so hard when she brushed past him?

He kept her up at night. She wanted his death for fear of her life but she liked him. If there was any other way she’d find it.

The only problem was that she couldn’t live in a nightmare forever.
Dexter was her nightmare.
She was in a living nightmare.
That was why tonight was the night.
There was no more waiting.
No more worrying.
No more dreaming.
If she got rid of Dexter then Elizabeth got rid of the nagging prophesy. She’d be able to fall back into her normal routine again. She’d also be alone again with no hope for a companion.
Life would be better without Dexter.
Life would be worse without Dexter.
At least she believed her life would be better without Dexter.

Elizabeth sighed in frustration and tilted her head toward the floor with a final glance toward her adversary before she rounded the corner to prepare for the night.

She required strength.
She required willpower.
She required sleep.

—————————–

Six hours later Elizabeth was following Dexter through the crowds of one of the many street marketplaces in Miami. She stayed a safe enough distance behind him and looked at things, stopping constantly at booths that looked like she would be interested in. Blend and blend well. It was a tactic one learnt in High School with bullies and brats. She was one of the well blended brats with no money.

Next booth. Next meaningless item that looked vibrantly gaudy, like she did.

Soon Dexter reached the end of the market and he kept going which cause Elizabeth to pick up her pace. She just needed an alley. An alley and the wire in her hoodies pocket. She twisted her fist around the wire as she passed her first opportunity, Dexter too far ahead of her to take it.

Alley.
Building.
Alley.
Building.

Elizabeth’s heart started to race, the darkness inside of her taking complete form. The only thing in her head was her own dark, wide grin and blue eyes filled with a wild fire.

Alley.
Building.
Alley…

Elizabeth released a soft sigh as she jumped throwing the wire around Dexter’s neck using her height as leverage to pull him backward and into the alley. She wrapped the wire as tightly as she could around his throat as he fought her, his elbows viciously jabbing into her breasts and ribs slamming her repeatedly into the brick wall of the building closest to them in the alley.

Elizabeth couldn’t help, during the struggle, that it was uncommon for them not to beg in some way.
This didn’t seem right.
This wasn’t right.

Elizabeth loosened her grip just enough for Dexter to catch a lucky break slamming her into the wall again, a moan of pain escaping her lips as he twisted around holding her against the wall with his forearm on her neck slowly putting pressure. This was it, just a little more pressure and she’d pass out. A little more after that and her larynx would be crushed.

Elizabeth gasped for breath as her hands pushed against Dexter her knee moving for the groin but denied by his prepared thigh. Slowly she felt consciousness slip away from her before the pressure was gone and she was on the ground gasping for breath, Dexter above her rubbing his throat.

What are you doing?” he growled at her.

“What… I have… to, to..” Elizabeth coughed placing her palms on the ground to push herself up, “survive.”

And killing me is the way to survive?” Dexter asked her, helping her off of the ground pinning her against the wall with his imposing form. “I come back from the crime scene expecting to find you asleep on my bed and you were gone. I was going to tell you that you clean up everything very well.” He frowned, “Other then your body disposal but for now you were safe. So what do you mean survive? What are you hiding?”

“I need to kill someone Dexter. I am unraveling inside,” while this was only part of the reason she hoped it was enough.

Dexter’s eyes bore into hers as they tried to read one another. Elizabeth still trying to catch her breath, every nerve burning for rest, to stop fighting and yet to stay awake and fight. She felt so conflicted. She had never been so out of control near someone before. She needed to regain something here. She needed to regain that sense of control she lost in the bedroom with the unfamiliar shoe.

Elizabeth needed Dexter.

Without words Dexter seemed to get the signal, or perhaps he wanted something from her just as badly as she wanted it from him but he pressed his lips messily into hers again his hands finding their way to her hips, her waist pulling her closer to him.

While impulsiveness was the trait of a desperate serial killer she need something to keep hold of the thread that held all of her together. At the moment that something was him. For now, ignoring the nightmares were all she could do.

A small amount of trust could lead to a whole lot of success.
Or a whole lot of defeat.
For now they both won.

Debating my writing

So I actually got to writing the next chapter in my Dexter Fanfiction and I’ve come to an impasse. I ddon’t like the new direction that the previous chapter took me. Either I’m not liking how this chapter is coming out or I need something creative to point my character into a direction.

Now, lets be honest, it’s a fanfiction so I can have a bit of fun with it and I wanted a little bit of monster love in it so I could pivot my direction away from pure hate to pure lust and I don’t think I’d have a problem but my question is, do you think that would deter my normal reader. I honestly don’t know if it will or won’t. Every one of the people that have read it like it so far and I have already added the element in there.

So to romanticize or to not romanticize…. that is the question of a woman needing some romancing.

I think the answer is obvious but if you want to put forth your input read the story.

Current continuation chapter probably being sacked…. feel lucky I am sharing my unfinished work as I normally don’t.

Elizabeth ran a hand through her reddened hair. She didn’t like it but it was a precautionary measure, just like the colored contacts, the henna tattoo’s and the mass amounts of makeup. She turned herself into a goth because he knew what she looked like. It required a look drastically different enough that he wouldn’t recognize her.

The traits of a good monster was the ability to adapt.Elizabeth adapted well.When Dexter saw her he looked again and by then she was gone. She hoped he thought he was seeing a ghost.

Elizabeth had been stalking him for three weeks… maybe four? She was beginning to lose track. Without her steady routine one day ran into the next and then the next and it all seemed like one big exhausting blur of Dexter’s grinning face. It kept her up at night because when she slept she dreamt. The dreams growing more vivid, like he was attacking her through her dreams. They were no longer surreal dreams but more of lucid nightmares of being gutted one organ at a time.

She was in a living nightmare.
That was why tonight was the night.
There was no more waiting.
No more worrying.
No more dreaming.

If she got rid of Dexter then Elizabeth got rid of the nagging prophesy.She’d be able to fall back into her normal routine again.

Life would be better without Dexter.
At least her life would be better without Dexter.
Elizabeth tilted her head toward the floor with a final glance toward her adversary before she rounded the corner to prepare for the night.

She required strength.
She required willpower.
She required sleep.