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…”

Behind the Grind

While I, as a RPers, know what it is like to be behind the grind of your posts being behind on NaNo is exhausting. At least on a RP you can tell someone that your reply may take a few days and then you have a grace period with NaNo if you get behind it’s like a scramble to get caught up. I didn’t NaNo for 5 days because I was exhausted after my daughter’s birthday and I’m still behind. I feel like I’m never going to get caught up writing 2K to 2.5K every night before bed and I’m still 2.5K words behind.

It’s tiring! Good gravy it’s tiring! I stay up until midnight every night and get up at 6:30 every morning. I’m ready for a break! The only problem with taking a break means that I have to do more catching up.

No rest for the weary I guess.

I’m hoping that here in the next day or so I will get caught up. Zayzie has been helping me push to get the words out but I haven’t surpassed quite yet. I know that the Writer’s chat room helps.

OH! WTF Batman!? I write similar to the way I RP but I have a particular tactic that I make sure my story is cohesive and if something doesn’t work right that is stopping my ability to continue forward then I fix it before I continue. WHY the HELL!? would everyone sit here and tell me to skip it and move on. If it’s not working right now how in the hell is skipping it to go to the next part going to make it any better? All I’m doing is continuing the dredge of the not making sense world and it won’t make any more sense  if I keep writing or not. In fact it will probably make less sense and then I’ll just have a mass jumble of words by the end of it. Don’t tell me to just “skip it”! That doesn’t work. Skipping the problem doesn’t make the problem go away. Trust me, I have an ex husband and if I could skip over the problem I would but I can’t. It has to make sense or else I dwell, I  brood, and I can’t write. I have to fix the problem!!! I don’t understand how anyone thinks that skipping the problem will make it go away or make it work somehow. Changing/fixing is the only way to go. Ask Tim Gunn.

RAWR!!!!!!!!

Note to everyone that wants to help me when I say a scene isn’t working:

  • Cheer me on!
  • Help me work it out!
  • Give me a pat on the back!
  • Snug me!
  • HELP ME!
  • DON’T, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS LIVING, TELL ME TO SKIP IT! That fucking aggravates me more then life itself!

Also, for the past few weeks my life (particularly my driving life) was filled with music fail. First, on the cable Dance channel there was all medium speed unfamiliar dance music and it wasn’t all that dancey, it was more of a trance and it wasn’t inspiring to do anything. Then in the car, every time I get in, either it was the same song or the commercials for most of my trip. I mean, commercials keep music free but seriously!? I don’t spend that much time in the car and listening to commercials is just major fail and it was bull!

Thank you for listening. Until next time everyone. Same Morr time, same Morr channel!

Liz/Dexter Fic Part 8

Dexter had come the next day, and every day while Elizabeth recovered in that hospital bed. It was a pleasant surprise to see his smiling face everyday despite the growing ache. She could feel the desire within her, spreading through her blood like a virus. She should have already been stalking her next victim but she’d been in the hospital. It was unbearable even as she was able to stand on her own without supervision. The only thing that kept the inner darkness at bay was the possibility that Dexter may have been like her.

Gratefully today she was discharged and life continued on as normal.

While in the hospital she made her official statement on the attack in her apartment with everything she “remembered”. Shortly afterward Dexter told her that the case of Piper Adams’ murder had been closed. Now she was free to commune with Dexter in public without sullying his credibility by being a suspect in one of his cases. Lucky for her, Dexter had asked her out to dinner that evening. He informed her that he wanted to make up for all of the hospital food she had to eat. Since it was such a nice offer she couldn’t refuse, not that she would have.

Dexter was a beautiful creature of darkness. He was so inexplicably average it was like looking at a mirror. Nothing about him would stand out to anyone unless you knew what you were looking for and even then… it was a difficult thing to see. If, in fact, that was what she saw in him.

Elizabeth ran another frustrated hand through her hair trying her damnedest to keep the edges of tape from snagging in the unruly mop of too long hair. It didn’t really work the way she had hoped and she ended up ripping off the bandages on her arms despite doctors orders. Once the bandages were removed she couldn’t help but admire the wounds, turning her arm in the mirror to get a full view of them.

Scars.

That’s what they said she’d have, scars. She had never had outward scars before, all of her damage was on the inside from years of abuse. Now she’d have scars some on the outside. Disgusting. She was already beginning to hate herself for it.

Elizabeth had to restrain herself before she put her fist into the mirror and caused more damage. She didn’t need any more of her blood shed, especially not when she was being picked up by Dexter shortly.

Grinding her teeth to get control of her temper she dropped her arm and stormed out of the bathroom. She wasn’t sure she could look at her disgusting body anymore.

She breathed heavily as she sat herself in the chair in her living room. Her dark temptations were starting to get to her. She felt agitated, she needed release but she wasn’t prepared for it. She wasn’t physically strong enough to make sure that she didn’t get caught but she was beginning to deteriorate from the inside.

Every muscle in her body ached, pleaded, moaned for the release that only a kill could give her. She needed it. She couldn’t wait any longer. 3 weeks in the hospital under surveillance to make sure she was healing properly before they let her out was enough to make any sane woman go stark raving mad. She wasn’t an average sane woman but the lack of victim, or even prospect, made her a risk to everyone.

Even Dexter.

Elizabeth couldn’t see him tonight. She needed to kill something. If she saw him then she might lose herself and try to kill him. She needed to get out of there but she knew if she left then she was going to kill someone recklessly but if she stayed then she put the one person that held her interest at risk.

She had to go.

Elizabeth stood up and grabbed her keys. As she reached for her coat…

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound made her freeze. She was caught. No not caught, but she couldn’t escape the date now.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, grabbed her purse, placed her keys inside before she opened the door to see Dexter’s smiling face with a single Lily, how appropriate. She gratefully accepted the flower smelling it momentarily, “Thank you.”

“You look, nice,” he said as his eyes looked her over before they came back up to her face.

“Thank you again. Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall,” he said offering her and arm. Elizabeth stepped out of her apartment, carefully locked her door before she took his arm. “Thank you for coming with me. I know you’ve had a rough past month,” he said looking down at her with a smile.

“Trust me, I’m glad to be out of the house,” even though I’d rather be finding something or someone to kill. Elizabeth’s body felt like it was freezing yet on fire. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to last before she’d snap, and the date just started.

Gratefully Dexter opened the door to allow her to seat herself in his car. She slid in slowly, carefully. He was soon in the car beside her, lights on and car started. The date was on and all she could think about was what was in that car that she could wrap around his neck and kill him with.

Elizabeth took a deep breath as she rubbed her hands together nervously. This was wrong, she shouldn’t need a kill so soon after her last one, 4 weeks was not a long time between kills, if you did them more often then people got suspicious. The ache wasn’t about the kill, no it was about redeeming her pride after being violated. Without the actual culprit that stole her dignity she had to torture some other man to get a similar satisfaction. She needed blood on her hands, in her control. Her choice on how fast or slow it falls. She needed to show him who was boss. She needed…

“Are you okay?”

Elizabeth’s eyes shot to Dexter, a little more venomous then she had intended.

“You just look really nervous. I promise I won’t bite.”

That wasn’t the problem.

Elizabeth huffed her frustration. “I know. I just feel…” she wanted to tell him honestly, go to jail, die, kill or go home, “empty right now. The man took something from me. Something I can’t exactly explain without sounding strange but I want it back and despite how much I want, no, need it. I’m not ready for it,” she clenched her fists, kneading her thigh with her knuckles.

“What did he take from you?”

“He took my,” pride, sex appeal, faith in myself, “happiness from me. You’ve been the only thing that’s kept me from hating myself. I just feel,” disgusting, angry, frustrated, violated…

Elizabeth hadn’t noticed that the car was stopped but when Dexter gently moved her chin to look up at him, it was apparent now. “A sadness that eats you from the inside out?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“It will go away.”

“I don’t know ho…” she couldn’t help herself, he was so close. He smelt of blood again and now that she had her lips pressed against his, he tasted of it as well. She was sure that both the smell and taste were just in her head but that didn’t stop her from pressing harder.

It wasn’t like Elizabeth to get so physical. She preferred her loneliness normally but the kiss was a personification of her frustration, her ache. She needed something to dull the need, to dull her senses although the kiss wasn’t working.

“Take me home Dexter,” she breathed breaking her lips from his, her fingers gently caressing his skin.

———————————————————————————

Elizabeth’s eyes opened to see an empty pillow. She could hardly believe what she had just done, although it wasn’t much of anything. Dexter had gotten her to his apartment and she fell asleep on his bed. Why had she fallen asleep? She didn’t remember being tired before she had gotten there and yet, she had fallen asleep.

Elizabeth rolled to her back, looking over the room.

It was clean, modern looking. Nothing out of the ordinary that would lead someone to believe that he was like her. Which meant that if he was like her, he was careful.

Elizabeth sat up, continuing her search of the room with her eyes for what would let her know if he was like her. She idly began to scratch her arm as she stood up. She began looking over the mundane items on his dresser, his nightstand. She opened his closet still scratching at her arm.

Shirts, pants, suits.

Nothing.

“Sleep well?” a voice came from behind her. Elizabeth quickly spun on her heel to see Dexter a lot closer then she had anticipated.

“I think so,” she replied with a breath of amusement.

“You’re bleeding,” he said pointing to her arm moving closer to her to look. He offered her his hand to her to inspect further.

She gave it to him, her eyes looking down to the damage she had caused. She hadn’t even noticed that she had broken the skin. “I am,” she said plainly. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t even feel the itch,” she lied. She did feel the itch but it wasn’t on her skin, it was under it, coursing through her veins in a place that only one thing could help scratch.

“Let me get something to clean that up. Um… what were you doing in my closet?” he asked as he dragged her with him to the bathroom.

“Looking,” to see if you hid what I think you are in there.

“Looking for what exactly?”

“I was just looking,” she told him as he moved deftly to grab a cloth and rubbing alcohol. He quickly ran her arm under cool water before wiping away the clear liquid and dabbing it with alcohol. The stinging from the alcohol brought her back down to earth. She felt almost centered with the pain, then it was gone and so was the control. She felt the numbing ache in her stomach, the need for a kill, for revenge. The itch.

“There’s not much in there except an old chest and my clothes,” he said as he worked.

“What’s in the chest?”

“My father’s gun.”

“Why do you have it?”

“Because we used to go hunting together and those were some of my best memories of my father.”

Elizabeth nodded as he returned her arm to her with a bandage in place. Another scar, she thought sourly as her eyes went to the mirror where she could see them both.

“Have you ever felt that there was something you knew about someone but you were too afraid to ask if you were right and the thought of it made you anxious?”

“Well yeah, but I normally just ask them and if you’re wrong they tell you, then you don’t have to stress about anymore.”

“But what if it was a secret, something no one was supposed to know.”

“I guess it would depend on the what you knew.”

“Dexter,” Elizabeth said, turning her eyes from the mirror up to the man himself. “I think you’re like me.”

“And what is that exactly?”

Elizabeth looked in his eyes, trying to read what he was thinking, trying to gauge what he was going to do when he heard this. The ache roaring within her, her need to practically bathe in blood, to hear someone scream out her name and ask her to stop. She didn’t know how to quiet it and she didn’t have the ability to do it on her own, not yet, not without hurting herself further. She had to know, perhaps he’d help her.

If he wasn’t like her then perhaps he’d turn her in.

If he wasn’t then maybe he’d ignore it as delirium, or have her institutionalized. It would make the world a safer place, that’s for sure.

If he wasn’t then she’d have to kill him.

If he was then she may have to kill him.

If he was she may have to let him live.

If he was…

“A Serial Killer.”

Dexter had come the next day, and every day while Elizabeth recovered in that hospital bed. It was a pleasant surprise to see his smiling face everyday despite the growing ache. She could feel the desire within her, spreading through her blood like a virus. She should have already been stalking her next victim but she’d been in the hospital. It was unbearable even as she was able to stand on her own without supervision. The only thing that kept the inner darkness at bay was the possibility that Dexter may have been like her.

Gratefully today she was discharged and life continued on as normal.

While in the hospital she made her official statement on the attack in her apartment with everything she “remembered”. Shortly afterward Dexter told her that the case of Piper Adams’ murder had been closed. Now she was free to commune with Dexter in public without sullying his credibility by being a suspect in one of his cases. Lucky for her, Dexter had asked her out to dinner that evening. He informed her that he wanted to make up for all of the hospital food she had to eat. Since it was such a nice offer she couldn’t refuse, not that she would have.

Dexter was a beautiful creature of darkness. He was so inexplicably average it was like looking at a mirror. Nothing about him would stand out to anyone unless you knew what you were looking for and even then… it was a difficult thing to see. If, in fact, that was what she saw in him.

Elizabeth ran another frustrated hand through her hair trying her damnedest to keep the edges of tape from snagging in the unruly mop of too long hair. It didn’t really work the way she had hoped and she ended up ripping off the bandages on her arms despite doctors orders. Once the bandages were removed she couldn’t help but admire the wounds, turning her arm in the mirror to get a full view of them.

Scars.

That’s what they said she’d have, scars. She had never had outward scars before, all of her damage was on the inside from years of abuse. Now she’d have scars some on the outside. Disgusting. She was already beginning to hate herself for it.

Elizabeth had to restrain herself before she put her fist into the mirror and caused more damage. She didn’t need any more of her blood shed, especially not when she was being picked up by Dexter shortly.

Grinding her teeth to get control of her temper she dropped her arm and stormed out of the bathroom. She wasn’t sure she could look at her disgusting body anymore.

She breathed heavily as she sat herself in the chair in her living room. Her dark temptations were starting to get to her. She felt agitated, she needed release but she wasn’t prepared for it. She wasn’t physically strong enough to make sure that she didn’t get caught but she was beginning to deteriorate from the inside.

Every muscle in her body ached, pleaded, moaned for the release that only a kill could give her. She needed it. She couldn’t wait any longer. 3 weeks in the hospital under surveillance to make sure she was healing properly before they let her out was enough to make any sane woman go stark raving mad. She wasn’t an average sane woman but the lack of victim, or even prospect, made her a risk to everyone.

Even Dexter.

Elizabeth couldn’t see him tonight. She needed to kill something. If she saw him then she might lose herself and try to kill him. She needed to get out of there but she knew if she left then she was going to kill someone recklessly but if she stayed then she put the one person that held her interest at risk.

She had to go.

Elizabeth stood up and grabbed her keys. As she reached for her coat…

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound made her freeze. She was caught. No not caught, but she couldn’t escape the date now.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, grabbed her purse, placed her keys inside before she opened the door to see Dexter’s smiling face with a single Lily, how appropriate. She gratefully accepted the flower smelling it momentarily, “Thank you.”

“You look, nice,” he said as his eyes looked her over before they came back up to her face.

“Thank you again. Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall,” he said offering her and arm. Elizabeth stepped out of her apartment, carefully locked her door before she took his arm. “Thank you for coming with me. I know you’ve had a rough past month,” he said looking down at her with a smile.

“Trust me, I’m glad to be out of the house,” even though I’d rather be finding something or someone to kill. Elizabeth’s body felt like it was freezing yet on fire. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to last before she’d snap, and the date just started.

Gratefully Dexter opened the door to allow her to seat herself in his car. She slid in slowly, carefully. He was soon in the car beside her, lights on and car started. The date was on and all she could think about was what was in that car that she could wrap around his neck and kill him with.

Elizabeth took a deep breath as she rubbed her hands together nervously. This was wrong, she shouldn’t need a kill so soon after her last one, 4 weeks was not a long time between kills, if you did them more often then people got suspicious. The ache wasn’t about the kill, no it was about redeeming her pride after being violated. Without the actual culprit that stole her dignity she had to torture some other man to get a similar satisfaction. She needed blood on her hands, in her control. Her choice on how fast or slow it falls. She needed to show him who was boss. She needed…

“Are you okay?”

Elizabeth’s eyes shot to Dexter, a little more venomous then she had intended.

“You just look really nervous. I promise I won’t bite.”

That wasn’t the problem.

Elizabeth huffed her frustration. “I know. I just feel…” she wanted to tell him honestly, go to jail, die, kill or go home, “empty right now. The man took something from me. Something I can’t exactly explain without sounding strange but I want it back and despite how much I want, no, need it. I’m not ready for it,” she clenched her fists, kneading her thigh with her knuckles.

“What did he take from you?”

“He took my,” pride, sex appeal, faith in myself, “happiness from me. You’ve been the only thing that’s kept me from hating myself. I just feel,” disgusting, angry, frustrated, violated…

Elizabeth hadn’t noticed that the car was stopped but when Dexter gently moved her chin to look up at him, it was apparent now. “A sadness that eats you from the inside out?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“It will go away.”

“I don’t know ho…” she couldn’t help herself, he was so close. He smelt of blood again and now that she had her lips pressed against his, he tasted of it as well. She was sure that both the smell and taste were just in her head but that didn’t stop her from pressing harder.

It wasn’t like Elizabeth to get so physical. She preferred her loneliness normally but the kiss was a personification of her frustration, her ache. She needed something to dull the need, to dull her senses although the kiss wasn’t working.

“Take me home Dexter,” she breathed breaking her lips from his, her fingers gently caressing his skin.

———————————————————————————

Elizabeth’s eyes opened to see an empty pillow. She could hardly believe what she had just done, although it wasn’t much of anything. Dexter had gotten her to his apartment and she fell asleep on his bed. Why had she fallen asleep? She didn’t remember being tired before she had gotten there and yet, she had fallen asleep.

Elizabeth rolled to her back, looking over the room.

It was clean, modern looking. Nothing out of the ordinary that would lead someone to believe that he was like her. Which meant that if he was like her, he was careful.

Elizabeth sat up, continuing her search of the room with her eyes for what would let her know if he was like her. She idly began to scratch her arm as she stood up. She began looking over the mundane items on his dresser, his nightstand. She opened his closet still scratching at her arm.

Shirts, pants, suits.

Nothing.

“Sleep well?” a voice came from behind her. Elizabeth quickly spun on her heel to see Dexter a lot closer then she had anticipated.

“I think so,” she replied with a breath of amusement.

“You’re bleeding,” he said pointing to her arm moving closer to her to look. He offered her his hand to her to inspect further.

She gave it to him, her eyes looking down to the damage she had caused. She hadn’t even noticed that she had broken the skin. “I am,” she said plainly. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t even feel the itch,” she lied. She did feel the itch but it wasn’t on her skin, it was under it, coursing through her veins in a place that only one thing could help scratch.

“Let me get something to clean that up. Um… what were you doing in my closet?” he asked as he dragged her with him to the bathroom.

“Looking,” to see if you hid what I think you are in there.

“Looking for what exactly?”

“I was just looking,” she told him as he moved deftly to grab a cloth and rubbing alcohol. He quickly ran her arm under cool water before wiping away the clear liquid and dabbing it with alcohol. The stinging from the alcohol brought her back down to earth. She felt almost centered with the pain, then it was gone and so was the control. She felt the numbing ache in her stomach, the need for a kill, for revenge. The itch.

“There’s not much in there except an old chest and my clothes,” he said as he worked.

“What’s in the chest?”

“My father’s gun.”

“Why do you have it?”

“Because we used to go hunting together and those were some of my best memories of my father.”

Elizabeth nodded as he returned her arm to her with a bandage in place. Another scar, she thought sourly as her eyes went to the mirror where she could see them both.

“Have you ever felt that there was something you knew about someone but you were too afraid to ask if you were right and the thought of it made you anxious?”

“Well yeah, but I normally just ask them and if you’re wrong they tell you, then you don’t have to stress about anymore.”

“But what if it was a secret, something no one was supposed to know.”

“I guess it would depend on the what you knew.”

“Dexter,” Elizabeth said, turning her eyes from the mirror up to the man himself. “I think you’re like me.”

“And what is that exactly?”

Elizabeth looked in his eyes, trying to read what he was thinking, trying to gauge what he was going to do when he heard this. The ache roaring within her, her need to practically bathe in blood, to hear someone scream out her name and ask her to stop. She didn’t know how to quiet it and she didn’t have the ability to do it on her own, not yet, not without hurting herself further. She had to know, perhaps he’d help her.

If he wasn’t like her then perhaps he’d turn her in.

If he wasn’t then maybe he’d ignore it as delirium, or have her institutionalized. It would make the world a safer place, that’s for sure.

If he wasn’t then she’d have to kill him.

If he was then she may have to kill him.

If he was she may have to let him live.

If he was…

“A Serial Killer.”

Liz Fic Part 5

The bump of the club was getting on Elizabeth’s nerves. Normally the sound didn’t bother her but tonight was a particularly nerve wracking night because she wasn’t there to find someone to kill to sate her desire. In fact she was pretty well sated at the moment. She was there to stalk a different sort of prey. Another predator.

After the realization of what Dexter Morgan was Elizabeth had went home and did some research on him. He was spotless. The best she could find on him was a traffic ticket, from when he was 23. It wasn’t anything and it didn’t mean much especially since she wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find. Maybe “Dexter Morgan, Serial Killer” with a list of his victims? While it would have been convenient, it was doubtful. Whatever it was, she didn’t find it looking through her normal circuits. She did, however, find out where he lived which was a good start. That was how she ended up here.

Elizabeth followed him here from his home. Normally she would have went home after following him here but she came inside instead. It was a perverse need to watch another predator stalk their prey. Her need to interact with another person that needed the sticky feeling of blood on their hands to stay sane. It was her darkness reaching out for his.

Elizabeth kept an eye on him the entire night only leaving time to blink and eventually that cost her. She had lost him in the crowd in the split second it took for her eyes to close and open. How was that even possible?

She swung her head around looking frantically for the man she had lost but in the sea of bumping bodies he seemed to be gone.

“You know I thought we agreed that after the Adams case we’d see each other,” an amused grumble said to her from behind. She turned her eyes up to see the face of her prey for that evening. “I’m sorry. I have a thing for a man that looks like he can handle a knife, I mean me, I mean himself,” she said with a shake of her head and a chuckle.

“Sit down and I’ll buy you a drink,” she said offering him the seat next to her.

“Nah. I actually think I’m going to call it a night,” he said to her.

Damn. She was hoping to talk with him. “Didn’t find what you were looking for?” she asked him.

“No,” he said throwing a thumb over his shoulder as an indication that he was getting ready to leave. “I’m going to head out. Long day at work and I’ve got to get up early.”

“Mind walking me to my car?” Elizabeth asked.

“Sure,” he said with a shrug.

What else was she supposed to do? She was only there to watch him and he was leaving. Her best plan was just to leave too.

Elizabeth left the half empty drink on the counter as she let Dexter lead her out of the club. When they got outside she couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped her lips. She was glad that the insistent bumping of the club had been muted to a dull thump behind her as she walked.

He looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. “Glad to be out of there?”

“A little. The pounding music was giving me a headache.”

“If you don’t like it then why do you go?”

To stalk a man that reminds me… of me. “To meet people. I met you tonight didn’t I?”

“I guess so,” he said giving her a thoughtful frown. “Did you come out here to meet someone in particular?”

Elizabeth was getting tired of the fake smile game but kept it up in case she was wrong about him. “Nope, I don’t have a special someone to go meet at random clubs in the middle of my work week. You?” she said with a bump of her shoulder into him.

“I was looking for someone but they weren’t there.”

Elizabeth nodded feeling that she had interrupted his ritual. That was rude of her wasn’t it? Well she would have to make it up to him after she got to know him better. “This is me,” she said coming up to her 2004 dark blue, hatchback Ford Focus. She gave him a nod and a smile in which he returned the nod but not the smile. Elizabeth thought that was a bit odd since he seemed so good at fitting in with the situation.

“Who are you?” he asked her more darkly then she had anticipated his presence imposing on hers in an attempt to press her closer to the car.

“My name is Liz I’m the woman that the cops think murdered my next door neighbors.”

“I know that, but who are you?” his eyes narrowed at her. “I saw you outside of my apartment.”

A low grunt escaped her throat as shoved her shoulders back into her car, his knee held her up, his forearm quickly pressing her painfully against the cool metal frame behind her. Then the blade appeared a beautifully crafted, stainless steel, chef’s knife held rather painfully beneath her chin against her jugular, “Who are you and why are you following me?”

The question was absurdly hilarious! She couldn’t help the reaction as her head fell back the knife still held painfully firm against her neck as she laughed. She could feel the small tingle as the knife dug deep enough to draw blood. He drew first blood then which was fine, she had been the one stalking him, poorly.

“Well I already told you that my name is Liz but that’s not what you want to know is it?” she questioned him as she pulled her head back up the blade of the knife scraping dangerously across her skin. “Why am I stalking you? Well I thought it was obvious Dexter. We have something in common,” she said with her toothy alligator grin.”

The pressure of the knife loosened for a moment before being pressed harder then before followed by a bizarre twist of him mashing his lips against hers. She yelped into his lips before she relaxed into the kiss closing her eyes, her arms reaching around him to pull his body closer to hers. She could hardly believe what was happening it was all so amazingly sexual. All of her favorite things mashed together in one place.

Blood.

Pain.

Pleasure.

The possibility of death.

The hand that had been holding her against the car moved to help push her higher on it their lips still hungrily devouring one another. She could die at that moment and be happy to die. She was not as alone as she once thought. The crushing loneliness that made her work dangerously close to the line of unsafe.

It was minutes, maybe hours, of being pressed against that car before he removed his lips from hers panting in her ear. “Your mine,” he rasped before the blade that was pressed against her neck shot a cool pain into her as he sliced across her jugular.

For a moment Elizabeth was surprised by the action, her eyes wide, accusing before she smiled and her body slumped down to the ground as he removed himself from her, his green shirt soaked in her blood. Her blood. Wasn’t that a beautiful canvas to stare at? Her own.

She gurgled a thank you as she stared up at his darkened silhouette, the only thing she could see clearly were his eyes and the hypnotizing blade that he held stained with her blood.

My blood is so beautiful.

Elizabeth could feel herself slipping away as the darkness began to surround her vision as everything began to fade, the life draining out of her.