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.

Cheshire Grin

Elizabeth’s feet throbbed. She looked down to see what it was that was making them throb to see that she was standing on a pile of rocks outside somewhere, no shoes on. She took a step forward, the rocks digging into the tender flesh of her feet.

She took another step.

It was agony.

Why did it hurt so badly?

Where was she exactly? She didn’t remember leaving Dexter’s apartment. Actually she knew she hadn’t left Dexter’s apartment, so how did she get there? Wherever there was.

She looked up from her feet to see people. Not just any people but detectives, forensic scientists, cops. There was yellow tape, flashing lights.

It couldn’t really be? Her killing ground?

She looked beyond the vehicles and people, her shoddy killing house appearing out of a mist. It looked more decrepit then it normally did. The right side seemed to droop almost like it were about to fall off the house altogether. The roof was more of a brownish red instead of a red like she remembered it being.

Elizabeth took another step toward the house. It practically doubled in size. She looked up and around her, the house’s walls bending outward as she breathed in. She released the breath and the walls returned to normal. She repeated the action watching as the house mimicked her. It should have been more strange to her but she was sure that houses did things like that. It made sense didn’t it?

She took ascended the steps, her throbbing feet protesting each step until she was in the house. It was like her feet didn’t want her to enter but once they were inside they had lost so they complied with her will.

Although, now she wanted to leave. The house denied her exit, the door not budging forcing Elizabeth to turn and face the horror within.

The walls bled.

The screams reverberated through the walls making the house sound like it was groaning.

And there, lined up down an endless corridor were her victims. Each strapped and wriggling to get free of the metal slab she had executed them on. Each one laughing hysterically instead of screaming in pain.

She took a step toward them. The first one trying to look up to her.

“You shouldn’t have killed us,” the man said in the many voices of her victims.

She opened her mouth to refute the comment but all that came out were garbled letters that she couldn’t read.

“You shouldn’t have killed us,” the voices repeated starting a taunting chant.

Elizabeth grabbed at her short hair tugging at it to feel the pain of it but nothing happened. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. She leaned against the closest moaning wall sinking to her butt, her eyes closed as she tried to pull herself together. Tried to think of what she could do to the already dead.

When she opened her eyes again she was downstairs in her kill room. Looking around the room she saw Dexter, a dark smile of excitement on his face as he reached out to her. She took his hand allowing him to pull her to her feet, across the room to a small corner. The corner was ordinary, sterile. Just as she left it but he brought out a cotton swab, swabbing the corner returning with a q-tip of blood.

She looked from the bloodied q-tip back to the corner and the wall had began to bleed. Her eyes widened as she looked up to the gleeful smiling Dexter.

She attempted to scream again but still there was nothing that came out.

The blood began to fill the room, a small puddle growing quickly to a wading depth. Shortly it was up to Elizabeth’s neck. Dexter still stood a few feet away, his ever prominent wicked smile on his face as he held the incriminating evidence up for her to see.

The blood rose, covering her face.

Elizabeth tried to swim but her feet seemed fused to the floor.

The darkness began to settle around her.

Where was she again?

How did she get there?

Liz/Dexter Fic Part 9: Broken Mirror

Elizabeth teetered as she looked up at Dexter. She was trying to read what he was going to say before he said it. She hadn’t exactly told him something that you could process in seconds, like “I’m pregnant.” No, this little tidbit of information was more along the lines of “Daddy, I’m gay.” Although that didn’t nearly have the consequences of what she had just told him.

“Dexter?”

It took a moment but his name seemed to bring him down to earth and he stared at her for a moment before he made his move. It was not one she had anticipated although she probably should have.

Or maybe not.

He crushed her against the door, lifting her, as he did in her dream, with his knee between her legs and held her there with his forearm. Breathing. Staring.

Was he trying to gauge her sincerity? Her threat level?

“What makes you think that I’m anything like you?” he growled at her.

She couldn’t sit here and let him crush her, she didn’t have the strength to fight back but she didn’t have the willpower to quell the raging beast within her any longer.

Elizabeth did what the monster asked of her, succumbing to it’s rage, it’s itch.

First was the knee to the groin, he didn’t have time to shift to avoid the impact with one of his knees supporting her. He dropped her and moved back, his body bent in half from the pain.

She quickly put her hands up and punched him, his head tilting back and breaking the mirror. She quickly wrapped her hand around the back of his neck bringing his face into her knee. He was conscious again bringing his hand between his face and her knee, softening the impact for him.

Dexter put his shoulder into her gut and pushed her backwards breaking the glass of his shower box but having her against a wall. Elizabeth cried out, the pain coursing through her body as she felt her insides churn. She brought her elbows down on the back of his neck. Once. Twice. Three times before he took a step back and took a swing at her. She ducked almost fast enough, he caught her hair against the tile. She moved a foot and stepped on a piece of glass, then another, the pieces slicing into her feet. He quickly latched his fingers into her hair and pulled her around to hit her head into the wall.

Elizabeth’s ears began to ring as he did a second and third time. One or two more times and she’d be dead. The Monster cried mercy, she cried out stop but it was barely more then a whimper. She had to get his attention by either getting the upper hand or… well death was the other option.

Elizabeth, barely able to think put her palms against the wall and pushed. She gave herself enough room to push off the wall with her feet toppling the surprised Dexter onto the ground beneath her. She scrambled to straddle him, her hands wrapping around his neck. She lifted his head and gave him the same punishment he had just given her. One. Two. Three. She pounded his head onto the tile surface of the bathroom floor, then she stopped, her fingers still wrapped idly around his neck. No pressure although she could attempt to strangle him, it probably wouldn’t be effective and she’d probably just make him pass out.

Dexter grunted and toppled her weight with a move of his hips and he was easily atop of her with his hands on her neck.

Elizabeth looked up at him. He down to her. They were a broken mirror staring back at one another. Not exactly an identical copy but alike just the same. They both had blood on their hands.

“I don’t want to kill you Dexter,” she croaked, barely audible.

“That’s not what it seemed like when you hit my head head against the ground,” he growled at her.

“Payback for the forehead,” he smirked at the thought. Only they would have thought that amusing.

“I don’t want to kill you either.”

“Then why don’t you get off of me and lets go talk.”

It took a few more minutes of staring before either of them let up enough to let the other one relax. When their fingers slowly uncurled from each others necks they helped one another up.

Elizabeth took in a sharp breath as she came to her feet. “I can’t seem to stop spilling my own blood it seems,” she said sarcastically, leaning her weight on the unsteady Dexter.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” she said to him as she limped into the bedroom with him. She plopped onto the bed as he sat down next to him.

“Let me see your feet.”

Elizabeth twisted, pulling her feet onto his lap so that he could inspect them. He pulled at her toes but he didn’t touch the wounds. It was nice to see someone else that knew how to take care of a cut like she did. She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry about that. I couldn’t help myself.”

She heard his breath but couldn’t tell if it was amused or disbelieving. “Seriously, how could you tell that I was like you?” he asked again placing her feet onto his lap.

“I don’t know,” she said giving a shrug. “It’s like recognizing another predator. Your hair stands on end, you can see their teeth and you the glint in their eyes and then its gone. You didn’t see it in me?”

“You’re obviously better at hiding it.”

Elizabeth opened her eyes and looked at him. “Really? I was going to tell you the same thing. Maybe I just saw it first. I had just sated my need a few nights before. The darkness was sated. Now I can’t even keep myself from attacking the nicest man I know,” she said with a sigh.

“You were just protecting yourself. I would have done the same thing.”

“I guess… I think it’s more then that though.”

“Like what?”

“I haven’t had a victim in about a month and my blood itches for it.”

“Well then why don’t you?”

“I can’t,” she watched as his face furrowed in confusion. “I’m worried right now that our little excursion in there didn’t already pull a few stitches out let alone dragging a dead body around and those are minimum requirements,” she finished, looking to the ground beside the bed.

Dexter grunted an acknowledgment.

Silence fell upon the pair. She had a feeling that he knew, without words, what she wanted. It was more then a want, she was sure he understood that but it was a boundary that neither of them had crossed before. Trusting another person with a secret as sensitive as this.

“Dexter?”

A phone rang and he shoved his hand in his pocket. He looked at it. “It’s work,” he said pointing at it. “Morgan. Alright, I’ll be right there.”

“Talk about this later then?”

“We’ll have to. Dead body found out in the Southern Glades about.”

“Ten miles north of Ingraham Highway,” she said with him her fists clenching into the palms of her hands.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

Elizabeth released a breath of forced amusement. “That’s my killing ground.”

Dexter stared at her for a moment before gently removing her feet from his lap.

“Stay here, I’ll be back in a few hours and we can talk. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Hopefully not more bodies,” she said standing up on her hurt feet, a shard of glass still within digging deeply into her cut. “Dexter,” she looked up to him, “thank you,” she told him, standing on her toes, wrapping a hand around his neck and pulling him down into another of those messy kisses which he returned in kind.

“I’ll be back,” he informed her.

“Dexter?”

He turned to her a second time.

“Don’t forget to clean up before you go,” he looked down at his bloodied hands and breathed in amusement.

“Thanks,” he disappeared out of the door and he was gone. This was not good for her. What had she forgotten? How did someone find a body out there? What evidence did she leave in her graveyard? She was going to jail wasn’t she?

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/Dexter Fic Part 7

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.

Morgan.

Piper.

Batista.

Detective.

Death.

Torture.

Knives.

Killing.

Investigation.

Blood.

Dexter.

Blood.

Dexter.

Dexter.

Dexter.

Dexter.

“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.

“Hey you.”

“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.

Now what?

“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?”

“Tomorrow works. Around noon?”

“Only if you promise to bring me something not hospital food.”

“Alright, it’s a date then.”

“Thanks.”

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.

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.