"Oh God . . ." Dexter muttered.
I looked down at his hands that were clutched around the knife planted in Travis Marshal's chest. I felt the bile rise. Hold on, Deb; don't fucking loose yourself now . . . I told myself. Yet, it still kept making its way up my throat. Dex's eyes were somewhere between shell-shocked and horrified. He still gripped the knife.
I swallowed.
"Dexter?" My voice sounded unfamiliar and foreign. What was this? Why was this happening? He just starred at me. Suddenly, his hands flew away from the knife as if it were as hot as fuck.
"Deb." He choked. I starred at him for what seemed like an eternity until I finally tore my eyes away from his face to look down at the bleeding body beside him. The blood seemed to be caught in the plastic wrapped around Travis' body. It slowly trickled down his sides to pool underneath him.
"Dex, w-what is th-this?" My voice trembled uncontrollably. My knees shook more than they did on the way down there to tell Dex my fucking feelings. Well, that was pretty fucking moot, now, wasn't it?
He didn't answer me. I looked up from Travis so my eyes could meet Dexter's.
"Dexter, what the fuck is this?"
"Debra, I can explain . . ."
"Oh, really?" The hysteria in my voice was apparent, "Then I would love for you to fucking start!"
"Deb, I . . . I-I can't . . . explain . . . I'm sorry."
"Why?" I yelled.
"You don't want to know . . ."
"Um, I'm pretty fucking sure I do, Dex!" More hysteria.
"I'm sorry." He repeated. He brought his gloved hands to his face.
The bile won.
I turned away from him as the vomit hit the church floor. I wondered if God would mind me puking in one of his sacred temples. Probably not; considering all of the things that had happened in it already, that was just a mere slight rudeness that would soon be forgotten. Yeah, compared to what was happening right then involving my brother, that was nothing.
"Debra?" Dexter's voice was closer than before. I lifted my head to see him standing five feet away from me with his arms extended as if he was going to catch me if I fell.
"Don't come near me." I warned. Though, I sounded weak and vulnerable: two popular feelings for me now-a-days.
"Deb, please . . . don't hate me."
"I don't . . . hate you, Dexter. I don't know what to think right now. Give me a minute."
"Okay." He backed away slightly.
I pulled my self out of my hunched position and moved away from the vomit. I lowered myself to the floor and let my legs fall out from under me. Dexter took a seat in a nearby chair after bringing to where he formerly stood.
"Debra, are you okay?" He asked softly.
"I don't know, Dexter!" I shouted at him.
"Sorry."
"I just don't understand this." I gestured to Travis' body.
"He was a bad man . . ." He sounded as if he was talking to a small child. I recognized the tone he used with Harrison.
"OBVIOUSLY!" I screamed, "WHAT DO YOU THINK I'VE BEEN TRYING TO DO FOR THESE LAST COUPLE OF WEEKS? ASK HIM ON A DATE?"
"Calm down, Deb."
"CALM DOWN?" I laughed humorlessly, "YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN?"
"Yes . . .?"
I looked down at my hands. They were blurry.
"Deb, please don't cry . . ."
"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!"
He became very silent. I thought I had it all figured out. I thought Dex would finaly be the one normal man I fell in love with. Well, I was fucking wrong. After a few moments of silence – beside my occasional hysterical hiccups and sobs – I wiped my eyes and sniffled. I looked up at Dexter. His eyes held mine. I brought myself to my feet and dusted myself off; my eyes never leaving his.
"Well," I said weakly, "how are we going to get rid of this body?"