Title: Dark Disturbing Dexter Fic
Author: Vickibmore
Fandom: Dexter
Rating: PG-13 (warning for violence)
Summary: Dexter has a little"me time"
Disclaimer: The character Dexter belong to Showtime and Jeff Lindsay. The story is mine.
Author's Note: This is the first thing I've written in years and usually I just wrote porn. But I'm pissed at my boss because she fucked up my check. Therefore I refuse to do any real work today. I planned to sit at my desk and surf the web all day, but my job has taken the sound cards out the computers and blocked out Youtube and MSN games. So I decided I would write something instead. Anyway I stole this challenge idea from arcee8 on livejournal who says she stole it from mercuryisme.
1. Take five books off your bookshelf.
2. Book #1 -- first sentence
3. Book #2 -- last sentence on page fifty
4. Book #3 -- second sentence on page one hundred
5. Book #4 -- next to the last sentence on page one hundred fifty
6. Book #5 -- final sentence of the book
7. Make the five sentences into a short ficlet:
I read somewhere that the dead have highways. People who have been revived from the death often claimed to see as a dark tunnel leading to a bright light. They report a sense of serenity and peace. My dark passenger and I had sent many on their last journey. Only I doubt their final destination was a place filled with singing angels and fluffy white clouds. Or at least not if you believed in an afterlife.
If there was a heaven I doubt they would let me in. They say God forgives but after killing at least 50 of his children you would have to think that a smart god's forgiveness of me would begin to run a little thin. Maybe I could make a case for myself by pointing out that everyone whose throat I slit, body I've dismembered and whose corpse I've thrown in the ocean, really really really deserved it. But somehow I doubt that would work. The thought is enough to make a god fearing person redeem his evil sinning ways. Luckily for the dark passenger and I, we lack the faith necessary to be afraid. Besides I had made my own little piece of heaven right here in Miami, and only one thing was missing to make it complete.
Ronald Thornton walked quickly through the parking garage looking for his car. He was wearing brown corduroy pants, a black leather jacket and he needed a shave. He had a smirk on his pasty white face and a swagger in his balding, over weight, middle aged step. He thought he was off again to a weekend of nefarious atrocities with the young boys. However when I stepped up behind him and plunged the syringe into his neck he was quickly disabused.
It began with a series of child abductions. Eleven children, five boys and six girls, simply disappeared from Druid Hill park. The department thought the cases were unrelated simply due to the lack of a discernible pattern. Most monsters prefer to follow a blueprint. They choose victims that look a like or they violate them in a particular way or dump the bodies in a particular spot. But not this monster.
The children were of both sexes, varying ethnic groups and ranged in ages from 4-13. They case may have even continued to slip my sharp and hungry eye if it wasn't for the bodies. Out of eleven missing children, six bodies were eventually recovered. All of the bodies were female. All six girls were tied up with rope and beaten, three were burned with cigarettes and strangled, two had their skulls crushed in with a bat and one appeared to have been skinned alive. They were all raped and sodomized, all dead and finally all found in vacant lots on the west side of the park. In addition two of the victims were last seen leaving with kids from a local group home. It was the Boys Village Group Home, located two blocks west of Druid Hill Park and right in the center of where the girls bodies were found. A group home that was owned and run by one Mr. Ronald Thornton.
The department had dismissed the clues as coincidental. But my dark passenger and I knew otherwise. I could tell by the gleeful chuckle of my dark passenger that Ronald was going to be my next playmate, but Harry's code required more than just circumstantial proof. But unlike the cops I recognize the pattern in the randomness. It only took one week of surveillance before my inner monster and I came to an agreement. Ronald needed to die and we needed to be the one to kill him. The state believed his home to be a safe haven for troubled youth, but by placing children in his care they delivered them to a brief, pain filled, thankfully brief lifetime of hell. The desire to end Ronald was like a physical pain to me, but finally, with him drugged and bound and ready to play, the pain had already begun to subside.
Ronald was the worst type of monster. Not content with mere murder, Ronald was a sadist who made children believe his abuse was their own fault and his sexual depravity an example of his love. Ronald transmuted victims into fellow monsters. He then used these kids to find new, younger, more disposable victims that he and his prodigy could practice their most heinous violations upon. He almost would have gotten away with it, if only his offspring weren't so prolific.
Ronald moaned as the drugs began to wear off and consciousness began to return. When he opened his eyes I was there standing above him with my scalpel and trusty slide. "Do you know why you are here?" I asked. Ronald simply sat there, staring at me like a deer caught in the headlight. Then he began to cry. "Please! Let me go. You've got the wrong man," he sobbed. "Oh, I'm sorry." I reply, "I must have you gotten you confused with some other sadistic pedophile." Then I point to the pictures of destroyed innocence that Ron was responsible for and he knew that he was caught.
Thats when he started off by begging for mercy, mercy he never gave his victims, the mercy he wouldn't receive from me. "Please I have a sickness. But I'll get help and I'll never do it again." I laughed as I duck tape his mouth shut. I didn't need to hear it again. 'I'm sick' was becoming the new serial killer catch phrase. I show him my butchers knife. "Yeah, your sick, but let's be honest. Even if you do get help, you won't stop. I know. I'm sick too," I explain. "But not quite like you because while I enjoy the pain and death of others I never harm the innocent. I save my sickness for people who deserve it, people like you." As I sliced into his cheek and made another slide for my collection, the act greatly soothed the monster inside me. Normally I try to use a local anesthesia to make my victims suffering a brief as possible. But Ronald really needed to experience the pain he caused others and I was just the one to give him that experience.
Watching Ronald cry silently I realized he was taking things surprisingly well for someone about to die. I think I owed it to the both of us to shake things up a bit. When I sliced his cheek he barely flinched, but when I trailed my scalpel down to his weapon of choice he began to thrash and buck wildly. Apparently he could die with dignity but only if his penis was still attached. Unfortunately the dark passenger and I decided that would not happen.
The sounds he made as I castrated him was reminiscent of the yowls of a cat that being boiled alive. Mind you I had no first hand knowledge of this. I'm not quite that sick, but I do so love those faces of death shock videos.I was having a blast. His cock was removed and I was working on the left testicle but Ronald was determined to ruin my fun. He was starting to go into shock from the blood loss. So in order to keep him conscious a little longer I gently slapped him in the face with his own amputated penis. When his eyes opened and zeroed in on his own manhood by his gagged lips he started screaming louder then he did when I cut it off. Then he had the audacity to pass out. It was sadly disappointing. So since he wasn't willing to continue playing I stabbed him in the heart and then watched the life quickly bleed out of him.
Next scheduled was one quick vivisection, followed by a final boat ride and then Ronald was coasting the gulf stream express to his final destination. While I turned my boat around and followed the moon home to bed.
Books Used
1. The Books of Blood by Clive Barker
2. Midnight Meat Train by Clive Barker
3. Brother Odd by Dean Koontz
4. The Girl of My Dreams by Donald Westlake
5. Darkly Dreaming Dexter by Jeff Lindsay