Pay Attention
I never thought I would say that I'm disappointed with Dexter; he was supposed to be my teacher, my guide through my psychotic urges that refused to go away. But ever since Hannah came, I couldn't stand him. He never even tried to help me, never paid attention to me when that blonde bitch was around.
I hate her: that white blond hair, those perfect green eyes with a model-like body; I could see why Dexter would drop everything and come running to her.
And why a portion of my brain is gone.
I thought I was safe, thought I knew what I was doing until I was killed. And it was Dexter's fault. He should've protected me. He should've put me first and not that bitch that came out of nowhere. He should've paid attention.
For a professional serial killer, he's not that bright. Didn't he notice the details? The subtle clues that scratched beneath the surface? It was so obvious I could've slapped myself for not noticing it sooner. If I, a rookie, could find those clues, why didn't Dexter see them first and stopped the inevitable before it could take root?
Why wasn't he the one driving me to my house instead of fucking that stupid cunt's brains out? He wasn't paying attention; he let his other head guide him and that's why I'm dead.
It's his fault.
And he'll learn it soon enough; he'll learn to pay attention to details more now, or it'll be him having the same fate as I.
It's only a matter of time.