Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
37 minutes.
To dismember a human body, wrap each individual piece in plastic, separate them into their respective trash bag, clean my entire workspace, store my tools, then stuff the entire thing in the former coffin of Professor James Gellar.
A new record. As they say, it's all about the motivation. The work had been sloppy however, and I might have made a mistake, so it's convenient that Travis's blood, along with my own prints, were already in the room legitimately. As long as no one decides to open the freezer in the next 24 hours, this was one problem I could cross of the list.
I now stand in the middle of the blissfully blood-free church clad in fresh clothes. Back in my usual pastel colours, and with Travis tucked away for the time being, I feel cleaner, lighter. The process of downsizing my victims was an important one, both as a part of the code that kept me safe, but also because I found it cleansing (ironically enough); the repetitive and familiar movements always soothed me, despite being drenched in the ever invasive blood. That process usually ended in quiet contemplation on my boat, in those rare nights my mind was free from the hunger. Not tonight though.
I scan the decrepit place of worship one last time and find nothing amiss, I mentally review the code and the innumerable checklist that Harry made me memorize as a child, but nothing stands out. I'm satisfied. I check my watch, I only have 17 minutes left before my sister's somewhat arbitrary deadline runs out, but I know the traffic in Miami intimately and I'm positive I can make it.
Huh. I might just get out of this unscathed, all I had left to do was convince a career cop with trust issues that serial-killing is a perfectly acceptable lifestyle choice. No problem.
And yet, despite the absurdity of that statement I find myself wondering. What if I could convince her somehow? What if this could all actually turn out okay?
« It can never be okay son, your sister will never accept what you are »
Startled, I turn around, and there he is, as if he'd been standing there all night (and in a very real way, he has), Harry.
Father. Liar. Teacher. Cheat. Unshakable. Pathetic. God. Devil.
« About time you showed up, after the fact, as usual »
« I'm here now son, like always »
« Yes you are, so…any fatherly words of wisdom on this one? Because I'm open to advice »
« Yes, run »
« What? »
« You heard me, you need to leave town, tonight »
« I'm not going to do that dad, you of all people should know that I would never abandon Harrison, so why would you say that? »
« You broke your promise Dex, you promised me that your sister would never find out what you are »
At this, my abnormal brain circuitry supplies fires up a few errant neurons and dredges up a twenty year old memory, as appearances of my dead foster-father were wont to do.
« Dexter, as you'll get older, you'll have the impulse to tell your secret to someone eventually »
« Relax Dad, I know the code, you don't have to keep bringing it up. Besides, who am I gonna tell? »
« No, it's okay Dexter, I hope that maybe someday you will be able to connect with somebody, maybe even trust them »
« I trust you Dad »
« I know son, I know. But my point is, that the day may come when you may want or be forced to reveal your secrets to someone, remember that the code won't prepare you for everything »
« Okay… so what? »
« You must promise me that your sister will never be that person »
« Deb? Why would I want Deb, of all people, to know what I am? This is ridiculous dad… »
« You must promise me son! Promise me that you will never tell your sister about any of this. She can never know. You hear me? Never! »
« Dad, let go! I promise okay? I promise! »
« Good, good, you must remember this promise Dexter. »
« I will »
I remember now. Still.
« Well it's not like I had much of choice dad, this wasn't exactly the way I had planned this evening »
I look accusingly at him. He is unfazed, as always. Yet, his expression seems slightly different than what I usually see for some reason, I can't quite put my finger on it.
« You have a choice now, you can leave, disappear, restart somewhere new, without all that's weighing you down here. »
« And I should do that because of a barely understood adolescent promise to my dead foster-father? I think I'll pass. I'm going to keep my promise to Deb, not to you. I am going to tell her everything (well, mostly everything) about me, and about you »
Feeling satisfied that I've won this argument against myself, I push Harry out of my mind and gather up my tools, give the old church a final glance, then sweep out of the room. I'm late.
I've only been in my car for five minutes, when Harry reappears. I can see him sitting silently on the passenger side, while the darkened sights of Miami flash by beside us. His face is aglow with moonlight, I can feel it on mine.
« The reason you can never tell your sister the truth is not to preserve my memory, or protect your life, son. »
« Then why? If I don't tell her anything, she'll just report me, or investigate on her own, you know that. This way at least there's a chance… »
« A chance to what Dexter? Have you thought about it? What if she does believe everything you tell her, and ultimately decides to protect you? »
« Then I'm safe…ish . Look I'm well aware of how precarious my position is here, we both know how unpredictable Deb can be… »
« You're missing the point. Have you considered what this knowledge is going to actually do to her? What she will be like after keeping your secret for a week, a month, a year? »
I slap my hand against the steering wheel, and whirl to face him as we're at a Stop sign.
« Of course I've considered it! But I simply don't have any other options. Besides, Deb is strong, she might well surprise you »
« You're not letting yourself hear the answer because you don't want to hear it son. Debra can never agree to keep your secret, because the minute she does, she'll have given up everything she believes in, and she simply won't be Debra anymore. »
« That's rather simplistic and overly dramatic »
« No it isn't. Ritualized mass murder? How can you expect a normal and rational human being to ever condone it? »
« Lumen could »
« You've never met Lumen Pierce, Dexter, at least not as her family, friends and fiancé knew her. The person you met may have had her face and name, but everything else had been ripped away from her. Do you wish Deb to endure the same kind of transformation as she did? It's the only way anyone can… »
« NO! You're right I don't want to hear it, so shut up! »
Miguel
Doakes
Lila
Harry
Rita
The faces of those few who learnt my secret flashed behind my eyes, along with their fates.
Miguel, wrapped in plastic like all the others, his face frozen in hate and deceit.
Doakes, from my angry, powerful nemesis, to a formless, putrefied, burnt slab of meat, surrounded by flies in a swamp.
Lila, her eyes still intense, insane, adoring, even as I took her life, after taking her sanity.
Harry, the mentor and father I once thought invincible and omniscient, ravaged by disease and (what I now see, in hindsight) soul crushing regret.
Rita, her sweet, sweet face unmarred, laying gently as if asleep, while her body was cold, and bathed in red.
I shook my head, as if to clear imaginary cobwebs.
Lumen. She had been my salvation. I hadn't destroyed her, I had saved her, my Dark Passenger transformed into a redemptive force of righteous vengeance.
« You didn't save Lumen son, she had already been destroyed. The only thing you did was give that darkness a purpose and structure, like I tried to do for you… »
My hands are gripped tightly on the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white, I turn right on Almoredo, I'm close to the apartment, six minutes left on the clock.
« But remember, once it had left her, once she had conquered it, then she couldn't be around you anymore, not after she had seen you for what you are. »
My breathing is getting heavier, a light sheen of sweat has appeared on my forehead, I recognize the street adjoining my apartment, I'm nearly there, five minutes left on the clock.
« It's human nature son, you know that. We shy away from predators, and the only way a lamb can stand in front of a lion without fear, is to become one herself. You've seen it. Is that what you want for her? You are about to destroy your sister, one way or the other… »
« ENOUGH! »
I stop the car.
I glance to my right, Harry is gazing at me with intense eyes. I glance to my left, I can see Debra's car parked in front of my apartment. Three minutes left on the clock.
Decisions, decisions.
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That's it for chapter 4.
I know it's a small one but it felt right, as is.
Next chapter begins the long awaited confrontation, or does it?
I'm getting inspired for this story so more coming soon, as long I'm properly spurred on by your many reviews.
PS: Oh, and about the «», I think it might be because of the fact that my word processor is in French, I'll see what I can do.