Chapter Text
Blood.
Oh why must it always be blood?
Dexter only realized what he was doing once the two other guards in the room grabbed him and slammed him against the wall. Which now painted a nice shade of red. Now that Dexter is thinking about it, he should let Rita know that the walls might look better this color.
But Rita isn't here, she's at home. And Dexter wasn't leaving this facility anytime soon. Because Dexter stabbed the guard. And he didn't fit the code- nothing about this followed the code. The mess, the witnesses, the fact everybody already knew he was a serial killer. Rule number one, don't get caught. But here he was, his nice white clothing and grey sweatpants painted red. Red with an innocent man's blood. Dexter could almost hear Brian's words in his ears, how that stupid code was limiting him. But that's not true, the code is him. It's what separates him from who he gains pleasure from. Who's life, fleeting, fills him.
They were screaming. Didn't he usually gag his victims?
The man is still moving, which surprises Dexter, he can vaguely remember he was aiming for the heart. Actually, now that Dexter isn't so wrapped up in his thoughts, he realized how much of a sloppy job he did. The guard was gripping his chest tightly, his tense, spasming muscles gripping the cloth around the wound. The wound, being a painting white, metal pole-like object that was yanked from where it originally was. Was pushed through the man's abdomen and exited through his upper back. The punching bag was now on the floor, the metal piece was hanging from gone. Or well- more so relocated. If Dexter could, he thinks he would chuckle at that internal joke. He felt the guard who wasn't trying to keep their friend awake put handcuffs on him. Sirens began to play in the building as Dexter could almost hear the guard screaming something at him.
After a few moments a couple other guards swarmed into the room, guns aimed at him as a gurney was pushed into the room. Medics pulled the man Dexter had stabbed onto the gurney and quickly pushed him out the room. Lundy burst in right after, his eyes wide and wild, immediately looking at Dexter, he grit his teeth before raising his hand in a sort of halting gesture, which made the guards look at him, some lowering their guns but others hesitating.
“Lower your guns. Dexter-” Lundy started but stopped, his jaw clenching in a way that made it look like he was physically chewing on his words. He shut his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a sigh. Looking back up at Dexter with wide, sad eyes. Dexter briefly thought he looked like a kicked puppy, but Dexter couldn't be sure as he had never kicked a puppy, only killed them- and that was when he was a child. Lundy looked at Dexter like he wanted him to say something, and it took Dexter embarrassingly long to realize that it was most likely an explanation he sought. “He blew his whistle in my ear.” Dexter replied in a monotone, he vaguely knew that he sounded a bit alien by his own standards, but he didn't care.
Lundy paused at that. His expression changed from surprised, to disgusted, to a steel wall of nothing. He let out a breath, not a sigh, just a breath, and turned on his heel. He began walking out of the room. “Escort him to solitary.” He said before shutting the door behind him. The guards immediately looked at Dexter before grabbing him roughly and bringing him down a whole new arrangement of halls. Dexter out of sheer habit fought against the guards, simply pulling himself from their grasps which led to him getting shoved against a wall. He couldn't think straight after that and felt like he saw stars.
When will he be free from the Dark Passenger?
Eventually he was brought to a white, small, room
before he was being harshly thrown into it. The door was the same as his regular room door, white with a small window in the middle. Except this door had a little flap at the bottom of it, similar to that of a doggy door. Except it was only about an inch tall. Dexter stood up quickly and banged his fists against the door. Over, and over, and over again. He wanted out. He can't stand it. He could feel something akin to ants crawling beneath his skin, and the only way to get them out was to let the bright red of arteries free. He saw his knuckles red from his barrage of punching, already damaged from his earlier damage they started to bleed. Something in him churned at the sight, and he stood a wobbly step back. He fell to the floor, and dragged himself to the furthest wall from the door. Which wasn't very far because of the size of the room.
He heard him before he saw him. “You messed up, again.” Harry’s voice chimed in his head, echoing against the walls repeating over and over until it faded. Dexter turned to look at him, hoping his glare would get the hallucination to leave. “I was having a bad day, that's all.” Dexter said softly. “I've seen you have bad days before. You've never ended up killing someone because of it.” Harry chimed in almost immediately. Taking a step towards the boy, his presence made Dexter's skin crawl. A truly unpleasant sensation combined with the burning of his Dark Passenger. Growls reverberating against his lobe.
“Admit it, Dex. This place is getting to you, and I think you know that.” Harry said, getting down on his son's level. Whispering in his left ear, yet for some unholy reason he heard it with just as much clarity in both ears. His whisper almost like it was said through a microphone, speakers pressed against both sides of his head.
“You're scared that the one thing you know is you, might not be.” Harry said again, now speaking properly as he walked to the front of his son. Standing and staring at him from above his hunched state. “What could I possibly do if I am?..” Dexter responded after a too long pause. His eyes downcast before looking back up at his father, defiance leaving his body as the grating feeling of need pulsated throughout his body.
Harry crouched down, looking at his son with sympathy, and an emotion Dexter never had seen on his face. He responded like it was the most simple thing in the world.
“Be brave.”