InsaneJournal

There was a moment when nothing happened. Eyes flew wide open, staring up into Dexter's face as if surprised, a final breath catching in the throat. Then it was over, the air escaping in a rush, the tensed body slumping down into the table. Crimson leaking from the wound and through the cellophane wrap. Quiet. Perfect.

A rush of sudden calm flowed through Dexter, and he sighed heavily, his head rolling back on his broad shoulders and his eyes fluttering closed as endorphins flooded his system. He never felt better than this, than the simple moment straight after the knife went in. Dexter took his moment to enjoy it, suddenly alone in the room decorated with plastic sheeting. No human mask, no pretending. Just Dexter. Raw and exposed and himself in all his twisted, horrific truth.

He relaxed, the strong muscles in his chest and shoulders loosening as he glanced back down at the empty shell stretched before him, leaking crimson liquid slowly onto the table. Flesh warm but rapidly cooling. No pulse, no movement. Hollow and simple and neat. Apart from all that blood. Dexter turned away, moving to the tray where his tools were arranged neatly, wiping the blood from the steel blade he had pulled from the man's left carotid artery and placing it carefully back in its place. He was just slipping his visor over his face and reaching for his bone saw when he became aware of another presence in the room.

Dexter froze, more out of habit than anything, before releasing a breath that steamed up his visor and turning to look across at Tessa. There was a moment when no'one spoke, the only sound the drip, drip of liquid onto the floor, and then the man lifted the visor masking his face. "I think you're getting here quicker, you know."