Blood; sometimes it sets his teeth on edge. Other times it helps him control the chaos. Because inside Dexter Morgan lurks a hunger for destruction-- for the cold steel of his knives and the lush rip they make against human flesh, for body parts tightly wrapped in saran wrap, lowered into the Gulf in hefty bags never to be seen again. Say what you like; he's a very neat monster. Having no human feelings can help the process too-- our dear demented serial killer remains empty inside, save for the code of his foster father and the skills needed for his survival. And when the moon is full and hanging plump in the Miami night, the Dark Passenger lies in wait, its deep chuckles rumbling through the mind of our darkly dreaming Dexter, hoping to slake its thirst for blood.



Here @ timeisfiction.