• Disclaimer: I own none of the Dexter characters.

    The craziness of life itself is something that people actually like. Why? I have no idea. The emotions and feelings that humans feel make it this un-ending rollercoaster ride. Why do they want to ride this rollercoaster? For the thrill of it all? To just plainly lose their lunch at the end of the ride? Why? I wouldn’t know. Why wouldn’t I know you ask? Because I’m not human. At least, I don’t think I am. I don’t feel like everyone else does. That’s the thing. I don’t feel. Why don’t I feel? Or the more important question do I even want to feel? Do I want to be part of this rollercoaster that everyone else is on? Do I want to be able to feel the emotions that everyone else feels? Is it something I even need?

    I don’t know. I’ve lived for thirty years in this world. I remember it all. My foster father, Harry, took me in at the age of three. He got me from a crime scene. Harry was an amazing cop. Knew everything. At least…about me. He taught me to be what I am. I’ve had this urge, call it a Need if you will, to kill. Anything or anyone. Harry, has helped me channel my Need. He has given me a Code. I call it the Harry Code. He taught me rules that mist be followed if I wanted to keep feeding my Need. To be normal, precise, and clean up after the job is done. The most important rule, though, is to kill only people who deserve it. The Harry Code has helped me with my life. I would have trusted it with all my heart…if I had one that is. This Code is my life. Simple to follow, no mistakes.

    At least until…someone tried to corrupt it. My long lost bio-logical brother. You really can’t call him long lost if I had never even known about him in the first place. Brian Moser. “Biney” I used to call him. He found me. After all of those years. He sought me. He knew of my existence while my whole life I have lived only acknowledging three people as my family. “Biney” kidnapped my foster sister Debra. Tried to kill her. He tried my make me kill her. Convincing me that Harry had lied to me. That Harry had lied about a lot of things. He made me remember. The series of murders he committed each held some sort of clue, or key if you’d prefer, to my past. I was supposed to figure it all out. I did. I figured out everything. How my bio-logical mother died.

    I remembered everything. Somehow he was able to reach me. Get me to remember the two days we had spent in the storage container. Surrounded by corpses and sitting in at least two inches of blood. My mother’s head looking at me with large, unblinking eyes. I remembered it all. Remembered how Brian always looked after me. How he always took care of me. He even got me to remember the time I fell off his skateboard and he took care of me. He helped me remember everything.

    Not only that. He accepted me. He knew what I was. Why? Because he was one too. He was a monster with a Need to kill. His Need was never channeled though. He was never adopted like I was. He never had anyone like Harry. No one to help him out of the dark. To shed some light for him in his dark little corner of the world. No one at all.

    Now I live in regret. I killed him. I protected my fake sister, who would hate me for being a vigilante, from my monster brother who accepted me for who I was. Probably the only person, other than Harry, who would have ever accepted me for who I was. And I killed him. To protect Debra. Good trade off huh? I guess not.

    I want people to know me. To know who I am. I’ve been tempted to reveal myself many times before. Why haven’t I? Because I wouldn’t be able to ever fulfill my Need ever again. No more hunting for me.

    And who am I exactly? Dexter. Dexter Morgan. Daring Delusional Dexter. What do I do for a living? I work for the Miami police in forensics. Blood Spatter. Weird isn’t it considering I despise the stuff. Where am I right now? At the very moment? In a crime scene, at a house. Horrible crime scene. Blood everywhere. The walls, the floor, the furniture. Body parts scattered around. A hand here a foot there, an eyeball on the bed and a young boy…alive. The boy? We don’t know who he is. He’s maybe five or four years old? In shock definitely. He’s in the arms of a man in his thirties. Me to be exact. Dear Dexter taking care of a young boy. How? I don’t know. He was just handed over to me. I walked over to the paramedics. Tried to pry his small bloody hands off my bowling shirt. It didn’t work He was holding on tight.

    “Would you please just ride with him?” one of the medics asked.

    “I—uh…”

    “Oh go on Dexter!” my pushy sister, Debra, said. She pushed me in the ambulance.

    “But Debs—”

    “No buts Dex, just ride with him. He seems attached to you.” With that she closed the doors. The boy remind you of anyone?

    Link to the real website on where it's at --> http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5237785/1/The_Need