I'm Dexter and I'm not sure what I am…I just know there's something dark in me, and I hide it. I certainly don't talk about it but its there. Always. This dark passenger. And when he's driving, I feel alive—half sick with the thrill…complete wrongness. I don't fight him. I don't want to. He's all I've got. Nothing else could love me. Not even, especially not me. Or is that just a lie the dark passenger tells me? Because lately, there are these moments where I feel connected to something else, someone. It's like the mask is slipping and things, people that never mattered before…are starting to matter. It scares the hell out of me.
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