Hey brother

'Are you fucking kidding me with this shit? Wake up, fuckface.'

Groggy, Dexter squinted into the darkness and sat up in bed.

'Deb?' he croaked. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, a slender figure emerged on the wall.

'You're goddamn right it's me,' she replied. He reached for the light, but something wacked away his hand. It felt like a sheet, cold and wet. Cowed, Dexter dipped his hand underneath the covers again.

'How did you find me?' he asked, which was the least relevant question in the history of for-fucking-ever. Debra agreed, judging by her amused snort.

'This seems like the kind of stupid ass thing you'd do. Seriously, how the fuck did you not get caught all these years? Moron.'

She sounded exactly like Deb and nothing like her at the same time. How was that possible? How was it possible that she was here, berating him, when he…

'Yeah, let's talk about that,' Debra said. 'Did you ever think that Quinn, you know, the guy who loves me, would maybe have liked to fucking bury me? Guess not, huh? Cause you unplugged me, kidnapped me and threw my body in the fucking ocean all on your fucking lonesome. Thanks for that, by the way, big brother. I'm sure having fun down there with the body parts of all the lowlife scumbags you've dumped. Jesus Christ.'

Blinking, Dexter tried to clear his mind. Debra was obviously not here, because she was dead. She could be a manifestation of his conscience, like Harry had been. A sort of guide, but he didn't need that anymore. He was done killing.

'Funny how that worked out,' Debra whispered.

'What?'

'You're cured from the urge to kill because of twu wuv. Way I see it, if dad had just gotten you a girlfriend a long time ago then we wouldn't have had to put up with your shit. I'd be alive. Your son wouldn't be travelling through Argentina with a remorseless killer. Which brings me to another thing. You left Harrison with Hannah? Fucking Hannah?'

'She loves Harrison.'

'What does that even mean? I love Harrison and sometimes he bugs the hell out of me. Hannah is a killer without a code. What if she realises that a kid cramps her style? What will happen when Harrison becomes an inconvenience? We know how she gets rid of people who are in her way. What the motherfucking fuck are you doing here anyway? Why aren't you with them?'

'I destroy everyone I love,' Dexter answered, forlornly. The apparition of his sister laughed. The grey shape moved slightly.

'Because you were a serial killer. Everyone who died didn't die because inexplicably bad shit happens to people around you. We died, because you were a fucking serial killer who kept messing with other serial killers and it blew up in your face every single time. Except you never paid the price: we did. So, since you just decided that your homicidal tendencies have magically vanished, what's the holdup?'

They were both silent for a while. Finally, Dexter spoke.

'You said you didn't want me to feel guilty,' he pointed out, quietly. The hurt in his voice was unmistakable and the shadow slunk closer, growing in size. If Deb was a figment of his imagination, she wasn't anything like Harry had been.

'I was heavily medicated and, as it turns out, dying. I wouldn't have gotten shot in the first place if you hadn't seen fit to have your crap conversion, so my death is completely on you. I want you to feel guilty, because you are guilty, you whiny little bitch. You don't get to have a bullshit happy ending.'

'I'm not happy,' Dexter objected.

'Good!' Deb snapped, acid coating the harsh word. Dexter watched as the shape on the wall became even taller and darker. Threatening. 'Because, guess what, Dex? Your sad beard doesn't cut it. Remember the monsters? I'm the absence of light now. And I may be a fucking ghost, but I'm gonna be real for you. Every night when you come home to this pathetic cabin tired from chopping down trees and whatever the fuck else it is that lumberjacks do, I will be waiting right here to remind you of what a fucking asshole you are.'

The end.