(Source: hellowelcometomahpage)
I just know there’s something dark in me and I hide it. I certainly don’t talk about it, but it’s there always, this Dark Passenger. And when he’s driving, I feel alive, half sick with the thrill of 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 when I feel connected to something else… someone. It’s like the mask is slipping and things… people… who never mattered before are suddenly starting to matter. It scares the hell out of me.
Debra:
I mean, I show up, right, to question her about her brother and 24 hours later... I can't help but feel responsible, you know? I knew there was something that she wasn't telling me.
Dr. Ross:
Do you think she knew that her brother was involved?
Debra:
I think she knew something was up with him and I think she was trying to protect him, which is what a good sister does, and then he ends up killing her. Ah, Jesus. Are all brothers assholes?
Dr. Ross:
Who are we talking about, now?
Debra:
Who else? Dexter.
Walter:
So, what's a young guy like you doing around Coral Island? Or do you get off hanging out with corpses?
*Dexter laughs nervously*
Debra:
I've sat through god knows how many briefings, why am I so fucking nervous?
Dexter:
Because everyone will be looking to see if you know what you're doing.
Debra:
Do me a favor, when you get back to your desk, look up the word "rhetorical".
