It was agreed to give Dexter a week to find out the truth of the year, but according to my understanding of Sheriff Harry, I did not think that he would actually find out what. This week's appointment is actually just to give me more time to prepare.
Due to the pollution of the sea area, the wharf on the west side was blocked and closed. Without boats and lively crowds, the government has enough time to clean the waters. This also led to the fact that at night, except for a small guard hall on the pier, which was not really useful, no one else would disturb my plans.
The reason I told Dexter about July 23, 1994, is because the local newspaper reports at that time were the only place I could find a description of what happened that year. The place where things happened more than ten years ago was on a pier. Now that pier has been converted into other places, so I can only borrow the temporarily suspended pier.
Want to make Dexter willing to learn to control his inner desires like me. Only let him really understand what he has been looking for for so many years. All he lacked was that terrible memory that had been deliberately forgotten. When he sees everything clearly, I think maybe he can learn to let go.
My plan is to use other means to reproduce in front of him what happened in the past. Just like I took him back to his hometown and let him remember my existence again.
Although the West Bank terminal is temporarily closed, shipping lines still have some containers parked there. Because it has not been used for a long time, it is placed in a mess. I came here an hour earlier than the appointed time, but I had been here many times in the previous week.
A screeching sound, which was so harsh to the teeth, came out as I opened the door of the container. It was dark inside, and I used the flashlight I brought to light a path and walked in. My movements don't seem to be affected by the environment at all, but God knows, when I first came here a few days ago, my feet barely obeyed my commands.
Maybe the remaining fear of Brian in my heart, at that time, there seemed to be a voice in my mind that kept telling me, hurry up and escape from this ghost place. But my sanity knows that I can stop anywhere, but not here. This is the final step, the place that will bring me and Dexter redemption and rebirth.
I walked into the container filled with icy air, and my shoes were banging on the iron sheets, making a clang clang sound as if I was carrying a huge metal musical instrument under my feet. After closing the door of the container with my backhand, I turned on the two battery-powered windshields that I had previously installed here. As soon as the two lamps were turned on, they illuminated the otherwise dark box brightly.
In front of me is a makeshift operating table made of a few boxes. On the operating table is a chainsaw that I bought at a second-hand store. Putting the two cans in my hand on the ground, I looked around and sighed. Then I opened the two big cans on the ground, which were filled with liquid, and as the lid was opened, a thick and disgusting bloody smell came out.
But I have long been immune to it. When I went to the slaughterhouse to buy two jars of pig blood, the bloody appearance of the slaughterhouse made me experience baptism earlier than Dexter.
He put the backpack behind him on the temporary operating table, pulled the backpack chain, put the flashlight back in his hand, and took out another item. Kind of like a small vacuum cleaner, but not. I put on a mask, and then connected this little thing to a jar like a vacuum cleaner, and inserted the other end into a jar full of pig blood.
The "buzz" sounded after I turned the thing on, and the pig's blood in the jar was sucked out and started squirting out the other end of the little thing in my hand.
The blood splashed out, and all of a sudden, the operating table and the walls of the surrounding boxes were covered with blood. I carefully smeared the wall next to the operating table with blood. The blood ran slowly down the walls, and because of the viscosity, the speed became much slower than the water on the glass of the car in the rain.
The jar that was about to be emptied made a puff puff sound, I turned off the power of the things in my hand, pulled out the catheter and directly splashed the remaining pig blood in the jar on the ground. Because the ground of the container is not flat, but has a shape of ridges and depressions. Therefore, the blood that was poured out slowly flowed further into the box with the slight inclination of the container.
I looked in the direction of the blood flow, and there seemed to be a hallucination in front of me again. Brian's memory was mixed with what I saw in front of me. There seemed to be two more frightened children there. The older one was holding the other child tightly in his arms and hugged him tightly. That was Brian and Dexter as children.
Dexter didn't see the final scene because Brian had his head held in his arms. But I seemed to be able to look into the eyes of the little Brian from ten years ago, and I saw his pale and bloodless face, his originally snow-white complexion like a dead man, and his empty eyes full of despair.
I took my eyes back and poured another can of pig blood on the other wall in the same way. The whole box was filled with a bloodier smell than the original slaughterhouse. And this bloody smell is more pure, without the smell of a slaughterhouse.
All the preparatory work has been completed, and now it is left to sit back and wait. After packing up the tools I just used, I opened the door of the container to take a deep breath of fresh air, and put all the props that were unnecessary in the scene restoration in another container. Leaning outside the container, I looked at the moon today, so bright that it seemed to dispel all darkness.
…
Finally, the appointed time has come.
I was hiding among a pair of messy containers by the sea, and I saw a person walking towards me from a distance. He walked briskly and leaned forward slightly, as if an invisible force was pulling him forward. Watching him walk all the way, it seems like a century has passed.
He approached the container where I had prepared everything to recreate the scene for him. Because I didn't close the door of the box tightly when I came out, he could see the lights revealed in the box.
"Beanie?..." I heard him call my name tentatively. I didn't expect that even if I told him my full name, he still decided to call it that. Brian's mouth curled with a smile because of the familiar name in his memory.
At this moment, Dexter slowly opened the door of the container. He's about to see it, the gift his brother prepared for him...
Gently stood up from the blind spot where he was hiding before, I looked at his stiff back. I also saw the scene in front of him that I made with my own hands. For a few seconds, I thought Dexter would just stand there and stop breathing.
For a while in this world, all that was left was the air-conditioning compressor that was in the container itself, and was later repaired by me to make it usable, making a roaring sound.
"I'm almost certain that this scene has been recreated perfectly," I said as I walked a few steps behind him. When Dexter heard my voice, his body trembled, and his footsteps involuntarily took a step back. He seemed to want to turn around, and I put my hand on his shoulder and pushed him inward.
"Don't you take a serious look? If you don't force yourself, how can you remember what happened." I said this, forcing him to go inside. His feet stepped into the blood pool, which was different from when I walked in before. Compared with the empty metal sound, there was more sound of water being stirred.
Suddenly my hands on his shoulders were empty, and Dexter fell to his knees. His heavy breathing made me feel at a loss, and I walked quickly into the inner part, standing in the position I recalled earlier when Brian and Dexter were there. Then I watched Dexter gasp loudly with his hands over his face.
He knew I was watching him, and it took him a while to let go of the hand covering his face. I saw the bloodshot under his eyes, and the blue-black dark circles under his eyes. I think he hadn't slept much this week. "So that's what you really look like?..." Dexter said, his voice hoarse like before.
"Yes," I laughed softly and cheerfully, "but it's not the first time you've seen me like this, is it? How did I do on America's Next Top Model and Survivor? Did Dummer? The face of the Si family?"
"What the hell are you doing?!...The blood..." Hearing my response, he asked impatiently, not seeming to care about my greetings.
"Are you worried that these are human blood? Because Sheriff Harry gave you a killing code that you can only be a vigilante." This was the third time I met him, and I finally said murder without any scruples this phrase. "Are you going to kill me? Obviously we are so similar."
"I!...I wouldn't do that..." Dexter argued, raising his hands over his ears again. "No...I don't want to watch..." He closed his eyes tightly, stubbornly not wanting to face the blood in front of him.
He seems to have misunderstood, thinking that the blood in front of him is the blood of the victim I killed? I thought about it and walked quickly to his side, squatted in front of him and put my hands on the backs of his hands covering his ears.
"Have you heard the word traumatic event?" I whispered in his ear, "Have you read the book about demons like us? Or, your adoptive father Harry told you that your So is this the reason?"