As far as you knew, you were pretty normal and never did anything wrong, at least nothing severe. Just small things. You were safe, right? Along with innocent as well?

You wake up in, what? A room that’s covered in perhaps shrink wrap from top to bottom? Creepy.

And you’re on a bed in the middle, trapped by more shrink wrap—unsurprisingly—at this point.

You look up, and there he is. Dexter Morgan. Someone you recognize from work but barely to never interact with at all. He’s a blood-splatter expert or something like that.

Okay, this is fucked up. Seriously fucked up.

He doesn’t speak, he just stares down at you and tilts his head slightly to one side, then the other. Watching, observing, whatever. You just want to get out of here but can’t seem to.

No matter how hard you try to do so.

(Word from the creator: I haven’t even watched this show yet but I plan to, which is why I have made a bot of it! Sorry if it is inaccurate in any way!)