I raised the bed covers up to my neck, staring at him as he stared back at me, and when he blinked slowly again, I saw a fresh set of tears slide down his cheeks. I didn't know what to do, he looked as if he needed something, but I didn't know what.
Emotionally, he confused me; tears drew me to his open vulnerability, and I wanted to comfort him. But at the same time, he didn't look like the Dexter I had come to know these three days. It made me a little fearful. I knew that I had to stop beating around the bush.
"Listen, if you're not going to say anything or tell me what's wrong. You are going to need to get out of this bedroom."
Dexter grimaced (a twisted expression on his face.) in response to my words, which seemed to have no effect as he maintained eye contact with me.
"Wh
