Prompt: Morning Routines

Every time he turns around she is staring at him. Her eyes are boring into him as if she can unveil every one of his secrets, as if he can keep nothing from her. She doesn't have the decency to look away quickly, to smile, to even blink. And it makes him wonder what she is seeing.

Every morning it's the same routine. He wakes from a restless slumber of knives and rivers of crimson. Realizing with a start that he is not at home, he then forces himself into a hot shower before she wakes up and cuts through the din in his head of bone saws and pleading victims.

She's usually in the bedroom waiting for him to leave the shower and she passes him a wary glance before strolling past him, her towel in hand. He makes the coffee while she bangs around in her room. God only knows what she is doing, but by the time her door swings open he can see the mess of clothing in her wake. But it's her house and not his, so he takes a deep breath and focuses his gaze on the steam rising from his mug.

The questions start as soon as she's had her first sip of caffeine. They begin innocuously, how did he sleep, how is he feeling. But then she's pressing him about his day ahead, where he will be, who she will assign him with so he can't sneak away. All the while her eyes bore into him.

Today is different somehow. She's halfway through her first cup and yet she remains silent. It's not like Deb to be so quiet. And her gaze, fixed somewhere on the countertop, is strangely removed from him. Dexter takes it on to start the conversation.

"It's early still. Should we go get breakfast?"

But instead of her gaze coming up to meet his, she turns and looks out the window towards the tide. She sighs heavily, takes another sip of coffee.

"Deb?" He touches her hand and she starts, her eyes swinging up towards his. There is something akin to fear in them and he withdraws his hand quickly.

"Sorry." Her eyes fall away again and he wonders what happened for her to be so withdrawn. "We should get going. I have a pile of work waiting on my desk."

"Wait." He steps in front of her and she pulls back again. This time he is certain of her discomfort. "What's wrong?"

Deb tilts her head, looks at him skeptically. "You don't remember?"

He stares at her questioningly and she continues.

"Do you want to kill me?" Her voice is hushed and the anxiety on her face is clear.

"What?!" Dexter steps away from her, stopping only when his back has met the counter. "Deb, I wouldn't…" He tries to reassure her with growing alarm.

She steps slightly closer. "You know, I wasn't afraid of you. When I found out. I didn't think you'd hurt me, because you've never tried before."

"Because I wouldn't!" He wants to move closer to her, reach out to her. But the accusation lingers and he doesn't want to see the apprehension in her grow.

"Last night I woke up with you standing next to the couch." Deb's eyes drift past him to the butcher's block next to the sink. He follows her gaze, sees the missing knife.

Startled he looks back to her. "Where's the knife, Dexter?" Deb's eyes are wide yet focused on him like a laser.

"I don't remember this." He tells her desperately. "Deb I would never hurt you!" He takes a step towards her and she recoils, backing away while watching him.

"I don't know how to believe you anymore." Deb whispers. She shakes her head as she looks at him worriedly. "I was foolish to think I could stop you. You were right."

"No! No, I can do this. You can help me. It's getting better." He doesn't believe it at all, but he wants to. And he wants her to believe that he is redeemable. He wants her to think that her love is enough to fix him. Because if she believes, maybe he can too.

"If I hadn't woken up last night, what would have happened Dexter?" Deb questions. She places her hands over her face, shakes her head again. "I can't do this. You have to move out." She looks back at him and Dexter sees the pity in her eyes.

"Deb, please. I know I wasn't happy about this arrangement, but I would never hurt you." He pleads.

Deb looks at him for a long moment and sighs once more. "Get your shit together Dex. Take the day off and do whatever it is you need to do so I don't have to fucking watch my back."

He watches her pick up her keys and head out the door. He worries she will never feel safe with him again.