Reviews:

Mgluvsbl25 - Hahaha, don't you worry about that type of pairing, I began writing a new story that will certainly tickle your fancy there, I've been undecided whether or not to post it as of yet, XD anyways! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! Hope you'll be here to review the next one. RavenQueenFan2605 - Oh thank you! Everyone, :D Glad to have the different opinions! x3 Written-Anonymously - Thank you! That's just what I was aiming for, :) Average Everyday Sane Psycho - Many thanks to you! I hope to entertain further with the next chapter :)

I very much appreciate all the love this story has gotten since I posted it day one, thank you soo much! I know I say it a lot, but I never say it and not mean it, I truly do appreciate every single one of you readers! Enjoy!

~ Chapter Five: See No More ~

My eyes slowly fluttered open, my face and pillow were dampened. I wasn't sure why though. I slowly walked towards my en-suite bathroom - where I saw the mirror had been replaced - and looked at my reflection. Damn it, there were tear stains on my cheeks. Again.

Everytime I thought I was doing okay, or feeling better - I often woke to tear stains, or a tightening in my chest and the pesky stinging of my eyes. I cried. I cried way more than a single person should.

I felt. . . the only way I could describe it was 'sad'. That's it - I'm not staying in the dark anymore. I got up and flipped the blankets aside, heading over to my own personal bookcase. I reached upward and grabbed a book, but dropped it as soon as I lifted it. The damn pain my hand was in. How did I forget what everyone was freaking out about just a few hours ago?

Picking up the book awkwardly with my left hand, I brought it back over to my bed, opening it and flipping through the pages, resting my bandaged hand upon the other page - I had a certain word I was looking for. Aha! Here it is.

adjective, sadder, saddest.

1.

affected by unhappiness or grief; sorrowful or mournful:

to feel sad because a close friend has moved away.

2.

expressive of or characterized by sorrow:

sad looks; a sad song.

3.

causing sorrow:

a sad disappointment; sad news.

Well, there were a few options in the dictionary I pulled from the shelf, but I would say all around that word described how I felt. But there was one issue, a contradiction if you will.

People feel sad for a reason. They have reason and a justification to feel such deep sorrow. What would I, a Prince living in a huge castle - have a reason to feel sad for? I don't.

I swallowed what felt like a lump in my throat, it was threatening to start again. My eyes were tired of tears, so tired. . . why did I have to cry again? Why? I don't have reason to feel like this! I have a mother, I have a father, I have siblings - I'm not lonely, I never go hungry.

I hate that I feel so sad especially when I don't have a legitimate reason to.

I don't just feel sad sometimes. Occasionally, it gets hard to breathe through the sobs. My heart aches, my body aches - I truly feel like I'm drowning and no one can help me.

This isn't normal. It can't be. I also can't keep living like this.

Living everyday in fear and afraid that I'm going to cry somewhere other than my shower.

There's the even larger fear that someone will have caught me in the act. "Dexter?"

I nearly fell off the bed, it was only Clara. "You! Uh, hi. Hi." I answered her, in a panicked manner. "You scared me." I told her sternly, shoving the dictionary under my pillow, turning my face as far away as I could.

"It's very late dear, what are you doing awake?" She asked me softly, shutting my bedroom door behind her. That meant she'd be sticking around a lot longer than I wanted her to. Darn it.

"Uh, nothing. I just had to stretch my legs briefly." I lied, praying that she wouldn't see right through me and my flimsy excuse.

She eyed me suspiciously, "Dexter, something's wrong isn't it?"

I shook my head right away, "No, no. Of course not."

"Then why are you crying?"

Oh no. Oooh noo. I blinked once or twice, I didn't feel tears.

"Dexter?" She reached out to me, but I inched back.

"No."

"Dexter, it's okay to cry sometimes."

Sometimes, yes. But not all the time! "Please, don't touch me."

"Dexter, dear please - don't get too worked up."

I shook my head, "You'll tell mom and dad, and everyone will know - I can't have that... I can't, you don't understand." She attempted to reach out to me again, which I rejected. I backed up, getting up from the bed and I did what I knew to do - locked myself in the bathroom.

She knocked many times, too many to count. I reached into the shower and turned on the nozzle, the water pulsating as I let more forsaken tears fall. I couldn't keep doing this, but I didn't know what else I could do but let the water run, along with my tears.

I couldn't bring myself to look Clara in the eye after that incident a couple nights ago. My parents hadn't acted any differently towards me, Darling and Daring were their usual demeanors - it made me question whether or not something was said at all. Did Clara keep true and not reveal anything? It was anyone's guess, but I didn't want to be barricaded in my room with a fragile warning.

"Silence is thine own worst enemy," Clara whispered to me as she walked by with a pile of plates after lunch that day. "come Dexter, I believe it's your turn to help with dishes." Daring hopped up - glad it wasn't his turn.

"I'm positive it's my turn Clara," Darling interjected, but soon was hushed up by Clara's simple gaze. "or not."

I sighed as I gathered up the remaining dishes, following her into the depths of the kitchen. She even shooed away the other maids. "I'm sorry," I told her, it spurted out faster than I knew it could. My words, not my tears. Not right now at least. "I didn't mean to-"

"Shhh, it's alright." She pat my shoulder comfortingly, "I just wanted to tell you - my husband had some similar things, that you do. The crying? Non-stop. He couldn't help it. He'd cry every day, we went to doctors but no one knew why. We tried to seek answers, asked questions and got nothing."

I put a used dish into the warm sudsy waters, grabbing the nearest sponge and washing it. "Where is he?" I asked her, fearing I already knew the answer.

"He's no longer with us," Clara revealed, taking the dish from me and giving it a final rinse. "he took his life."

I didn't understand. "Who?"

She shook her head, her face still with nostalgia. "He did, himself." It hurt her to talk about this, I could see it. I wasn't blind - even without my glasses.

"Clara..." I gasped, I didn't mean to make her remember so much sorrow.

"No, young Prince - you need to hear this." She heaved a heavy sigh, taking another dish into the warm water. "He didn't want to cry for no reason anymore."

I gasped inwardly this time, that sounded near exactly what I felt like. "I don't understand why you're telling me this."

"You're suffering the same evil that caused my husband's death. It's not too late for you dear, you can be saved somehow." Part of me wondered if she had some sort of voodoo black magic vibe, but Clara was just Clara - wise beyond her years.

I inched closer to her, worry in my eyes but it was now my turn to comfort her. "I couldn't be as brave as he was, to take his own life. I just want to stop crying," I said, near horrified that I even admitted anything. "did I really say that out loud?"

She nodded, "First step to healing, admitting." I watched Clara closely, she didn't seem so scary. She wasn't, until she started giving commands in her native tongue - that was scary. "I don't want to see the same fate happen to you. Your family loves you, Dexter Charming. You can feel better."

I gave a nod, "Right..."

She hugged me, "Not today, or tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow. But in time, you will see. I'm here for you." There was no antidote or source of healing that could help me feel as well as Clara just did. And I was ready to take her advice with me one day at a time.