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~ Chapter Eight: The Inner Plea ~

"Hey Daring, what's up?" I nearly had a heart attack, an anxiety attack and slight bladder leakage all at once. I spun around to notice Dexter standing there, a book in hand – staring directly at me.

"The um, sky! The palace ceiling, stained-glass? Whatever after you want!" I really must practice not cracking under pressure. Although I wasn't sure of what pressure I was under, as Lizzie had left without anyone seeing.

Dexter chuckled, sliding his dark-framed glasses further up his nose. "Something's got your feathers frazzled, huh?" I couldn't help but to keep my eyes on the scabbing cuts he had on his right hand. I tried to shift my focus but I couldn't.

It seems he followed my gaze and realized what I was staring at.

"Oh, hey. . ." he addressed me. "it's almost healed."

"You're not though." I widened my eyes with what came out of my mouth.

I watched as Dexter's own eyes widened as well. I turned away and nearly ran down the palace halls to get away from the situation. Running all the way to my dwelling, I shut the door and locked it – even though Clara always checked on us, I was one step ahead of the old bat today by locking my door.

Sometimes I had periods of the day where I didn't want to be disturbed, and this was one of them.

"Son?"

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Daring? Open this door, as your father I'm not asking you. . ."

I stirred and opened my eyes, I didn't even remember falling asleep but apparently I had. When the knocking got louder, I rose out of bed so quickly that I fell out.

Ouch.

I near scrambled to the door, "I'm fine! I'm fine." Opening it to see my father there, I rubbed my eyes that still had sleep in them. "What's up old man?"

He glared at me momentarily, before cracking a half-smile. "Daring, nothing is 'up' at the moment. What's gotten into you lately?"

I let him inside my room before shutting the door again. "What are you going on about?" I asked him, trying to amuse and humor him more than anything.

"What I'm going on about is this, your siblings have reported some truly strange behavior from you. We just had a happening with Dexter, which he told his mother and I that he is trying, some days might be much harder than others but he's doing his utmost to-"

"What's wrong with him?" I blurted out, nobody told me why he did what he did. How he felt, when I asked him, he just brushed me off. I wanted to know. I'm his brother, despite what he believes, I love him very much.

My father looked down at me, "You don't know?"

I sat on my bed and heaved a heavy sigh. "I never knew, or know anything. Nobody tells me. Am I just supposed to know? Well if that's the case I don't and I'm utterly sick of it."

"Slow down, slow down Daring. . ." he sat on the bed next to me. "I didn't realize that you felt 'out of the loop' son. Let me fill things in for you. Do you remember years ago, when Clara's husband died?"

I widened my eyes, "He died? I thought he went missing. . ."

I watched my father bite down on his lip. "Ah, well, no Daring. He did die. And do you know what happened?"

Crossing my arms over his chest, my glaring eyes gave him the answer he was looking for. "Of course not." I told him anyways, just in case he missed such details.

"Well, Clara's husband took his own life. He killed himself, because he felt inescapably saddened. Nothing he ever did, or thought about – helped him feel better. After Clara talked to Dexter, she found that he feels the same as her late husband did."

I backed away from him, fell off my bed for the second time and I brought my knees to my chest. "No. . ." I breathed out, "no, no. Not Dex. . . he can't." I stood up, hardly having time to brush myself off. "Get rid of everything sharp, anything that can cause harm – get rid of anything he can use to, to. . ." I couldn't even say it, but he knew what I meant. "he can't, he won't hurt himself. I won't let him!" I was shaking at this point, hot tears streaming down my face.

Didn't Dexter know how much I love him? I couldn't lose my brother. We might not be similar in many ways, but that doesn't mean I hate him. Dear gods, I hope he never thought that.

"Shh, Daring! Daring, calm down-"

"How dare you tell me to calm down!" I yelled, rather loudly. "I can't, I can't have Dexter k- just, not exist anymore! I love him too much. You can't just sit there and do nothing! Father. . . dad," I begged him. "please. He could be harming himself while we're just talking!"

"Shhhh, Daring please – listen to me. Sometimes Dexter might feel like that. Sometimes he might, but he knows that his life is valuable. Not just to his fairytale – to us. To his family, he told us that he might be okay one day, even if it's not today or tomorrow. We just have to be his family and stand next to him and be there when he needs us to be."

They don't understand, none of them do. Just knowing that my brother feels this way, how ignorant I've been by not noticing – it's all tearing me apart inside. I love him so much and here he most likely doesn't believe I do. I hate it. I hate myself for it! How could I be so. . . harmful to my own flesh and blood?

"Get out."

"What? Daring. . ." he tried to coax me, I wouldn't have any of it.

"Please, get out. I need time to process this, please." I pleaded for my father to leave, I could see how hesitant he was – but he gave a nod.

"As you wish."

It wasn't no more than two seconds after he shut the door – when I locked it. I truly needed to be alone. I couldn't have everyone clouding my thoughts. I turned to my cellular phone, shutting it off and putting it inside my nightstand drawer. I needed no distractions what so ever after, hopefully this would help me.