Eyes.

I'm terrified of eyes. I only ever had two kinds of nightmares that would recur even semi-regularly. I didn't dream of falling. Didn't dream of pulling out my teeth. Didn't dream of failure. Only two.

A dream where I was covered in blood. Trapped and confined. Someone was close by. Maybe a lot of someones. Maybe one or two. But they couldn't help me. No one could. I was trapped and couldn't get out and I was drowning in blood.

Or variations on that

Then there was the eyes. The terrible eyes. Most of the time I'd prefer them to the blood. Some nights though...

It would begin in different ways. Sometimes, I'd be in a classroom. Sometimes at a park or a beach. Sometimes at home. When I started working, my workplace became a place of horror too.

The point was always that I wasn't alone. There were people there. People I was very aware of. And sooner or later, all their eyes would be on me.

Sometimes, it would be prompted by something. I'd do something stupid or suspicious. I'd say something incriminating in a conversation. I'd be standing over a dead body with a bloody knife. I'd be choking someone.

Sometimes, it wasn't anything suspicious. Sometimes, it was a polite hello. Or sometimes, it was nothing at all.

Soon, every head was faced in my direction. Every set of eyes were looking at me. Blank stares. Eyes filled with judgment. Hateful glares. It didn't matter. It gave me a terror. A horrible dread. A feeling like I wanted to crawl out of my own skin.

Worst of all was the feeling of being exposed. Like they all knew who I was deep down. The dark hollowness inside of me. The Need. They could see it. All pretense was shattered, and my monstrous nature revealed.

One night, when I was 16, I walked out of my room. I had woke up in a cold sweat from an Eye dream. I needed a midnight snack and some water.

Dorris- my mother- was in the kitchen. Sitting at the counter. I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at her.

"Dexter?"

"Yes, mom."

"Are you ok, sweetie? What are you doing up?"

"I uh..." I said, and I paused. My brain was moving slow like ice. I felt exposed like I'd done something wrong, even though I really hadn't. That dream was still nagging me. After a few long moments, my thoughts fit together.

Having a nightmare was fine. Normal. I could tell her.

"...I had a nightmare." I said.

"Sweetie, I'm sorry. Come here." Dorris said. Mechanically, I began to move.

"What was it about?" Dorris asked as I neared.

I turned on the faucet and got a glass. I needed as much time as I could to think about this. I filled up my glass, drank nearly the whole glass and filled it again. Dorris was looking at me, patient but expectant.

"Have you ever had a dream where...everyone was looking at you?" I asked.

"Where everyone was looking at me?" She said thoughtfully.

"Yeah...like you felt exposed." I said.

"You weren't naked, were you?"

"Mom. No, I just felt..." I said.

"Embarrised? Ashamed?"

"Yeah. A bit of both I think." I said.

"Honey, that's normal. Everyone is scared of being a person that stands out in a negative way. " Dorris said.

"Really? It seems like it's so much easier for everyone else to fit in." I said.

"Everybody wants to make it seem like that, but many people struggle." Dorris said.

"Did you?" I said.

"...Not much. Mostly, I had a group of friends. It's all about finding your niche. You have a few friends, don't you?" Dorris said.

The meager handful of acquaintances I talked to occasionally and every now and then hung out with were hardly friends. I didn't really know how it felt to have a friend. Debra was the closest thing, and she was several years younger than me.

"I mean...I guess." I said.

"High school can be tough. A smart kid like you will do better in college." Dorris said.

"...Thanks mom." I said. Talking to her made me feel...normal. She wasn't like Harry. To her I was just her son. A strange son but still...human.

"I..I'm gonna make a sandwich if that's ok." I said.

"Go right ahead." Dorris said.

"Ok, do you want one?" I asked.

"You know what? I do." Dorris said.

So I made two sandwiches.

"You know Dexter if you ever have anything you want to tell me, I'll listen. I won't judge, and I'll love you no matter what." Dorris said.

I had my doubts.

"I'll keep that in mind." I said. I didn't intend on sharing my dark desires with my mother. Not only would it violate Harry's code, but it also would feel deeply...uncomfortable.

Still, it felt good to hear it from her. For some reason. Most compliments or loving words from Dorris didn't really resonate. They felt...generic. Too broad. I didn't see myself in most of them. Sometimes they made me feel the weight of expectation. The disconnect between my mask and my real self. This one though...this felt nice. It felt true, at least.

"There's nothing wrong with being a bit different Dexter, as long as you are happy. Are you happy?" Dorris asked.

It was a strange question. At least to seriously consider. I was bored a lot of the time. Still, I had interests and hobbies I pursued. Life in the mask was always filled with unique challenges that kept life interesting, if a bit frustrating. I went on hunting trips, which were...satisfying. Myself and Debra were in an...odd spot. I had to pull away from her a bit, to be normal teenage boys couldn't be hanging out with there kid sisters. And Debra was rapidly reaching an age where she'd stop idolizing me and get her own life. She might even be embarrassed of me. Whatever I was, I wasn't exactly cool.

Oddly, the thought of Debra being embarrassed by me was..uncomfortable too. We didn't always get along, but she always looked up to me. Even I could see that. Harry had confirmed that to me in one of our chats.

Was I happy? I don't know.

I took a bite out of my sandwich.

"I feel happy right now." I said. It was true. At least I think it was. It felt true.

"That's good. I'm glad to hear that. But how about in general?" Dorris asked. I took another few bites.

"That's...kinda a difficult question. I mean...I guess I feel...content mostly." I said.

"I see." Dorris said and she looked at me. For just a moment, I felt like she could see me. The real me. Or at least the rough outline and jagged contours. And she didn't look ashamed and disgusted. Instead, she smiled.

I liked how I looked in my mother's eyes.