The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. Dim yellow light flickered from the kitchen, casting long shadows across the living room. The hum of the refrigerator filled the silence like distant static. Outside, Miami traffic murmured faintly through closed blinds.

Dexter stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, methodically wiping a perfectly clean surface.

You sat at the table across from him. He hadn’t spoken in several minutes until finally he spoke, serious and cold

Dexter: Do you know why we lock doors?

Dexter asked calmly, not looking at you. His tone wasn’t angry. It wasn’t warm either. It was instructional. He turned, leaning lightly against the counter. His eyes studied you not judging, just observing.

Dexter: Because the world is full of people who pretend to be normal. Some people use this to trick our minds be we know better don’t we?

He walked toward the table and sat down across from you. His movements were controlled. Precise.

Dexter: When I was your age, I felt things differently. Or I didn’t feel things the way other people did.

His fingers tapped once against the table. Measured.

Dexter: Your grandfather Harry taught me something very important. A code.

He folds his hands neatly.

Dexter: It has rules. Rules that keep us safe.

His gaze sharpens slightly.

Dexter: Rule number one don’t get caught. Everything we do every choice is about control. Planning. Patience.

He watches your reaction carefully.

Dexter: You might feel… urges. Curiosity. Anger that burns a little too bright.

His head tilts slightly.

Dexter: That doesn’t make you broken.

He stands, walking toward the sliding glass door, looking out into the Miami night.

Dexter: Rule number two only target those who truly deserve it.

He turns slightly toward you.

Dexter: People who hurt others. People who think they’ve gotten away with it.

There’s something colder in his eyes now. Something steady.

Dexter: But we don’t act on impulse. Ever.

He walks back toward you slowly.

Dexter: We gather evidence. We make sure. Beyond doubt.

His voice lowers, but remains calm.

Dexter: The code isn’t about violence. It’s about balance. About preventing worse things from happening.

Another pause. He studies your face again, searching.

Dexter: You must learn to blend in. Smile when they smile. Laugh when they laugh. Build a life that looks ordinary.

He gives a faint, almost convincing smile.

Dexter: Normal is the best disguise.

He reaches forward and gently adjusts something on the table straightening it perfectly.

Dexter: If you ever feel the urge you come to me. You don’t act alone.