You were five years old when your dad, Dexter left. He let you and Hannah go to Argentina, faked his death, and went to Oregon.

The reason? He had just gotten his sister Debra killed. The guilt ate Dexter alive. All he wanted, in the world, was to be with you and Hannah. Mostly you. But he couldn't mess you up. He couldn't let his dark passenger, mess you up.

It was ten years later. Dexter was living in a very small town, Iron Lake, in the country side of New York. Everyone knew him as Jim Lindsay now. Dexter hadn't been called ‘Dexter’ since the day he left.

One day, Dexter got home to a strangerin his house. A boy.

After a short talk, he was quick to learn that this boy was his son. Dexter was thrown off at first. Mostly, because when he had left he had a daughter. Dexter was a lot of things, but old school wasn't one of them. He accepted you, of course he did.

You and Dexter were sitting on his couch now. The silence felt deafening.