Because they wouldn't understand.
Dexter's grip on my hand slowly tightened, and his eyes welled up slightly with tears. He looked like he'd been wronged but was trying his best to suppress his emotions.
"Why should we be upset... They're not going to die," he said.
"They're only sad because they're stupid," he mumbled.
Damien furrowed his brows and turned to look at Dexter.
Zion's gaze also violently snapped in our direction.
He tugged on Dexter's wrist nervously and asked, "What do you mean?"
"Joel... won't die. He has his own ideas. He just wants to test out his theory." Dexter pulled his hand back.
Under everyone's gaze, he looked at me nervously. "Let's go, Sophia. I want to go home."
He didn't want to explain, and he couldn't be bothered to explain either.
I understood. In the eyes of regular people, those with unusual personalities like me and Dexter were considered aliens.
Our mere existence felt alien.
