He should have realized his life would never be normal- not even close- the day he first saw the tape of his sister.

But somehow, after the initial freakout, he settled back into normality.

Even if he had realized it, though, he wouldn't have for long. Not after his memory of that particular incident was erased.

He first felt the twinges inside him telling him he would never have the luxury of having a normal life when he rushed down his stairs, seeing a man whose hands glowed and a man with a gun invading his home, telling him that his father had kidnapped them, done experiments on them.

But not even that could convince him fully.

He became closer to knowing it as he watched his house burn, set fire by a radioactive man, and watched his sister grow back all her skin, watched it turn from black to pink.

Even that didn't make him realize.

Having to give up his life, leave Odessa, change him name and go into hiding? He really should have realized then.

Maybe he was in denial, maybe he was just stupid.

Costa Verde wasn't so bad. It was hot like Odessa, his house was just as nice as his old one in Odessa, and once he made a few friends, his life was nearly the same as it had been. A different last name, and his dad was actually home, but those weren't such big deals.

It was more likely that he was stupid.

His father coming back to life was hardly a surprise at that point.

He finally realized he would never, never, be able to live a normal life the day he came home to see Claire sitting on a table, her hair almost red with blood, a dripping line of it across her forehead, tears in her eyes.

He wanted to kill the person who did this. He wanted to kill them with such fury and pure, clean cut hatred that burned inside him and consumed him fully.

And he knew he could never live normally again. Not with that inside him.

Not knowing that his sister had been attacked by a serial killer in his own house and lived to tell about.

Normality was a far fetched wish.

And he finally realized it.

And he wished he didn't.