*TRIGGER WARNING*

"Juno. I'll call you Juno," he said, rubbing the puppy's head.

   Dylan stood next to him with a cereal bowl in one hand and a box of Lucky Charms in the other. "Where'd you get that thing?"

   "This man, Caleb, came over to the motel yesterday. Tried to give Juno to Mom. She told him that if he came again, she'd call the police, and then she kicked him out."

   "Norma...has a brother?"

   "I guess so. You know, I doubted it at first, but the more I watched him, the more I realized, they looked so alike--"

   "I don't understand. Did she say why she kicked him out?"

   "No. She just told me I could do whatever I wanted with Juno, here," he paused, gazing down at the puppy with soft eyes. "I think I'll keep her."

   Norma came down the stairs, squinting tiredly at the boys. "Oh, I'm so sorry you two, I was gonna make breakfast, but I'm so late--" she peered at the clock on the wall. "Has anyone been down to the motel?"

   Norman nodded. "I've been down. Everything seems fine, you should rest," he said. Juno had now wriggled out of his arms and was ambling around on the floor, going over to Norma to sniff her feet. 

   Her eyes were narrow as she glanced down at him, mentally cursing her brother. We didn't need a dog, she thought. "Nonsense, Norman. I have some paperwork to go through," she said, grabbing a rain coat from their coat rack. She knelt down to glare at the dog, "You're not coming with me," she whispered, before she marched up to her, licking her nose with her little puppy tongue. She chuckled a little, then stood. "Norman, I think Emma wanted to come see you today, you might want to get dressed."

   He shrugged. "Alright."

   Norma started down to the motel. She hadn't noticed that little Juno was following her, she was too busy staring through the rain at the motel.

   A brown van was sitting in it's lot again. She paused, then stomped in quite angrily. "Caleb, what are you doing here?" she asked, a little more calmly than the last two times.

   "I-- I just wanted to see how the little one was doing," he said, glancing down at the silky-furred animal. "She seems to have taken up with you."

   "Well, she's not mine, she's Norman's. Sorry, your plan didn't work. I've got enough to deal with, anyways," she muttered under her breath.

   Caleb heard it, then suddenly noticed his sister's slightly swollen womb.

   "You can quit staring. I know what you're thinking. I still don't want you here."

   He shook his head, continuing, "Norma, I didn't have a plan. I just...wanted to come and apologize. I know that nothing I ever do for you will ever be able to make up for what I took from you."

   "You raped me!" she screamed. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she spoke. Tears erupted from her eyes; she started to crumbled yet forced herself to continue, "You just saw what was there and took it without any regard as to how it made me feel, or how it made me look. You just raped me and you now you want to walk in here and act like nothing has happened!" She lowered her head so that he could no longer see her face. It would be too easy for him to look at her and know that she was breaking; he had done it before, and would do it again.

   "I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. I regret it every day of my life, Norma. What I did to you was wrong, and I'm not asking to come back into your life again. I just want your forgiveness, if you can ever give it."

   She finally looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears and her lips trembling. Norma opened her mouth to speak, before Norman stormed through the door, grabbing Caleb and throwing him up against the wall. Caleb was dazed by Norman's attack. The young man punched him a few times, prompting him to fight back. "Norman, stop!"

   But Norman didn't stop. He punched Caleb until his nose bled. His hands hovered over her brother's neck for a moment before he started squeezing. The sandy-haired man struggled beneath him, watching out of the corner of his eye as Norman's puppy barked and barked and barked, egging on the fight. "Norman, Norman you have to stop!" she screamed, grabbing her son's shoulders. He shook her off, nearly elbowing her, his eyes glazed over darkly.

   "Norman, please, you can't kill him! He's Dylan's father!"

   Her youngest son loosened his grib on Caleb's throat. He turned to face his mother. "What?"

   He glanced up at his mother. Her eyes were sparkling with tears, her lips still trembling. "Caleb-- he's Dylan's father," she admitted, sobbing.

   As if on cue, Dylan busted through the door. "What's going on here? Mom, are you okay?" he asked, grasping her shoulders gently.

   Her breathing slowed. "Everything's fine, Dylan," she glanced over at Caleb's limp body. "Norman, he was just defending me...he didn't know--" she stopped herself.

   "Wha-- defending you from what? What did he do to you?"

   She cried. "He did do anything, he just came to talk."

   "Talk about what?"

   "He raped me, Dylan. When I was young, and still at home, he raped me."

   Dylan glanced over in disbelief at Caleb's body. "Norma, you can't-- surely he wouldn't..." he paused, remembering that only this morning did he learn that his mother even had a brother. "Let's get him out of here," he said, walking towards the body.

   "Mother."

   "What is it, Norman?" she sniffed.

   "He deserves to know."

   Dylan turned around. "What are you talking about?"

   Norma started crying again. "Dylan-- Caleb is your father," she could hardly get it out without blubbering all over him. "I'm sorry."

   She hadn't seen this look on her son's face before, and it scared her.

   His eyes were wild, his expression even more startled than before as he realized what must have happened for such a thing to be true. So he was the illegitimate child. Really, it explained so much. He could remember those moments from his youth when his mother was ever so harsh with him, yet so incredibly gentle with Norman. Why it never felt right to call anyone father, even Alex. He saw the look in his mother's eyes; the way she must've hated him with such a fire and a passion. He wondered how she was ever able to look at him every day. 

   And then he began to wonder about himself, too. What would this mean for him? Would he ever be able to have friends? To be married to someone, without something so ugly hanging over his head? Any potential wife would be turned off by the, "Yeah, my uncle is also my dad," conversation, and what would that mean in terms of children? Could he ever really bring children into this world, knowing what he knew about himself, knowing that it might jeopardize the life of his offspring?

   It was too much to take. He didn't know how she could still look at him, or why she was even still crying over him.

   He fled, taking this new information with him.