Elin frowned at his sudden confusing blabbering. "Yes, they are both normal." She sat at the table while he was in his room, trying to remember bits and pieces of her childhood. She pushed deep into her own memory, trying to find hints that would show why she was the way she was. One day in particular popped into her memory, when her mother was reading an important looking letter in the kitchen. When Elin had asked what was wrong, her mother hand answered angrily, telling her to mind her own business and never touch her papers. She had been shocked by such a reaction.<br/><br/>Another thing bothered her. Her mother refused to show any of her baby or pregnancy pictures, saying they were really nothing special to look at. Eventually Elin had come to doubt that such pictures even existed. There were no pictures of them as a family now that she thought about it. And the deeper she probed into her own memory, the more she understood that she was nothing like her parents, that there was no way that she could even look the way she did now had she been their daughter. Was she...<br/><br/>Francis asked her about a relative. She shook her head, but stammered: "I... now that I think about it, I don't know if those were really my own parents." The words were like poison as they broke from her lips. Never had it even crossed her mind to say such a thing about her parents who had taken such good care of her, but all of a sudden it made sense. They had not tried to look for her after she had ran off, which probably said quite a bit about how much they really cared about her as their daughter. They weren't biologically related. There was no way.<br/><br/>"I honestly don't know, Francis." She sighed, not looking very good. Elin stood up and walked to the window. "I don't want to talk about this. I'm sorry, I just... no." She buried her hands in her face, not knowing what to think or say, or whether her assumptions were even correct.