[Where does he want to start? He's still not sure, so he'll just start at the beginning.]
This life—being a hunter—it started for me when I was six months old. Before that really, but that was the night a demon killed my Mom. She went in to check on me and the next thing my Dad knew she was pinned to the ceiling of my nursery, bleeding out and then it was on fire.
It took my Dad time to learn about what happened, but as far back as I can remember it was our lives. I never knew what it was like to be normal. I guess it's not something I ever had to lose, but somehow I still missed it. [that mythical, magical "normal" he could never have. The one that always got yanked out from under him when he reached for it.]