In his new apartment building there was a woman next door my fathers’ suite that was attending the art program at McGill.

She’s now my mother.

The two of them didn’t start on good terms; they’d often file noise complaints to the manager regarding the other. Mother would turn up her music whenever she was painting, sometimes for a continuous twelve hours a day. Father would have loud intercourse with those he brought back at night, which was almost every other night.

Fair to say they hated each other. Each saw a trait they despise in humans in one another. She would see lust in him, and he would see sloth in her.

One day, my father attended the school’s student run art exhibition. That was when he saw her for the first time. When he really saw her for who she was.

He realized that all those hours of loud music were not a sign of her lazing around all day, doing nothing but painting. Rather those hours were symbolic of when she was relaying her soul onto her canvas.

My father was gawking at her painting for so long that she noticed him and approached. She told me that had she expected him to laugh or criticize, instead he stood there speechless and in awe. That was when she saw him.

My father describes her painting as the embodiment of human nature and our inner desires; she depicted a god-like figure consuming its human creations. But god was not cloaked in light, he, much like Lucifer, was shrouded in darkness. The madness of his creation had led to their inevitable destruction by his hands. God cried because he was the cause of their madness, god cried because he knew he had to be the one to take away their misery. He had to take matters into his own hands and end it.

They ended up getting engaged while they were still students and moved to Vancouver once they graduated.

My father’s friend from Seattle and Vancouver who murdered that philosophy class girl, was now a butcher. While in McGill, they were in little contact, so when my father returned he decided to surprise his friend.

During this visit, they spoke for hours upon hours. His friend expressed his need to kill once again, and my father, his need to eat again. So they started to plan another supper. When my father told his friend that he wishes to have his fiancé involved, his friend was hesitant.

I don’t know what led up to the next hunt and feast, I only know that mother acted as the bait. I also know that the butcher prepared the new meat and my father cooked that night for his fiancé and friend.

Skip forward a few hunts and a couple years, and I was born. And three years later, my little sister was born. The two of us had always been close, we went to the same elementary school where I’d look out for her and make sure she was safe from others. But when I was younger, I was somewhat of a deviant.

My sister and I were very close…

It is for that reason that my parents later put her into a private high school for girls, and me into a private school for boys.