Frederick Lampir was born in Bucharest, Romania on January 11th, 1974. This would make him thirty-six years old. His mother remembered his birth as terrifying. Frederick's father was a nomad, and Frederick was conceived after a night of potions. His father left before Teresa knew she was pregnant. Teresa Lampir was in a grueling thirty-seven hour labor. She wanted a C-section but midwives don't have the surgical capacity to complete such a procedure. When Teresa saw him for the first time, she threw up. Not only was he covered in blood and mucous, but he scared her. He had awful black eyes and black hair. But, worst of all, Frederick wouldn't cry for five hours. The midwife was worried that Frederick's lungs hadn't developed correctly. After the fifth hour, he cried because he was hungry. Teresa refused to have more children.
Teresa did her best as a mother. She provided Frederick with all the necessities: food, water, clothing, shelter, education etc. But she could never truly love him. Teresa told him she loved him, but her stomach would churn. Kisses and hugs were seldom. It was too hard.
Frederick was a quiet boy but a smart boy; he was also a good runner. He excelled in school, but his teachers never wanted to be affectionate or alone with him. It wasn't because Frederick was ugly or cruel or hateful. He just had certain tendencies that made people uncomfortable. Frederick had a way about eating his lunch, feeding classroom pets, licking his lips and fingers, and chewing on his hands that made people squirm. There were a few other children that were kind to Frederick. At recess or lunch, he wasn't physically alone. But mentally and emotionally, he had no one.
The best (and worst) year of Frederick's life was his sophomore year in high school. He had a 4.0, promises for a track scholarship, and he met someone like him. Her name was Lola. Lola was also quiet and kind. She loved to read and put on strange little puppet shows. Lola was obsessed with food too. Sometimes it would take Frederick and Lola an hour to finish a meal just so they could lick, taste, grind, and mash their food. Lola would gag herself after every meal, and then examine each morsel of regurgitated food. Frederick liked that game too. Frederick and Lola had sex on a balmy summer evening. There were no stars that night just a full moon. It was Frederick's first time, but Lola had already had a few partners.
Lola died the next day.
After Lola's death, Frederick appeared to feel nothing. He didn't scream, cry, kick, pout, laugh. The only sign of emotion was a strange smile he made at the funeral. He smiled at a tree, or perhaps something behind the tree. Maybe it was a ghost. Frederick finished high school at the top of his class. He went to a four-year university and got an engineering degree. His mother attended his college graduation but never made contact with him again. He decided he was tired of Romania. Frederick left for New York City.
In New York City, Frederick developed a habit. A cannibalistic habit. He liked eating flesh. It wasn't an easy habit in the sense that murder is not easy to accomplish. Victims scream and cry and whimper pathetically. It was a tedious, annoying process.
-Abbey Lawrence
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