Chapter One*Warning this chapter contains murder and mentions acts of cannibalism. Please do not read if this disturbs you and my intentions are in no way to glorify these acts, only to tell a story.*

Vivian had been slaving over the hot stove for three hours, preparing dinner and dessert for her husband, Al. She knew things at the radio station had been rough for him lately and she thought that maybe a hot meal would cheer him up. She heard the door open and went to pour him a drink. He walked into the kitchen and she handed him the glass of whiskey. She didn't know he had been fired from the station just an hour earlier and that his building annoyance and frustrations had turned into a bubbling rage.

"Hello my love, I've made Venison for dinner, along with mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables. I've been keeping it warm, I'll go get it for you." She said, she could see he was very frustrated. "I also saw that friend of yours at the market today, he and his his wife are expecting. Isn't that wonderful?" She added, thinking some happy news might make him smile.

"I've just come through the door, woman. Must you berate me with information? I understand you want a child, I'll get around to it." Al huffed and slumped down at the kitchen table.

"I'm sorry to upset you, that isn't what I meant Al." She sighed and walked back over to the stove to make his plate for him.

"Are you sure you didn't mean to? It seems that all you do lately is to upset me, incessantly begging for a child. Constantly making me feel like less than a man for not giving you one." Al growled as he rose from his seat and walked over to her. Vivian got a bit nervous, this aggression and tone were new for her husband.

"AL your as much of a man as they come, and I don't need a child to be happy. I won't bring it up again." She said as she attempted to pick up the venison with a fork and put it on his plate, her hands were shaking so much that she dropped the plate on the floor. The plate shattered and the food splatted across the tile and onto the cabinets.

"Damnit." She whispered. "I'll get the broom." She said. Al looked at the mess and back at her.

"What china was a gift from my mother." Al snapped as he pushed her against the still-hot stove. Vivian tried to brace herself and ended up burning her hand. She yelped in pain.

"Al, you're hurting me." She screamed and tried to worm out of his grasp.

"My mother was more of a woman than you'll ever be. She never nagged my father for anything, she served dinner quietly without breaking things and making a mess. And her venison was amazing, yours tastes like a bum's shoe." He spat as Vivan started to sob in both physical and emotional pain. Al grabbed a knife from the knife block. Vivan screamed and tried to push him away.

"AL please don't!" She screamed.

"Just stop talking!" Al yelled and stabbed her several times. Vivian's eyes went wide as her life was snuffed out like a candle. Al panted as he came down from his murderous high and realization kicked in.

"Oh… my precious doe, what have I done?" He asked fearfully as he let her go and her body fell to the floor. Her blood was spattered all over the kitchen and on his clothes. He heard a knock on the door. In a panic, he grabbed his coat to cover himself and ran to answer the door. Their neighbor an elderly fellow was standing there.

"Al, is everything alright? We heard arguing and screaming." He asked.

"Yes, everything is fine. Vivian and I had a bit of a lover's spat, but everything is fine now." AL said, unsure what else to say.

"Alright, could I come in and say hi?" He questioned.

"That isn't such a good idea, the misses… uh, has her monthlies and I don't think she would appreciate having visitors at the moment." Al lied, knowing it was a bad excuse.

"I am sorry, I'll just catch up with her on Sunday at church then." He said and walked away. Al said his goodbyes and closed the door. He went back to the kitchen to figure out what to do. He sat down for a moment to think, looking at her lifeless body. He sniffed the air and his stomach smelled good. Something smelled good, but it wasn't the venison. He saw that her hand was still resting on the burner.

"I suppose before I clean up, I should eat something, and this way she could be with me awhile longer," Al said to himself. After the sick deed was done Al hid the body and cleaned up the kitchen. Al never got over his wife's death and continued to relive this day with other women until the day he was caught and shot by an officer, running from the scene of his final crime. In the police report, it stated that Al's final words were,

"Oh… my precious doe, what have I done?"