Jean was born of Eurasian descent: a quarter French, a quarter Chinese, and half Vietnamese. 

Jean lived his childhood unusually well-behaved. In fact, Jean could be too much of a stickler for the rules.

As the younger brother of a social and academic genius, Jean somehow performed more brilliantly. His aptitude in math was unbelievable, crossing the boundary to comprehending geometry, algebra, trigonometry, statistics and calculus with ease. Jean was a veritable prodigy at the age of 7.

Yet something broke his savant nature before it could fully blossom. This was society. Mainly, how his family changed because of it and how society, in turn, treated them.

Jean's dad worked as a chef who spoke broken English. During the Vietnam War, he served as the only doctor Presidents obsessed over because of his miraculous treatments. He even saved his own mother from a rare heart disease. However, his immigration to the United States found that his credentials were not valid licenses to practice, nor were his practices legitimate enough to use systematically, much to the enjoyment of xenophobic Americans sore about the war. This led him to drinking, rage, and domestic violence, especially since he faced both the discrimination of being an Asian and being from the country the United States lost the unofficial war to, despite hailing from the South, which allied with the Americans. His mother died in a mistaken American bomb raid on an innocent village a few days before the War ended and his father died while in captivity. The news arrived on the week after settling in America, making Jean's father extremely unstable.

Jean's mother was his father's hometown beauty and used as a token of an arranged marriage. She was so unbelievably eye-catching that Jean's father once had to permanently disfigure her face so American soldiers wouldn't kidnap and defile her. At least his fellow Vietnamese would kill her with dignity if they had the chance. Luckily, that was a big if. Despite her hardened nature from being a seamstress during the war and her father abandoning her ailing mother, she struggled with mood swings. One moment she pampered guests like a fairy and the next, she spoke on with obscenities and her fists. Her biggest struggle was her appearance. Ever since she was disfigured during the War, she worried about her public image. America fattened her body, increased her insecurities, and entranced her with brand clothing, makeup, and various products. It didn't help that she sent hundreds of dollars back home, even flying back to Vietnam every few years. She was forced to menial labor, including her previous work as a seamstress.

Jean's older brother was a hardcore nationalist. He was brought into America at the impressionable age of 5 and became indoctrinated with its values instantly. His genius and adaptability helped him pick up English in a matter of weeks, closely attaching himself with whoever he could so he appeared like a native. His closest friend was a half British, half Swedish neighbor who was two years his junior. With his friend who was the son of a cop, he managed to avoid trouble with the law, like with future drinking and drug use or violent attacks or petty larceny. This also proved very useful whenever other neighbors complained about the noise from Jean's home whenever his parents fought or his older brother got into fights.

Jean was born a citizen of the United States, just barely outside of the state line, which complicated his origin and made for messy paperwork neither of his parents understood. With a staunch belief of a self-sustained body and suspicion of poisoning from prejudiced American doctors, Jean's father kept his kids home and away from medicine. Somehow, Jean failed to inherit or be exposed enough for strong immunities to developed and lacked the supplies for the medical practices his father had in Vietnam. Jean lived sickly but had much demanded from his father, mother, and brother.

Because of a lack of financial control by immigrants incapable of reading Federal jargon, Jean's family survived on donations from the Catholic Church. In spite of being nonreligious, they were ceremoniously given enough to live. Still, an endless anger prevailed in the family because of an unrelenting discrimination from the locals and the combo of an economic and emotional stress on their psyches.

Jean's father always wanted to be a respected doctor again, along with the freedom of being single so he wouldn't fight a crazy woman like his wife. He was cowed under the strict eye of his management, gossip of his hateful coworkers, and controlled by the callous corporate profit margins.

Jean's mother always wanted to go back home to Vietnam, be beautiful again, and have a normal family. Everything in life reminded her of her ugliness and broken family, so she bought secondhand goods from garage sales for a facade of normalcy.

Jean's brother always wanted to fit in. He tried hard to live in America as an American but the racial difference and immigrant status stained his identity. He was stuck compensating for inconsistencies and showing both his loyalty and interest.

Jean? Jean wanted death. He was raised in the tempest of his family's internal struggles and external struggles against each other and society. The first concept of death came with his older brother's hardly veiled threat of murder. Yet, more exposure to society's hypocrisy and taint led Jean wanting death more and more.

Jean endured bullying. Jean bullied using the school rules and his performance. Jean played games with death. Jean watched films with death. Jean heard stories of the death of loved ones. Jean witnessed the death of countless bugs and the slow death of pets. Jean took note of how much he liked death. He noted suicide methods, suicide attempts by students, and even the occasional roadkill. Jean remembered all the suffering of his family and their ties to death.

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Jean witnessed baby birds falling out of their nests and breaking open their skulls for flies to fester in hours later. The worms slowly decomposed their small corpses to make them part of nature once more.

Jean loved death. But Jean knew society hated murder. So, Jean kept a smile on his face and lived his life as a facade. In his mind, Jean dreamed of killing while he servilely lived. A dreamland where Jean could murder and be free took form.

Even when beaten until Jean coughed blood... Even when bullied by his peers for his fall to normalcy... Even when told the worthlessness of his life by his parents... Even when strangled by his own jealous brother nearly to his death...

Jean smiled and lived another normal day without exposing his true nature.

That is, until Jean hit his limit.

Then, Jean began his criminal career as a serial killer.

It all started with just an idea.

Jean tapped his finger on the cover of a book.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It was monotonous, like a day-job.

Jean wasn't in school because he just graduated high school. He also wasn't working because he just graduated high school.

He, furthermore, wasn't working because he was waiting for his invested gambling winnings to maximize their profits before trading it off to some inexperienced schmuck.

Jean's brother may have worked at a Wall-Blues, J. C. Nickels, and an Old Native's before and shortly after graduating, but they were fundamentally different.

Jean didn't particularly want to go to college nor climb the corporate ladder as a cars salesman and management for Affordable Motors.

Jean didn't want to smile and peddle off goods like a mindless drone.

Jean also didn't want to continue counting cards when he gambled, even if it helped him win money. There was a limit before their management caught on to his schemes.

So, Jean continued tapping on the book.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The front door was also being tapped.

Jean got up, still dressed in some black slacks and a blue dress shirt. He opened the door, careful not to disturb the shoes nearby.

"Hi, Grandma!" Jean said, warmly.

"Hey, Jean! How have you been?" the old white lady said in a slightly cracked voice. She slowly moved from the cracked and dirtied concrete steps and into the house.

'Good! How's Grandpa's throat cancer? I know his back's been getting worse." Jean led her to sit on the couch, ignoring the mess she trailed in the house with her shoes.

"The Lord is doing his work because he's recovering."

"That's good. Do you want anything?"

"Just water and some company will do!" she laughed warmly.

Jean got some water from the kitchen.

"Age is catching up to us. We're going to be at the Pearly Gates by the time you get married!" she laughed again.

"Make sure to meet with our kids and grandkids! I know some of them are unruly and impolite but they really have good hearts! They're Christians, through and through!"

Jean handed her the glass of water.

"Thank you."

"I know we should keep faithful, Grandma. I always go to Church and hear a sermon for the Lord's wisdom. They helped feed and clothe my family, after all! But poor Marie and Algernon! I know Algernon's… losing his marbles and can't walk like he used to. Mary's trying her best for her brother, but she's growing weaker every day. I help them take out the trash and rake their lawn but I still don't know why their family isn't there for them!"

"Didn't you notice yesterday?"

"I was out doing business yesterday. What happened?"

"Algernon's heart stopped. He was pronounced dead today and Marie went into shock."

Jean bent to the side, looking away from the old woman next to him.

"It's okay, Jean. Our neighbors were called on by the Lord. Their time came, so treasure the moments they left behind and pray for their family. They may be deaf to the Lord's words but they aren't hopeless." The old woman rubbed his shoulder, her arms much thinner than his.

Jean was silent.

"You've always been such a good boy, Jean. Never causing trouble like your brother or his friends."

Jean stayed quiet.

"You haven't got a stable job. You're probably bored out of your mind if you're reading books like these," the old woman laughed. She pointed at the thick book on the table that had "H. P. Lovecraft" in big, bold letters.

"Maybe you can help that family down the street? They were in dark times, like your family. Maybe you can convince them to let God into their life and become good Catholic Christians like us!" she laughed with mirth again.

"The father has a drinking problem, the mother has a spending problem, and the kids have anger issues," Jean said softly.

"All the more reason why you can help them best." The old woman smiled and got up.

"I think it's time for me to go home. Think about it, Jean!" she said.

Jean led her to the front door and waved her off. He closed the door and prepared to mop up the mess she left behind.

Pray for Marie and Algernon's family? Jean sneared. Absurd! They already cut off ties! They were bound to find some way to take their belongings and sell off their property to make a quick buck. This was America, after all, where your own interests came first before others. Jean kept a facade but those actions didn't mean he was sincere!

"Adopt them into my life like Grandma and Grandpa did with me? Hmmm…" Jean said, out loud.

"I guess I can use them to fulfill my own desires." Jean grinned.

A plan was taking place in Jean's mind.

A plan where he acted on his own interests, forever separating himself from the shackles of societal values and norms.