Some of us propose that the Father is a simulacrum, the face of the veil. I have heard evidence to support this theorem, although it is probably some sort of heresy to openly espouse it without the backing of a shift in the Timberwolves' line of thinking. I suppose I shall simply let those of you who visit my cozy corner of the internet decide for yourselves.
Lily's husband had been dead for five years. Lily's husband had been stalking her with intent to kill for five years. Obviously, something wasn't quite right here. For whatever inscrutable reason, the Father had singled out his prey, and one lonely night so deigned to pounce.
Lily was prepared, of course. She had survived for five years as a self-affirming widow due to preparation, instincts and uncanny aim. Not that it did her any good, as she had never been able to (as far as she could tell) actually land a solid blow upon the thing that wore her husband's signature greatcoat. Sometimes she shot, sometimes she stabbed, but the glassy eyes of the Father's mask betrayed no sign that metal had met flesh.
Over the years she had developed an uncanny ability to predict when her husband would come knocking, like an old woman feeling an oncoming storm in her bones. It should be needless to say that it's very, very difficult to take a god by surprise. We are quite sure that many parts of this story are embellished (I did, in fact, hear it directly from the horse's mouth) due to this fact. Lily's husband gently pushed open the locked door like (and I apologize for lapsing in my sophistication) it wasn't no thang, and was promptly reintroduced to his old umbrella. The Father shrugged off this unorthodox means of assault to find that Lily was gone, and he proceeded to search the rest of the house.
He entered Lily's husband's old room, coldly surveying it with a strange hint of recognition. Then he was shot in the back with a twelve-gauge shotgun.
The Father stood for a moment, still. A scream pierced the air, and Lily heard her husband's voice for the first time in five years - a scream of pain. Her vision blurred and bright white spots consumed the world as she saw the Father turn to face her. Its chest had shattered like glass, as if her husband's likeness were a shell around what she saw within his chest.
Simultaneously she saw her husband stumbling back, shouting in agony, his face freed from the gas mask as he bled and died on his old bed. But they didn't happen at once, and the two visions alternated and interwove and coexisted and Lily screamed because she couldn't make sense of it and her eyes kept being drawn to the hole in the Father's chest. But then the Father took all of the pain away, and pulled her into a tight embrace. The pain was gone and her body was on fire. Then the Father took off his mask, and she saw Him, and she saw Bliss.
This was approximately the point, we theorize, that Lily entered the Father's dominion. Neighbors called the police, and they found Lily not breathing and surrounded by blood. Forensics indicated that the blood was deeply stained into the bed and carpet, and had been there for at least five years. Fortunately, they were able to resuscitate Lily. She described to them a near-death experience, a feeling of absolute protection. This was only half of the truth, of course. Myself and my compatriots later extracted the rest, catching her before her inevitable suicide.