Queen Dairy
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  • 12

    Upon the bed, Lil adores the touch of Vincent's hair. The night's excitement has grown too much for her nerves, and so she's awakened from her dream. No longer was it those lavender fields she's so familiar with, but something new: the sunset. The shades of orange in the sky, giving way to the forlorn night. Vincent had lain with her by the trunk of the oak tree, and she trembles knowing that the same yearning which had pulled her heart, the restless yearning to chase after that dying light with all her breath; he'd felt it too.

    She strokes his hair – running her fingers through the tufts, and letting the strands brush across. As soothing a motion as it is when she once hugged her teddy bear during those lonely nights. Oh, why does it feel so good to hold someone you love in your arms.. and he's so innocent when he's asleep.

    When moments earlier, the way they'd clung onto each other is like something entirely new, with those ripples of pleasure erupting from some deep, unexplored fathom of her being. She loves the savage animal who had poured all of himself out to her, and the meek mask of his he'd use to hide it in front of others. They are both him.. different sides of him. Lil thinks she hears Vincent purring (it's really him snoring), and he squirms over against her warmth, and she is astonished.

    There's only one thing to do: in a profound and irrational sense, she purrs also. The delight she feels is overwhelming. She barely holds herself back from just kissing him – lest she'd disrupt his state of tranquil sleep.

    The doors burst open. Lil recognizes the porter who'd been wheeling Bonanno, and she brings the bedsheets up over herself.

    "Y-you!" The porter raises a quivering hand, pointed accusingly at her. "Bonanno had been watching you two.. thanks to your excitement, he's suffering a massive heart attack!"


    As it dawns on Lil that the whole time, other eyes have been peering on their intimacy, she feels a great wave of self-conscious chagrin and anger washing over her, like a sacred moment that had been secretly and perversely put out on stage for eyes to leer over.

    "My master is about to die!"

    She looks over at Vincent, who stirs. "Vince!"

    Through the fog of waking drowsiness, he grows cognizant of their conundrum – while the porter raises a revolver in their direction. "Bonanno.. he took me in when my own family didn't have the guts to murder me as a a kind man. A loving man. A grand man, whose life-saving generosity I owe back for all the little moments I'd savour. That's snuffed over now. He'll never get to see the shrine I promised for him, all thanks to you two.."

    Vincent sees the quivering eyes behind the barrel, barely able to contain the rage. "Your old man was going to die anyways," he says.

    "You.. have no fucking idea!You two.. why don't you just die with him.."

    Vincent, at first stunned, musters up the will to save her. He pushes Lil from the bed, right as the deafening report of the gun explodes the pillows. A thousand feathers jet into the air, an outburst of falling cherry blossoms while he engages the porter – mano-a-mano – over the gun.

    Their arms shudder.

    The porter is surprisingly strong, and Vincent starts to feel his arms bending back, facing a Mediterranean torque his nude, slender frame isn't equipped to deal with.

    "Lil!" he screams.

    Behind the bed, Lil's nerves cry out over the sight of the porter, vastly overpowering Vincent in brute strength. She looks for anything in the room for a weapon; there's no way she could deal with him as-is.

    Vincent caves in. His legs buckle over and he falls to the floor. While the porter holds Vincent's mouth open with one hand, he inches the revolver into his mouth, the barrel's cold chrome just sliding over the tongue.. his eyes are agape, the tears watering. He is gagging from the barrel pressed down by his uvula, and all he can do is helplessly thrash.. until he comes to his senses that he's one trigger-pull away from death. The porter relishes his display of helplessness.

    "When you meet Bonanno in the afterlife," the porter says, his finger hovering over the trigger, "let me hope he extends you the same kindness as he did me. Ciao, Vincento-"

    "- it was me!" Lil shouts.

    A huge part of her is relieved to see that she's diverted the porter's attention away.

    "I killed your precious Bonanno," she goes. "Not him. It could have been any other man who's been together with me – you're just directing your anger at the nearest punching bag, like the dunceboy you are."

    The porter considers. "Oh, is that so? It's double the pleasure then – I'll kill him anyways, so you can suffer my loss too-"


    The revolver goes off.


    For a split-second, Lil sees the smoke and blood, gushing out near Vincent's mouth. Her cries – so muffled by the pent-up tension in the bedroom.

    Why is the porter crying out in pain?

    With all the adrenaline filling your heart with panic, it's hard to see things play out clearly. But if Lil isn't mistaken, the porter is now missing his entire hand.

    Vincent has both of his hands on the revolver; the blood-stained barrel is still smoking.


    The porter is crying out like a child, as blood spills out of the stump he's had for a palm. Paralyzed by shock, he resembles a statue of a war-torn hero whose last moments of life involve an inglorious amputation.

    Vincent plugs the revolver again.

    His jaw is torn wide off.

    Shaken by his impending demise, the porter screams out with his voice gurgling, almost choking on his own blood. He jumps upon Vincent, an animal whose last dying instinct is to take its oppressor down with it.

    Then Lil golf-clubs the porter's skull with a vodka bottle – a loud, resonant pang – putting him out of his misery for good.

    Seconds pass by. Maybe minutes, even. Lil helps Vincent up, and they hold each other tightly as if to offer respite from the horror they've participated in.

    "Lil.. thank you," Vincent goes, his arms still involuntarily shaking.

    She only smiles – wiping away some of the blood from Vincent's brow, as you hear distant panic and frenzied chaos outside. They can't stay here for long.

    "That's two you owe me, Vincent."

    Dressed now, Vincent follows her past the startled crowd – many of whom are focused upon the procession of Bonnano's body by the ambulance staff. Some of whom murmur about hearing some gunshots, some screams..

    "The garage should be nearby," Lil goes, hurriedly brushing past a few suits and dresses in the night's veil. As her figure gets caught under some spotlights, Vincent sees the blood stains that they both share, with the combined sweat of their hands dripping some of it down..

    His heart in his chest – pounding eagerly and excitedly and with anticipation, as opposed to the fearful, chilling panic minutes ago. They're going to get out of here.. to where, it doesn't matter. Any place far, far away from here.. somewhere beyond the reach of other people.

    Vincent stumbles over a fallen wine glass. He falls atop a lady, who he stops his fall with by clinging onto her arms.

    When the mansion's spotlight comes on them, it's unfortunate that the blood is a huge contrast on the lady's white dress – the people nearby see.

    Then they scream. Bloodcurdling and shrill, so it's like an undeniable wail from out of nightmares.


    The mansion's guards, mistaking the blood as a sign of guilt, bark for the apprehension of the man and woman. The rottweilers sniff the trail of sweat, and they're on the chase, their feisty mass pummelling through people – panting, hungry, and somewhere up ahead, the couple who appear to their sensitive noses like a concentration of lingering delight.

    "Vincent, run, RUN!" Lil goes, seeing the approaching paws.

    Vincent pushes away the woman, whose outrage has her lingering on him, and he chases after Lil –

    They burst into an old garage (or maybe a car museum), where the fluorescent lights flare on in their presence. Vincent slams the door shut behind him, holding it closed while he slips down to the ground – as if barring entry to his worst fears, chasing behind.

    Many of the cars have been draped. There is one nearby, a grey Jaeguar in pristine condition which Lil helps herself to. The keys are up in the visor, and – thank God, there's still gas – the car whirrs into being.

    The dogs burst the door open..

    Vincent hops by the passenger side, as the rottweilers bump into the door, rabidly clawing at the window, breaths condensing on the glass..

    He exchanges a glance with Lil, a trust that goes past mere survival, before she shifts gears forward. A little press on the accelerator – the Jaeguar springs forth from its nine-year long slumber, carving a path out the den's overhead door.

    The guards – firing in the night, blowing holes. All over the car's glass and body, which rattles Lil and Vincent when the bullets crack the air.

    Lil rams a few guards out of the way, their bodies thudding aside as she sees ahead the mansion's gates, those bars, closing in. Her gut says she'll make it.

    When she floods the pedal, the Jaeguar jets out fire from its exhaust; breaching the gates in a torrent of sparks, bent metal and a trail of flames.

    Finally, the Jaeguar sits there, peacefully inert amidst the beach's dunes. The waters still roar upon the coast, as loudly as they would during the day, while Vincent's eyes flutter from sheer exhaustion. He stands, leaning against the car, while watching Lil stretch out her arms under the moonlight, before she undresses herself – scattering all the parts of her outfit close to the tide. Not a care in the world in her graceful movements.

    He sees her nudity, a dim and yet sensual figure, as she wades into the waters.. Vincent isn't too tired yet, so he walks over, and he tears away his own three-piece suit, so that he can let the salty breeze caress his body in goosebumps and tranquility.

    He hurriedly joins up with her, as she turns to see him. The water is just about lapping over her breasts.

    "There's blood.. on your arms, Vince," Lil goes. "Let me wash it off.."

    She rubs her palms over the spots, until the stains dissipate in the water. For the second time, Vincent is naked with her.. but now that he's perfectly content, he holds Lil close, and kisses her all over like a cup which has long adored the lips of a woman – his fingers rippling through her hair..

    Lil takes him underwater with her.

    The vistas of a thousand coral empires drift by them, as they drift aimlessly with the fish and aquatic life – breathing the water in as effortlessly as the spring air. All the while, Lil inhales Vincent.. his pulse, his heartbeats.. and breathes out her tranquility, wanting to be lost in this perfect dream with him.