The wedding night had only made Naya more anxious, but luckily, they consummated their marriage in the dark. While Dandy was excessively proud of his appearance in the nude, Naya was deeply mortified. It did not last for a very long period of time—there had barely been any foreplay, and when he finally entered her, she couldn't help but cry out in pain. It was far from enjoyable, and she found herself whimpering with tears in her eyes more than moaning in pleasure. She had even bled on the sheets. As their intimate moments drew to a close, her new husband had issues finishing and pulled out before he could potentially do so. He did not even think to hold her in his arms to keep her warm in the cool bed they became one in. Naya wrapped herself up tightly on her side of the bed while Dandy sprawled out and smiled maniacally, his arms sprawled out to show off his toned arms before he fell asleep.
The following morning, Dandy woke up with Naya still wrapped underneath the comforter and sheets and ordered his maid to bring him a new set of clothing and to draw him a bath. He put on his bathrobe without tying the front before making his way to the bathroom, where he freshened up and got dressed in a white dress shirt with a black vest and matching slacks. He slicked back his wet, dark hair with a comb while his blue eyes penetrated the mirror that cast off his clear reflection.
When he made his way down the stairs and down the hall through the parlor, he heard a voice in the room down the hall. Dandy walked slowly as to not impair his hearing with the sound of his shoes against the floor.
"Oh, goodness, no. Dandy may seem durable, but he's actually quite fragile." It was his mother's voice. Just hearing her sent chills of fury through his body.
"Thank you, doctor."
Dandy opened the door, but made it creak by mistake, startling his mother as she stammered into the phone.
"Your services are no longer needed." That is when she hung up the phone, seeing the horrified look on Dandy's face that was mingled with anger and resentment. "Dear, you startled me."
"You think I'm sick, mother?" he sneered, walking toward her. "Defective? Unbalanced?! Fragile?!"
"No, no, I was only trying to placate the doctor, Dandy," Gloria said nervously. "You are spirited."
"I told you I didn't need a doctor, mother. You're a horrible liar! I can see through every one of your fabricated schemes with the words you say," Dandy hissed.
"I did not want him to get proactive about potential treatment for you," Gloria said.
"Well, if I am unbalanced, it's your fault!" her son shouted, almost a hoarse scream. "Dora told me everything when I was five. Your father was wiped out by the big crash of 1929, and you would have done anything to get back to a home like this! Even marrying your second cousin! You disgust me!"
"I loved your father!" Gloria cried.
"I was born of deadly sin, mother!" Dandy said with gritted teeth. I wish you could be inside my body for one minute to know what it feels like to be me! It's like when I had tuberculosis, and you took me out to the Utah desert, and there was nothing but dry open space for hundreds of miles around us!" He felt angry tears form from the blue pools of his eyes. "You knew what father had done to those little girls. You knew the risks of breeding with your cousin. You're no better than the Roosevelt family!"
Gloria was now angry with her son, biting her thin lower lip as her lazy eye seemed to straighten itself.
"Don't you dare say that name in this house, young man!" she said emphatically.
"What are you going to do about it, mother? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, just like you have all these years!" Dandy screamed.
"Can't you see you have a sickness, dear?!" Gloria cried tearfully, tears rolling down her cheeks as her heart went from angry red to sad blue. "Your father wasn't the love of my life. You were. From the second you came out and looked at me with that furrowed brow, I loved all of you, Dandy. Even the madness."
Dandy shook his head, biting his lower lip to keep from crying.
"You really are a horrible liar," he sneered, taking something from his back pocket and keeping it behind his back. "How could I possibly believe someone who hates me so much?!"
"I love you, Dandy," Gloria wept. "You're my son. I have given you everything your heart desired. I even am coming on your honeymoon to Paris. I'm sure Naya will love me in her company. She's such a good young lady."
"I'm not going anywhere with you!" her son spat. "We aren't having ANY honeymoon, mother!"
"Please, Dandy, listen to—"
"I have no more love to give," her son said, taking the handgun he had taken from his back pocket and preparing to put it to his head. He could've sworn her heard a distant gasp of shock. "You have tapped me out. You're right, mother. I'm sorry I've caused you so much pain. It's time for this madness to end!"
Gloria looked at her son in horror, fearing his final moments as she tried to persuade him gently.
"NO! Dandy! Please! Not this way! I can't go on if you kill yourself!" she wept. "Think of your new bride! She can't bear to see you die!"
"Well, alright."
He took the gun from his head, looking at his mother.
BAM!
Thud.
He shot his mother dead.
There was a scream.
"AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
Dandy smiled down at his newly dead mother before looking up at the doorway to see a horrified Naya, dressed in her nightgown from the night before, with tears welling in her intense violet eyes with her hands trembling near her mouth; her fingertips and hollows of her cheeks seemed to turn a bluer color. A part of Gloria's head was gone, allowing brain matter to spill out just where the bullet was lodged. Blood had spattered near her feet, and the albiness did not hesitate to run down the hall. Dandy chased her, grunting angrily as she ran to the phone receiver in the parlor, where she took the phone and attempted to press the number 9. Dandy had forcefully pulled her away, and Naya struggled out of his grasp, her strength doing nothing to save her.
"NO! NO! Let me go!" she screamed.
Dandy grabbed her head on both sides, gripping her stark-white hair at the roots as she cried out in pain, beating her fists against his chest to make him release her.
"STOP IT, NAYA! If you ever attempt to call 911 on me again, you're next!" he hissed in her face, droplets of saliva dropping on her lily-colored skin as she began to sob from the intense, burning pain in her scalp from him holding onto her hair the way he did.
"Please! Let me go! LET ME GO!" she pleaded, wailing out in excruciating pain. Gloria was right, she thought, he really is ill.
He tossed her on the clean white carpet, and she put her hands on her aching head, crying in agony. She looked up in horror as her mind's eye visualized the man that she had just married wearing a black, decorated military uniform with a thick, distinguishable armband with an ink-black swastika inlaid in a white circle. A belt kept the top of the uniform cinched and flattering around a built, fit form and the soldier's pants were neatly tucked into his tall black boots. His voice, however, was harsh—she could hear it all coming back to her.
"She missed seven! Start over!"
"Put her in there until we can figure out what to do with her."
