This is not the epilogue; it's an outtake, dream, alternative ending of Tomato. Written originally for Mal's compilation. I love Mal, and I'm so happy she got her happy ending!

Synopsis: Stigmata Tomato Bella is out for vengeance and goes samurai on Phil's sorry ass.

WARNING: NC-17 as this chapter includes some very graphic violence (against Phil), sex, and drug use.

Disclaimer: All references to Twilight, Kill Bill, Pulp Fiction, and Natural Born Killers belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N - Huge love to mac for beta'ing this, and to catonspeed for the awesome banner (I've pasted a link to the banner on my profile). I couldn't have written this very well without either of these ladies. Kill Phil is not an epilogue to Stigmata Tomato, but a dream sequence or AU ending.

Facebook Status: Samurais are the new pink.

We stumble and scream and fight and fuck. And we hunger for blood, vengeance like human flesh on our putrid, zombified tongues.

Will I be satisfied with his head on my mantle? Will I stop screaming at night when my katana slices through his meaty neck?

Or will I die a little on the other end of the sword?

There's no time for regret.

I won't sleep. Not until his cock is hammered to my cross.

-({})-

"Wiggle your big toe." My voice didn't sound like my own - it was harsher, grittier somehow.

"Huh?"

I groaned, my entire body stiff. Shit, how long had I been asleep? "Wiggle your big toe!" I repeated, the sounds in the small car echoing like I was at the bottom of a well.

"Me?" Edward asked, tearing his eyes away from the road to watch me pound my foot against the dashboard.

"No, me. My fucking foot is asleep. Or I totally had a stroke. Not sure which." I rubbed my calf, trying to summon blood flow back into my dead foot. "Where are we?"

"The desert." He shrugged, motioning toward the rock and sand that yawned lazily around us through the windshield. Nothing, nothing, nothing - an empty panorama of violent reds and oranges. Oh, wait . . . I was wearing sunglasses. The desert wasn't red at all.

Rose-tinted, my ass. More like bathed in blood.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. What town?" I hadn't meant for my tone to be so acrid. To atone, I rested my hand on his crotch, splaying my fingers, so I could cup his balls affectionately.

"Uh, I'm not sure." He swallowed, hands gripping the wheel while his dick sprang to life, becoming solid under my touch. At least I'd managed to encourage blood flow in one extremity. "I stopped paying attention after Barstow. Want me to pull over so you can give me head?"

"We can't stop here, silly. This is bat country."

"Cute." Edward smirked.

"Is this the painted desert?" I asked, watching the way the hot sun refracted rainbows off his silver fly. His dick was ensconced in technicolour, and I, blinded by its beauty.

"I don't think so. I'm pulling over, okay?" He lowered the zipper, parting the teeth with an aching and psychotic slowness, and he cocked his head and his dick in my direction; I swear, they both winked.

"So I can blow you?"

"Yeah, that . . . also, I gotta see a man about a sword."

"A horse, you mean."

"No, Bella - a sword."

"Why a sword?"

"Because," he gasped as I sucked the head of his dick into my mouth, his skin hot and slightly bitter with come. I felt the thick vein that ran along the back of his cock pulse over my tongue as I pulled him back into my throat, breathing carefully through my nose. He smelled like summer and sweat and my bedsheets. He tasted like home, the musk, and salt somehow sweet.

I hummed my question. Because why? My tongue inquired against his glans, fist pumping the base of his dick.

A shallow intake of air and a wheezing grunt was his only response. His fingers laced in my hair, hips rising off the seat, so he could gain deeper access to my mouth. My jaw slackened, and I breathed slowly so as not to choke.

But Edward never made me gag. Even when he fucked my throat, he was gentle.

"Marry me," he groaned as he came, all hot, wet salt on the back of my tongue.

I swallowed him down and protested, "You did not just do that."

"Marry me," he repeated, pushing my hair out of my face. "I'm serious."

"You just jizzed in my mouth, you asshole. That's no way to propose marriage. Besides, we're too young. And I don't have a ring." My hand wandered around his thigh and settled between his ass cheeks, tight against the seat. "Unless you want to slip your brown eye on my finger."

"I don't think I'd mind it." He grinned and licked my nose.

"You're a sick fuck."

"A sick fuck who wants to marry you."

I shook my head. "Don't distract me . . . just do what you gotta do. I want my katana."

He kissed me and opened the door. "I'll be back in three shakes of a lamb's tail."

"Huh. I swear I've heard that line somewhere before." I watched his butt flex as he walked away. "Why a sword, though? I mean, we could've just jacked a shotgun from Charlie."

"Have you ever shot a gun?"

"No. I've also never sliced anyone's head off with a sword."

"You've had combat training in karate," he explained, zipping his fly.

"Yeah, but I'm a green belt, not Uma Thurman. I'm also ridiculously clumsy and slow."

"That's why I'll be hiding in the bushes with this." He reached down the side of his jeans and frowned.

"You'll be hiding with your dick in your hands?"

"Where did I leave my gun?" He patted his pockets.

"Oy vey."

-({})-

I'd fallen asleep in the sand, dreaming of butterflies. My arms rose above my head in a feline stretch, and I looked up at the sky, now a burnt crimson.

What time was it? How long had I been asleep?

"Edward," I called. I thought I saw him in the distance, his silhouette set ablaze by the setting sun.

A hissing sound replied. I'd taken the peyote I'd bought back in Bakersfield while Edward ran his errand thingy. He'd said there was some guy in the desert who sold real katanas, and that shit was just cool. I mean, it wasn't like we had a plan or anything.

Other than to kill Phil.

But anything worth doing right was worth doing brutally.

"Here kitty, kitty," I simpered as a viper dragged its body sluggishly over the sand, hissing out a broken sound and coiling along a rock. Skin like chainmaille, molting slightly at the narrow tail, it rattled in time with my heart.

Hallucinations were neat.

"Do you know my thoughts?" I asked, imagining a juicy rat. She looked hungry, and those eyes like black pearls - they stared back at me in quiet understanding. Maybe she'd been hurt, too. Maybe she could teach me about vengeance.

The air around me shuddered.

"Don't be sad, pretty girl. I understand you."

"Holy shit," Edward bleated. "That's a fucking rattler." With clumsy hands he unsheathed a half-parabola shaped blade, gripping the handle with both fists.

"Shhhh. Don't frighten her." I lowered my hand to the ground and clicked my tongue, beckoning her forward. "And dude, you're so ninja right now it's not even funny.

"Please . . . just step away, okay?"

Well, jeez, I was the one who was high, and now Edward was all paranoid and shit. Maybe he developed a contact trip.

"She's a pussycat, baby. She's lonely."

I crawled over the sand, inching my way closer as she uncoiled.

A brutal, burning pain stabbed through my arm, and I screamed.

"You knew I was a snake, bitch," she sang, twisting and springing forward again.

-({})-

"You are one lucky girl," a fuzzy-browed doctor said with half-concealed disdain. "The anti-venom is working. Just in time, too." He chuckled, and I mashed my gummy lips together. "Another few minutes, and you'll be right as rain."

A precipitation simile in the desert? There was a special kind of hell for people who forced ironic turns of phrases on others.

"Excuse me while I laugh," I jeered and promptly vomited on Dr. Caterpillar-brow's shoes. Edward stifled a giggle that might have also been a sob.

"Nurse!" the doctor called, gagging like he was going to lose his lunch, too.

"Sorry about your shoes, dude. But I gotta tell you - I'm feeling a shitload better now."

Edward paced around the bed, glancing toward the exit of the ER. "How long until she's discharged?"

"Discharge." I snickered under my breath, repeating and rolling the word over my tongue.

"I'd like to admit her overnight for general observation - to make sure she doesn't suffer any adverse effects from the poison."

"No!" I shot upright, swinging my feet over the edge of the cot. "I can't! I have this thing . . . uh, I'm supposed to . . ." kill Phil.

"We're on our way to Vegas," Edward interjected, the corner of his lip hooking into a wicked, lopsided grin. "To elope."

"That's sweet." Dr. Fuzzy-brow smiled and scribbled onto my chart. "Know what would be sweeter? If she doesn't die."

"Nice bedside manner," I grumbled.

He closed the curtain around the bed, and Edward collapsed by my feet.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"You could've died." He pulled my foot into his lap and dug his fingers into my arches. "Were you trying to?"

"No! I was trying to . . . I don't know. Just make it all go away." I pressed my skull against the stiff pillow and sighed. "I want . . ."

"What, pretty girl? Anything."

"I want Phil not to be alive."

He smiled and went to work on my other foot, massaging exactly where it ached most. Somehow, he always knew where I held my pain.

"I wish you'd let me do it."

"No. Phil's mine." A cold satisfaction climbed up my spine. My anger no longer burned as it once had. My need for vengeance kept me cool, polarizing my thoughts. "It's going to be gruesome," I warned him.

"I know, baby. Do it slowly."

-({})-

I'd left my shoes in the car in my haste, and the yellowing lawn scratched against the soles of my feet. I took slow strides, katana raised proudly at my hip. As I crept closer to the side of the house, I almost mourned my lack of a firearm - I could see him lying on the ground, lounging in a lawn chair.

Shit, it would've been cleaner, easier, especially if we'd had a silencer. He'd never have seen me coming, and it could've been over so quickly.

But the sword would be more intimate, crueler.

The closest house was a good sixty feet away, and Phil and Renee weren't friendly people, so hopefully I didn't have to worry about a random visit.

And Edward would be waiting, poised to shoot if anything went wrong. I hoped he had good aim.

The drought-ridden grass gave way to bare rock and dirty sand. Renee never could be bothered with tending to the yard, and having delusions of maintaining a green lawn was just plain dumb when you lived in a desert climate.

First thing was first. I sheathed my sword and crossed it over my back, securing it easily with my belt. I lowered onto my hands and knees, crawling over rock and sand, my sword bobbing on my back. I could see Edward's red hair over the sparse bush along the property; it really didn't provide much cover.

Should I take him by surprise? Immobilize him with a superficial wound?

No. I wanted him to know it was my blade that tore through him. I wanted to look into his eyes without mercy and watch him die.

I stood, brushing the sand off my knees, and sauntered over to him.

The asshole grinned, happy to see me. "Love the outfit, Isabella. It's hot. I think I'd prefer the Japanese schoolgirl getup with the sword, though. Like that little slut from Sucker Punch." He sat up, a tent forming in his khaki shorts. "Put the sword away, sweetness. I've got something long for you right here."

"Is that right?" I swallowed the bile in my throat and lowered onto the edge of his chair. He smelled like beer and pungent aftershave. Some nights I still woke up from terrors, screaming, battling the weight on top of me and gagging on the reek of his cologne. I swore, it still had lingered in the air.

"Renee's not home." His meaty hand crept up my thigh.

"I'm counting on that."

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming for a visit? Last I heard, you wanted nothing to do with us." His fingers bit into my leg, and I let out a strangled squeak.

"Don't."

He relented on the pressure but didn't let go. "You need me, sweetness. Don't I take such good care of my baby girl?"

I shook my head, forcing myself to look at him. "I've come to fuck you. Full penetration. You've teased me for long enough, Phil. I need it all the way inside."

He licked his lips. "Oh yeah? I suppose that can be arranged. You are all grown up now. Where do you want it, baby?"

"You really do think I want it, huh?" My eyes burned, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. This was my day. Mine. I wasn't about to turn into a victim.

Never again.

"I know you want it, you little slut. You've been jocking for my dick ever since your perky, little tits came in."

He just made this shit so much easier. "Let me see it." My hand reached behind my back, fingers wrapping tightly on the bamboo handle of my sword.

"Go ahead and take it, Isabella." He lowered his shorts and pulled his erection out of his briefs.

"Close your eyes, Phil. I'm gonna give you a kiss."

He did, and I unsheathed my blade. "Ready for it inside?"

He nodded, his eyelids trembling.

"Keep them closed," I sang. "I really want you to feel this."

The katana slid off my back, and as I swung it forward, everything seemed to slow down. My heart pounded in my chest, and at first, I heard nothing but the whooshing of my blood pulsing in my ears. Before Phil could scream, the wet sound of his stomach tearing filled the air as the smooth blade slid into his belly.

His eyes opened, wide with surprise, and he tilted his head as if confused, following my gaze down to his gut. A scream finally erupted from him, high-pitched and keening, as I turned the handle, pulling it out slowly.

Blood splattered across my face with the withdrawal of my weapon.

"Does it feel so good inside, baby," I mocked.

"Holy shit . . . you did it," Edward said from several feet away. "I wasn't sure you would."

I grinned at him. "Oh, ye of little faith. Do you have the bandages, or do you have to go back to the car?"

"Yeah." He lifted a small while briefcase, not making any attempt to step forward. "I have them."

Phil made this awful choking sound, like he needed to vomit but didn't have the strength. His head tilted to the side and his mouth opened, a foamy, white substance oozing out and bubbling with his breaths.

Shallow and quick, he gasped convulsively. I bet he died liked he fucked.

"Bandage him up," I said over my shoulder, and Edward finally spurred into action.

"Phil, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, Edward. Edward, Phil."

Edward replied by punching his nose, a sickening crunch of bone echoing through the yard immediately followed by a sob.

"You might consider me sadistic, Phil. But I assure you - this is masochism at its finest."

"Why?" he managed to gurgle.

"Why what, sweetness? Why the bandages? Because I don't want you to bleed out and die too quickly."

Phil blubbered and retched as Edward covered his stomach a towel, the white cloth turning crimson within seconds of its application. Edward moved it to the side, just as a sausage-like tube of flesh popped out of the wound. "You're gonna have to be quick, pretty girl. No bandage will hold this mess together. His intestines are pushing through, so I can't bandage him closed."

"Shit . . . this wasn't supposed to be fast at all." I stroked Phil's cheek and smiled. "You always liked to take things slow, didn't you, baby? And here I am being all merciful and shit." My hand lowered to his lap. "You're skin's so hot. I bet I could fry an egg on it, couldn't I?"

Tears coursed down my face, and it pissed me the fuck off. I wasn't supposed to cry. I was supposed to cut his dick off and make him eat it, but he was already half-dead; there was no glory in torturing a dead man.

I felt Edward place his hand on the small of my back; I flinched.

"End it," he pleaded.

"He doesn't deserve a quick death." I wanted to wipe the snot out of my face, but my hand was painted in Phil's blood.

"Not for him, for you."

Phil's chest seemed to swell as he heaved. "Call . . . hospital. Please," he moaned. "You . . . don't have to-"

The tendons in my wrist fluttered as my fingers tightened around the handle of my blade. "I am a samurai."

"Look," he managed. "I know I fucked you over. I fucked you over bad. I wish to God I hadn't, but I did. You have every right to want to get even."

"You don't know what regret means. Well, maybe you do . . . a little bit." I lowered the blade to his dick and sliced through it like a salami, half his member falling into the grass. "That's what Japanese steel can do, baby."

Phil vomited in earnest now, thrashing in his chair so violently another few inches of intestine coiled through the gash in his stomach.

Edward wrapped his arms around me, and I sobbed, watching the man I hated more than anything, the man who took four years of my life for his pleasure, beg for his death. The rapist didn't want to live without his pecker.

But I didn't want to watch him die either. So I did the cruelest thing I could think of.

"Let's go." I dropped the sword beside Phil's fallen manhood. "I'm done here."

"But . . . he's still alive," Edward protested.

"Yeah," I agreed. "But I got what I needed. Let's call an ambulance."

"He'll tell the police, Bella; we can't just let him live."

"He won't. I have a video on my computer that will ensure his silence."

"But..."

I grabbed Edward's hand. "It's fine. I've beheaded the snake. It's over. Let's pick up a disposable cell and call an ambulance, okay?"

He nodded and lumbered away from Phil's now unconscious form. "Right . . . okay."

"We're fine," I soothed.

"Yeah." He wrapped an arm around me and kissed my head, the heat of his lips lingering on my skin.

"Hey, Sex-hair?"

"Yeah, pretty girl?"

"I've always wanted to be married by Elvis. Care to take a detour to Vegas on the way home?"

A/N - thanks for reading! The epilogue will be posted next week :) Reviews are the new purple!