I wont pretend I'm happy; when I just want to leave.
He swears he loves me, but that's hard to believe.
He wants to control me and break my pride
But I can't cry the tears I've dried.
Bree had just about had enough of Orson. It had been five months, and Bree still wasn't giving into her husband. She wasn't about to let him win by telling him that she loved him, when she knew that was one of the last things she'd want to ever say to that man. She wasn't going to let him win by making love to him, just the thought of him touching her was enough to make her skin crawl.
Orson knew very well that things were not getting better between them, they were only getting worse. So much worse, but the stubborn bastard just wasn't giving up; well neither was Bree. She knew how to be stubborn too.
It was almost eleven o'clock at night, and Bree just got home from work. She was exhausted, and really didn't feel like facing her husband at all before she shut her eyes. Just knowing that if she seen a glimpse of his face, she would be in a vile mood all night long. As she entered her bedroom, she noticed Orson had already in bed, reading a book. "Ah, good evening, darling. How was your day at work?" He asked her with a smile, laying his book flat into his lap.
Bree didn't return the smile, instead she nodded his way, "Strenuous," she said in an draining tone, with a yawn following close behind.
"Well, I'm sure you'll feel better after you crawl into bed," He smiled.
Bree just looked at him, and the expression was returned. Approaching the bed, she grabbed her pillow and tucked it underneath her arm, then she turned to walk away. A puzzled look covered Orson's face, and he watched her as she inched closer to the bedroom door without saying a word, "Where are you going?" He asked curiously.
Bree stopped, and looked over her shoulder somewhat, "I'm not sleeping here."
Orson, again was puzzled, as he stood from the bed, "What do you mean you're not sleeping here? Where will you sleep?"
A profound sigh escaped her lips and she turned to face him, "I don't know, Orson. On the couch, in the guest room, just not in here," she said to him bleakly.
"But… why?" He asked innocently, as if he didn't already know.
A frown filled Bree's face and she glared at him, her tone becoming louder and sharper, "What do you mean why!? Orson, have you not been paying attention to how much I can't stand to be around you? Are you really that selfish?"
"Bree, I can see this relationship progressing. We just need to give it a little more time--" As he started to speak, Bree cut him off.
"Me moving out of our bedroom is not progress, Orson. Don't you see? I don't love you and I probably wont ever love you again," Bree stated bluntly, no matter how much she hated saying these things to him, she had to make him understand. She needed to get her point through his thick skull that there was no fixing the relationship they were in. It had already been shattered into a million pieces.
Orson blinked, not taking his gaze off of the serious look on Bree's face, "I heard the word probably," He said buoyantly.
"Never," Bree changed the word quickly.
"Remember Bree, either we fix this… or I make a phone call to the police."
Bree looked daggers at him, then her face filled with hopelessness, "Orson, let me ask you something," there was only a short paused in between her sentences, "Do you love me?"
Orson stepped closer to her, still quite a few feet away, "Of course I do. I love you more than anything in the world, Bree."
"See, I don't think I can believe that," She shook her head, "How in the world could you send the woman you love to prison?"
"I would do anything to keep you with me, Bree. I can't lose you."
"Don't you want me to be happy?" Bree asked, her expression remained the same, but her tone changed into virtually a whisper.
"Yes, but I want you to be happy… with me," Orson said, stepping a few feet closer.
"I used to be. I used to love you, because you believed in me. Because you thought I could do anything I set my mind to. You seen past all of my flaws, and you loved me for me. But now, Orson," She stopped, shaking her head and letting out a breath, "You've changed. Into someone I don't recognize, and I just don't love you anymore. I stopped loving you a long time ago. You can continue pretending we are getting better, but you know we're not. If you love me as much as you say you, let me go. Let me be happy, Orson. Please."
With that, Bree turned away from Orson, the pillow still tucked underneath her arm, she went downstairs. She hoped now that Orson finally understood her feelings, and accepted them. She supposed she would find out in the morning…