thanks again for the reviews!

and to kiraturner (i forget your name on here..ahh im sorry) yup- same one! haha cross-posting is fun;)

Bree's cries subsided eventually, with only a few stray tears lingering on her flushed cheeks. She had completely exhausted herself both physically and emotionally. Her body ached from the utter abuse it had just been exposed to. She felt herself shaking, and would occasionally tense her muscles, only making matters worse. Bree was concentrating so heavily on regaining control over her body, that she barely even noticed when Lynette gently moved her back onto the couch. She felt herself sink into the cushions, which were much more comfortable than the hard floor. As she looked up, she saw Lynette cover her with a blanket. Although Bree didn't actually want to sleep, her body's needs took control over her mentality.

"You need your strength back." Lynette gently stated, brushing a few stray hairs out of the redhead's face. "Please get some rest."

Bree brought her hand up to Lynette's; squeezing it lightly. "Lynette." she spoke, her voice weak and hoarse. "I don't…I don't hate you.", and with that, she felt her eyes beginning to close- allowing her to finally fall into a deep sleep.

"I know." Lynette replied, forcing a small but appreciative smile.

Andrew Van De Kamp had positioned himself a few feet away from the top of the stairs when Bree's rant first began. Her voice had woken him up and he initially planned to go downstairs and start an argument with her, until he realized what was going on. Andrew forced himself to just sit back and listen to the entirety of his mother's breakdown. There were many times he was tempted to just get up and walk away- to go into his room, lock the door, and play his music as loud as possible- but he couldn't. Andrew had never heard anyone sob with such an extreme force, let alone his own mother. As much as it scared him, he was drawn to her cries; amazed to witness such powerful emotion. It actually relieved Andrew to hear his mother cry…to know that he wasn't the only one in such agony.

The relief he had felt, however, was soon overcome by guilt. He heard his mother scream how he and Danielle would have preferred her to die rather than their father. He tried to convince himself that this wasn't true…but unfortunately Bree was correct- he would have preferred it if she had died. Andrew loved his father. They were team. Together, Bree's wrath couldn't hurt either one of them. Now, however, he was left to fend for himself and he hated both his mother and father for that. Nonetheless, he had enough sense to remember one important message his father had taught him. "Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer".

He glanced downstairs and saw his mother curled up on the couch. She was sleeping in the fetal position. Never in his life had Andrew actually watched his mother sleep, but he always assumed she slept perfectly still on her back, hands folded neatly across her chest. He was in fact partially correct. Bree typically fell asleep in such a position, but as soon as she was completely asleep, her body would naturally shift into a fetal position. She looked so helpless…so completely torn apart. He would watch her occasionally stir, but she never woke. It was at this moment that the inner demons within Andrew were fighting a fierce battle. Part of him hated his mother immensely. He wanted her to suffer. He wanted her to pay. Yet part of him felt sorry for her…part of him wanted to be the one telling her everything would work out…that it would all be okay somehow. Andrew sat at the top of the stairs for about an hour more- watching his mother sleep peacefully, while he fought the battle within.

As peaceful as she may have appeared, the matters going on inside of Bree's mind were overwhelmingly complex. She was beginning to dream- the stage of the night which she had always dreaded. Bree could not even remember the last time she had a pleasant dream. All of the aggression and pain she built up during the day would be released through her subconscious, causing many painful nights. Tonight, however, was somewhat different.

"Bree." she recognized the voice, instantly whirling around to see her husband.

"Rex. You look-" she could not even find the words. She had never seen her husband look better.

"Heavenly?" he joked. "No pun intended."
"Come home, baby" she stated. Bree was not begging.

Rex simply shook his head. "I can't do that."

"But I need you. Don't you know how much I need you." If there were any tears left inside of Bree, they would have surfaced at this point.

"You're stronger than you think you are."

"Strength and joy have nothing to do with each other…and…Rex, I don't think I can find happiness without you. I don't think I have it in me, I-"

"Happiness is just a state of mind, Bree."

She could only nod solemnly. "Why'd you have to leave so soon?" she asked.

"My time, I guess." He slowly walked toward her, cupping her face. His hands felt cold, yet smooth.

"I love you" her voice sounded as if she were questioning herself.

"I know…and I forgive you."

"For what?"

"Everything." he smiled, turning away.

"For what, Rex? What did I do?"

"Don't worry about it. It's over."

"Rex, please. Just stay with me a while longer." her eyes burned with nonexistent tears.

But Rex couldn't stay. He didn't even answer Bree. He just disappeared…leaving her in a completely empty setting with no surroundings. Nothing to clean, nothing distract herself with. She was in a world of complete emptiness.