Shattered Perfection

Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away.

-Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Chapter 1

It was a fairly typical night. The air still, the stars dim, the moon dull. Aside from the few streetlamps that lined the road, there was very little light shed on Wisteria Lane. In fact, if one were to look down the quiet street, they would see nothing more than a pattern of dark houses. However, there was a light beaming from one particular home; that of Bree Van de Kamp.

Bree was roaming around her kitchen with a full glass of wine, occasionally bumping into any piece of furniture that was in her way. She had a ridiculous fight with her son earlier in the evening which caused him to storm out. She hadn't a clue where he went, but assumed that he was with the boy she had forbidden from entering her home. Danielle, on the other hand, claimed to be sleeping at a friend's house, though Bree doubted her story too. Her children were not very good liars.

The redhead could not remember how many drinks she had throughout the night. She, being a well-educated woman, knew the legal alcohol limit. She also knew when 'enough was enough'. Yet she wouldn't allow herself to stop drinking until her body felt completely numb, and unfortunately there was still a small amount of pain which lived inside her. No matter how much she had to drink, the pain would never completely disappear.

"Stop." Bree scolded herself. "You don't need this," she swung the half empty bottle of wine in front her face. "It isn't doing any…whoops!" she exclaimed, spilling a dash of wine on her already stained beige nightgown. She pathetically attempted to blot the stain. Multi-tasking, however, was not the best idea considering Bree's mental state. While trying to wipe out the stain, she clumsily dropped the entire bottle of wine on her immaculate kitchen floor.

Bree watched the bottle shatter into a million pieces, and was lucky that she didn't cut herself with the glass. Immediately, out of instinct, she bent down to pick up the pieces. However, she soon realized that all her years of cleaning up every mess she made did absolutely nothing for her. She stared at the broken glass in front of her, and rather than cleaning, she picked up a fairly large bowl, throwing it to the floor as well.

After taking a long, deep breath, Bree opened up her kitchen cabinet, reaching for whatever she could get her hands on, and smashing it onto the floor. It was at this moment that Bree felt as if she had stepped outside of herself. The little bit of rationale left in her mind allowed her conscience to essentially watch from afar. She saw a woman shattering bowls, plates, and glasses all over the floor and could not even recognize who it was. All she knew was that this woman had reached a dangerous stage of unhappiness. Although it would appear as if such destructive behavior would not have any benefits, the pain which the wine could not alleviate, did seem to slightly lessen.

Bree reached for a large dinner plate, "I put meals on the table for you every night of your life, Andrew!" she screamed, slamming the plate onto the cold floor. She then reached for a bowl, "…and I trusted you. You made me believe in you." she began speaking to George Williams. "And Rex." she managed to mutter, reaching for another plate, "…you left me here with nothing." and with that, she shattered the last plate she could reach.

The redhead stared at the mess she made, and as soon as she felt a drop of warmth trailing down her left cheek, she left the room and collapsed onto the couch. She did not cry, she simply sat down for about 10 minutes. She couldn't think about what she did because her mind was racing in far too many directions. She focused herself on a family portrait, and when that became to much to bear, she stood up and looked into the kitchen. Upon seeing the mess she made, Bree did something that she never would have done had she been sober. She reached for the telephone, and dialed the first number which was on speed dial, preparing to ask for help.

Lynette Scavo grimaced as she heard the phone ringing in her bedroom. It was about 2 am, and although she did not have to wake up for work the next day, she treasured the little sleep she could get. She groggily reached past Tom who, as she put it, could sleep through an earthquake.

"Hello." her voice was scratchy as she answered the phone.

"Oh. Hi, Lynette!" Bree felt a sense of comfort when her neighbor answered the phone. "Did you know you're the first person on my speed dial?"

"Bree?" the blonde was slightly confused as to why Bree would be calling her in the middle of the night. "Are you okay?"
"I… made a little meth." she chuckled, "Oh, heavens no! I mean mess. I made a mess." It was fairly obvious that Bree had too much to drink.

"What are you talking about?" Lynette was in no mood for this. "Have you been drinking?"

"No, no, no. I don't drink. I was just wondering if you could help me clean up." her voice trailed off.

"Now? Bree, it's 2 a.m. Go to sleep. I'll help you in the morning." and with that, Lynette hung up the phone.

"Hello?…Hello?" Bree continued speaking into the phone. "Fine. I'll just do it myself then", but as she went to find the dustpan that was hidden somewhere in her home, she made a quick stop and passed out on the couch.