Chapter 2

The following morning Lynette made a quick trip across the street to check on her neighbor as she had promised. The blonde gently knocked on the door. No response. She knocked again, this time with a bit more force. "Bree?", she called from the outside. Still no answer. Finally, she opened the door herself. "Hey, its me!" she shouted. Lynette slowly made her way through the entrance of Bree's home. Everything seemed to be in perfect order until she caught a glimpse of the kitchen. Broken dishes were scattered across the floor, the whole room in shambles.

"What the…" Lynette mumbled to herself. "Bree!" she began to grow worried. However, before she had the chance to make herself crazy, she found her good friend and neighbor still fast asleep on the couch in the family room. Her hair was uncombed, her face pale, and her nightgown stained. Lynette also took notice to a few drops of dried blood on Bree's hands, likely from an attempt to pick up pieces of broken glass.

Lynette gently approached the redhead, not wanting to startle her. She nudged her arm, causing Bree to stir. Yet rather than opening her eyes, she simply shifted positions in order to avoid Lynette. "Hey…no, no. You need to wake up, Bree." She sounded as if she were trying to get one of her children out of bed.

Bree squinted. "Lynette? What…what are you doing in my house?" She was clearly confused. She tried to sit up, grimacing from the shooting pain in her head. "What time is it?"

"Around 10:30. And just to answer your question, you told me to be here."

"What are you talking about? I haven't spoken to you in a couple days." Bree replied, massaging her temples.

"Actually, you called me around 2 a.m. asking if I could help you 'clean up' a mess you had made." there was a pang of frustration in Lynette's voice, though it was overpowered by her growing concern.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I've got a lot of things to do today and I've already overslept. So if you could just be on your way..."

"Okay." Lynette backed off, "But before I go, why don't you try and make yourself breakfast."

"Lynette, I'm not all that hungry."

"Go make yourself breakfast, Bree."

"Lynette!" she was not in the mood to tolerate her neighbor's attitude.

"Do it." her voice was stern.

Bree obeyed her friend, slowing rising from the couch. "Fine. I don't know what your problem is today, but I really don't appreciate it!" She felt achy, dizzy, and a bit faint as well. She had absolutely no appetite, and breakfast was probably the last thing on her mind. Bree approached the kitchen, and as soon as she caught her first glimpse at the disaster area that it had become, she simply froze. She didn't scream, she just stood there, eyes wide, staring at the mess.

Lynette came behind her. "Do you want to explain what happened here?" she asked gently, no longer showing signs of anger.

Bree could barely speak. "I…I don't. Andrew? Did he do this?"

"You really don't know?"

"Well, I certainly wouldn't do something like this!" the redhead grew offensive.

"Okay, okay. Why don't you sit down and tell me what you remember from last night." Lynette led her fragile friend to the closest seat.

"Well," Bree desperately tried to recollect the happenings of the previous night. Unfortunately, her mind was drawing a blank. "I don't know."

Although Lynette wanted to believe her, it was relatively obvious that Bree was hiding something. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"Whoever said I needed help?"

"Bree. Not now. Tell me what happened."

After a brief hesitation, Bree began. "Andrew and I had a fight. He said he hated me which, mind you, is nothing new. I think he enjoys making me feel like the most monstrous woman alive. So he stormed out of here and went-" she paused, glancing across the room. "Lord knows where."

"I'm so sorry." Lynette's voice was incredibly sympathetic.

"Why are you apologizing? It's not your doing, and he isn't your son."

Lynette just shook her head. "Do you remember what happened next?"

"No.", and although she very easily could have been lying, Lynette saw the painful truth which lurked within Bree's eyes.

"Well, I think I know what might have gone on here. You were very upset, and rightfully so! You had a little too much to drink, and then something set you off, leading you to basically destroy your kitchen."

"Lynette, I was not drinking last night." Bree attempted to fight an uphill battle. "I wasn't."

And though Lynette knew the truth of Bree's behavior, she also saw a few tears lingering deep inside her friend's bright eyes. "Okay. I believe you." she replied. "Lets clean up this mess then."

Bree silently nodded. "I'm just going to change first, alright?"

"Sure."

And as Bree headed upstairs, she looked down and saw the traces of blood on her hands. She had been drinking too much and she knew it. She stared down at her stained palms and whispered, "…innocent until proven guilty."