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The Gallagher House.
Clutching the bottle, Fiona stood there for a long, long time. Finally, with bloodshot eyes and gritted teeth, she sobered up. Making a hard decision, she turned the bottle upside down and poured every last drop of alcohol down the sink.
"Fxxk! Fxxk! Fxxk!"
After emptying the bottle, she threw it aside and let out a frantic scream. She hated herself, hated this life, hated this world!
Then, Fiona walked briskly to the sofa, collapsed onto it, and closed her eyes.
She lay there for about two hours.
Finally, Fiona opened her eyes, got up, took a deep breath, and went out to look for work.
Jobs were out there, but they were the bottom-of-the-barrel, disgusting, dirty gigs usually reserved for criminals and the lowest rung of society.
Last time, she had convinced herself she wasn't that kind of person and hadn't even considered them.
This time, she let go of her meaningless—and frankly, laughable—pride.
Consequently, it didn't take long for her to land her first job.
Fiona didn't stop there; she kept looking.
---
The Alibi Room.
With Kevin and Veronica's wedding approaching, Veronica's mom, Carol, sat excitedly in front of Kevin, discussing wedding details.
Kevin, being a typical guy, had little interest in these things and understood even less. But facing Carol, he couldn't refuse, so he helplessly played along.
Carol chatted with Kevin for a good while before rushing off to Dex Restaurant to find Veronica.
Seeing Carol leave, Kevin let out a sigh of relief. "Weddings are such a hassle."
Kermit, who had just walked in, nodded in agreement despite never having experienced one himself, pretending to be an expert. "It's all stuff women come up with. Women love this crap."
Kevin grinned, fully agreeing. "You got that right... by the way, don't tell Veronica I said that."
Kermit laughed. "No problem... Did you hear? After Frank left here last night, someone chopped his right arm off."
Kevin was shocked. "Jesus! Seriously?"
Kermit nodded repeatedly. "I heard it from a cop not long ago. Don't know who did it. The weird thing is, after the guy chopped Frank's arm off, he not only bandaged the wound but also packed the severed half of the arm in ice and left it right next to Frank."
Kevin couldn't process this immediately. It took him a few seconds to understand. "To make reattachment surgery easier?"
"Yeah," Kermit replied. "That's what the cop said. They think the attacker didn't want to kill Frank, just torture him."
"Jesus Christ, who's that ruthless?" Kevin gasped, then paused. "Then again, for someone like Frank, getting tortured makes sense."
Kermit agreed. "Yeah, the cops said the same thing. They said it's almost impossible to find the culprit because there are too many suspects."
The two lamented over it for a bit before ending the topic.
Frank's misfortune was just gossip, practically a joke.
In the Alibi Room, no one who knew Frank felt any sympathy for him.
---
The Hospital.
The reattachment surgery went smoothly. Frank, now reunited with his severed arm, was suddenly woken up by an intense, searing pain.
"Motherfxxk!! Ow, ow, ow!!" Frank opened his eyes and immediately started screaming.
His screams were so loud that a young nurse outside the ward heard him and rushed in.
By now, Frank had sat up, which naturally made the pain even more excruciating. "Ah!! It hurts! It hurts! Give me painkillers! Give me painkillers!!"
Seeing this, the nurse didn't dare delay. She quickly pressed the call button by the bed to summon other nurses and doctors. Then, while gently trying to push Frank back down, she explained, "You're in the hospital. You just had surgery not long ago. You absolutely cannot move around."
Frank was in too much pain to process this immediately. After a moment, it clicked. "Why am I in the hospital? What happened to me?"
"Half of your right arm was chopped off. Don't move," the nurse said urgently.
Frank grimaced in pain, turning his head slightly to look at his right arm. "What the fxxk!"
Just as he cursed, the doctor walked briskly into the ward, glanced at Frank, and shook his head.
"Just as I thought, he's built up a tolerance. Woke up so fast," the doctor said while walking to the machine beside the bed. He pressed a few buttons, increasing Frank's morphine dosage.
Frank saw this and his eyes instantly filled with longing. "More. Give me more. A little more."
The nurse was speechless.
The doctor, having dealt with Frank more than once, remained calm. "Frank, while you're lucid, let me explain the situation."
"Half your right arm was severed. After several hours of emergency surgery, we managed to reattach it."
"However, due to various factors, your right arm will definitely not be as dexterous as before. We estimate that, in the best-case scenario, your arm will recover fifty percent of its normal function."
"..."
The doctor explained everything as simply and clearly as possible. "In short, you need to stay here for at least half a month. During this time, do not move your right arm. Do you understand?"
Frank understood.
Although he was shocked by the fact that his arm had been chopped off, Frank decisively set that shock aside. He immediately feigned extreme agony and yelled, "I get it, now give me the meds! Oxy..."
Frank rattled off a list of drug names, sounding as familiar with them as a doctor.
The doctor smiled after hearing him out. "Frank, don't try that with me. Aside from the necessary medication, you won't get a single extra pill."
Hearing this, Frank was furious. He immediately turned hostile and started cursing, "Fxxk you! Are you even a doctor? How can you..."
The doctor ignored him, simply waiting quietly for Frank to pass out.
Dozens of seconds later.
Frank's cursing grew quieter and quieter until it disappeared.
Frank was out cold.
Seeing this, the doctor turned to the young nurse. "Keep a close eye on him. The moment he finds an opportunity, he will try to steal drugs, even from other patients. Do not let that happen."
The nurse's eyes went wide. "What kind of person is he?"
The doctor smiled faintly. "A piece of trash who would be kicked out of every hospital in Chicago without hesitation if the law didn't require us to treat emergencies."
"..." The nurse was silent, genuinely feeling like she had learned something new about the world.
The doctor said no more and left the ward.
---
Evening.
Dex Restaurant.
Seeing Carl, Dexter asked about the situation at the Gallagher house.
Carl truthfully recounted everything he knew.
Fiona had impressively lost her job because she slept with the store manager...
Steve was gone...
Lip dropped out of school because of Karen...
There was still no TV at home...
It was a chaotic list of events, though for the Gallaghers, this was just a normal Tuesday.
"You've really had it rough," Dexter said, reaching out to pat Carl's head.
Carl didn't necessarily feel it was rough, just that all this crap was annoying.
After chatting a while longer, Carl left the restaurant and returned to the Gallagher house.
Dexter went back to work, doing what he needed to do.
Now, Frank was in the hospital, and Fiona had pretty much ruined herself. She would either struggle successfully and climb out of the pit, or sink further and end up back in jail...
Lip, that idiot, was being played like a fiddle by Karen—pathetic, sad, and lamentable...
Ian was with Mickey; their future would likely be a mix of sweetness and hardship...
"Time to take a break," Dexter muttered to himself. He didn't plan on messing with the Gallaghers for a while. He decided to enjoy life—and the beauty of fxxking—with Bianca.
---
The Gallagher House.
Fiona used the leftover food in the fridge to make a rather sumptuous dinner.
Carl and the others entered the house one by one.
Fiona smiled guiltily, welcoming them each in turn.
Before long, the family of six was seated around the dining table.
Fiona didn't waste time. She proactively and ingratiatingly explained her day: she had found three jobs in total—two part-time gigs during the day, and a full-time night job waitressing at a club, which involved showing some skin.
"I just hit a few bumps yesterday, but I'm better now..." Finally, Fiona looked at Lip and said.
Lip still wore that punchable, superior expression. "Let time prove it."
Fiona actually hated hearing that; it stung. But at a time like this, she couldn't really say anything back, so she just nodded patiently. "Okay."
Debbie felt bad for Fiona. "Fiona, you really can't do that again... if you're not careful, you'll get sent back to jail."
Fiona nodded again. "Yeah, I know."
Carl chimed in. "So when do we get a TV?"
Hearing this, Fiona felt terrible for Carl. She thought for a moment and bit the bullet. "Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll use the credit card to buy a cheaper TV. I'll pay it back when I get my paycheck."
"Cool," Carl smiled happily. Then, after a slight hesitation, he pulled out the nineteen dollars he had earned at the Alibi Room that night and handed it to Fiona. "This is what I made tonight. Here."
Fiona's nose stung with emotion, and she habitually said the wrong thing. "Carl, don't go to the Alibi to make money anymore. You're still young. All kinds of people are there; you'll get hurt."
Carl couldn't be bothered to listen to that and ignored her completely.
Fiona persisted with a few more words of advice, but seeing Carl remain silent, she helplessly gave up. She turned to Lip, trying to sound gentle. "Lip, about school..."
Fiona had barely gotten a sentence out before Lip ruthlessly cut her off. "That's my business. It has nothing to do with you. Worry about yourself."
Maybe she could let Carl earning money at the Alibi slide for now.
But Lip dropping out of school made Fiona burn with anxiety. She couldn't just stand by, so regardless of Lip's attitude, she insisted on trying to persuade him...
Debbie joined in trying to convince him too.
Ian had tried during the day and got punched in the stomach for his trouble. Now... heh, screw that.
Ian didn't say a word. He ate his dinner quietly, wiped his mouth, and left to find Mickey.
Fiona kept trying to talk to Lip.
Lip got incredibly annoyed. With a dark face, he went upstairs, lay on his bed, took out his phone, and texted Karen.
In the dining room on the first floor.
Fiona didn't know what to do. She felt awful.
Debbie was panicked and anxious but could do almost nothing. She simply reached out, grabbed Fiona's hand, and comforted her with hope. "Lip will come around."
Carl didn't care about any of this. With no TV to watch, he was bored, so he grabbed his paintball gun and slipped out the back door to play by himself.
---
Under the bleachers outside the school track.
Post-workout.
Mickey smoked a cigarette, silent for a moment. He ultimately couldn't let the Dexter thing go.
For the past two nights, Mickey had felt several impulsive urges to go kill Dexter, but due to various concerns, he hadn't actually acted on them.
"I wanna clip Dexter!" Mickey suddenly said.
Ian was stunned. "Why?"
"He seems to know about us," Mickey said, looking at Ian. "You come with me to take him out!"
"?????" Ian doubted his ears for a second. After a few seconds, he snapped out of it and laughed. "I'm not going. If he knows, he knows. There's no need to kill him."
"Fxxk you," Mickey cursed, instantly annoyed. "You won't go? I'll go myself."
"Don't. Don't be stupid," Ian hurriedly tried to stop him.
Being the stubborn, defensive guy he was, Mickey wasn't about to listen. He started to leave.
Ian had to grab Mickey's arm. "So what if he knows? As long as he doesn't blab, it's fine. Don't be impulsive. I'll handle this. I'll go talk to him tomorrow."
Mickey really just wanted to kill Dexter... actually doing it? He didn't have the guts or the nerve.
But, you know, posturing is part of the package.
True to his nature, Mickey insisted toughly for a while longer before relenting slightly. "If you don't fix it, I'm gonna kill him!"
Ian nodded. "Okay, I promise to fix it."
The two talked for a while longer, then seeing it was getting late, went their separate ways.
---
After a busy day.
Bianca got off work early today, so Dexter and Bianca strolled downtown and went shopping.
Bianca was different from the people in the South Side; she didn't have so much baggage.
The two got along very well—or rather, very normally.
They shopped until 11 PM, then returned to Dexter's hotel to shower and rest.
On the big bed.
They vented their youthful energy.
Everything was good.
On the other side of town.
Lying alone on a small bed in a small room, Fiona tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep.
After struggling for a long time.
Fiona gritted her teeth, got up, grabbed her cigarettes and phone, and walked out the back door. She lit a cigarette, took a few hard drags, and scrolled to Steve's number.
She hesitated and struggled with herself for a long time before dialing.
The ringback tone sounded for a few seconds.
Steve answered the phone, but said nothing.
Fiona moved her lips several times before making a sound. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me..."
Hearing this, Steve thought for a moment before speaking in a very calm tone. "Since it's come to this, I'll be straight with you."
"Those kids put too much pressure on you. Over the years, your psychology has become warped. You've grown to enjoy that pressure; you can't live without it."
"But stress is stress. You have to release it eventually. That's why you've become like this—unable to control yourself, a compulsive liar."
"Fiona, it's time to change. If you don't draw a line between yourself and those kids, you're only going to become more chaotic."
"Of course, that's just my personal opinion."
"Take it or leave it."
"Bye."
Steve said it all in one breath and hung up decisively.
As the dial tone buzzed in her ear, Fiona felt dazed and disoriented. Then, instinctively, she felt anger at Steve's words.
After the anger passed, she gradually calmed down.
Fiona couldn't stop thinking about all the messed-up things that had happened over the past few months...
Thinking and thinking.
Her conviction wavered.
Was it really right to constantly revolve around those kids, to have no life of her own, to treat those kids as her entire existence?
Fiona asked herself silently, not knowing where to go from here.