Juvenile Detention Center. The Rec Yard.
Debbie sat on a bench in the corner of the playground, head tilted back, staring blankly at the sky.
It had been seven days.
Fiona, Ian... her family had only visited once. They hadn't come back since.
When was the next visit?
A week? Two weeks? A month?
Debbie smiled, but as the corners of her mouth turned up, the expression curdled into something hateful.
Is this what family is?
Show up once, check the box to say you did your duty, and that's it?
The more Debbie thought about it, the more resentful she became. Her eyes grew sharp and cold.
After a while, a guard walked over. "Gallagher. Shrink time."
Debbie snapped out of her daze, looked at the guard, paused for two seconds, then silently stood up and followed.
A few minutes later, she walked into the psychologist's office and sat wordlessly on the sofa across from him.
The doctor smiled at Debbie—a warm, disarming smile—and opened her file. "Debbie, let's pick up where we left off last time. Tell me more about your family."
Debbie didn't hate this shrink. And since she was currently pissed off at her family anyway, she didn't hold back. She started talking.
Once she started, she couldn't stop.
The doctor listened silently, occasionally jotting down notes.
The content in Debbie's file grew thicker.
Phrases like "psychological distortion," "extremely toxic home environment," and "brothers and sisters with severe behavioral issues" began to fill the pages.
When Debbie finally ran out of steam, the doctor thought for a moment before speaking in a gentle voice. "Debbie, do you think the reason you kidnapped that little boy has anything to do with your family?"
Debbie couldn't wrap her head around such a complex question. She frowned. "What kind of connection?"
"Your brother Lip, your sister Fiona... they often do things that cross the line, even break the law. Do you think their behavior influenced you?" the doctor asked.
Debbie still didn't quite get it. "That's because we're poor. They have to do those things."
Although the answer didn't quite address the core of the question, the doctor didn't mind. He smiled and tried again. "You mentioned that you started stealing milk, newspapers, and other necessities when you were very young..."
"In your view, you had to steal because the family was poor, right?"
Debbie understood that much. She nodded. "Right. That's what Lip says. For us poor people to survive, to live a good life, we have to steal and scam."
The doctor immediately scribbled that quote down in the file.
After thinking it over, the doctor smiled again. "Debbie, both last time and today, you've mentioned many times that your family is poor."
"Let's talk about exactly how poor your family is, okay?"
Debbie had no objection. "Okay."
"Tell me where the poverty shows up most," the doctor said, handing the floor back to her.
Debbie didn't hesitate. She started yapping again, listing everything off.
The doctor listened while taking detailed notes, recording every expense Debbie mentioned regarding the Gallagher household.
About ten minutes later.
Debbie stopped talking.
The doctor didn't speak immediately. instead, he looked at his notes and did some mental math.
It didn't take long.
He had a result.
The doctor had grown up in a poor family with a lot of siblings, too. Back then, they scrimped and saved, and life was truly hard.
So, even though Debbie couldn't give exact dollar amounts for every expense, the doctor could make a rough estimate.
And the estimate was... interesting.
Was the Gallagher family poor?
Yes, definitely.
But a part of that poverty was actually avoidable.
Take the waste, for example...
Food, electricity, daily supplies...
The Gallaghers seemed to have zero concept of conservation. It was a contradiction: they were broke, yet they tried to live like a normal family, wanting the same quality of life as people with actual money.
Fiona worked multiple jobs, Ian had a job, Lip used his smarts to hustle cash occasionally, and Carl even stole from church donation boxes.
When you added it all up, the Gallagher monthly income wasn't actually that low—at least, not obscenely low.
But because they had no budget plan and didn't know how to save, they stayed broke, which led them to steal and scam more...
So.
Was the Gallagher family truly so destitute that a child like Debbie had to be mentally twisted to this extent?
No.
Thinking of this, the doctor sighed silently.
In reality, he had seen this pattern many times.
People would get money and immediately blow it—eating, drinking, living it up. They'd burn through a month's worth of living expenses in no time, then cry about being broke, complain that the world was unfair, and use poverty as an excuse for criminal behavior.
If you're broke, live like you're broke.
Cut your coat according to your cloth.
The doctor realized that Debbie's treatment needed a shift in strategy. He couldn't come at it from the angle of "poverty" anymore. He had to target the family members themselves.
In other words.
The doctor intended to show Debbie just how serious the problems with Lip and Fiona really were.
"Thank you, Debbie. I understand now. So, let's talk about Fiona," the doctor said with a smile.
Debbie didn't suspect a thing. She honestly answered, starting to spill the beans on Fiona.
---
Shortly after 3:00 PM.
A beat-up pickup truck rattled to a halt in front of the Gallagher house.
Lip, leaning on his crutches, slowly climbed out. He stood on the pavement, looked at the familiar house, and grinned. A wave of nostalgia hit him.
Home, sweet home!
It felt damn good to see the place after so many days.
Lip stared for a few seconds before turning around. He grabbed his backpack—stuffed with contraband—threw it on the ground, and gave the driver a casual nod. "Catch you later, Wally."
Wally raised a hand in a cool wave, didn't say a word, slammed on the gas, and sped off.
Lip didn't care. He didn't waste a second. He immediately strained his neck and yelled toward the house, "Fiona! Fiona!"
Fiona was on the living room couch watching TV with Liam. Hearing Lip's familiar voice, she jumped up, electrified, and sprinted out the door.
Quickly.
Fiona shouldered the backpack full of smuggled goods. Her mouth moving a mile a minute asking if he was okay, she carefully helped him inside.
Once inside, Lip collapsed onto the sofa, letting out a long, heavy breath. "Finally back."
Fiona beamed, her smile stretching ear to ear. "It's good to have you back. Really good."
The siblings chattered excitedly for a bit.
Then, business mode kicked in.
"Fiona, priorities first. Go deliver the stuff in the bag," Lip said, cutting the small talk short.
Fiona paused for a second, then opened the backpack to peek inside. "Right. I'm on it."
"Yeah. Also, let me use your phone. I gotta call Karen," Lip said. After so many days without getting laid, he missed Karen terribly.
Fiona really didn't like Karen, but she understood her brother's... needs. After a brief hesitation, she pulled out her phone and handed it over. "Remember to use protection, okay?"
"I know, I know. Just go," Lip said impatiently.
Fiona didn't say another word. She hoisted the backpack and hurried out the door to make the delivery.