The Gallagher House.
"Shit!" Lip yelled, his face draining of color as he saw it happen.
Carl's expression changed instantly, tension gripping him.
Monica screamed frantically, "Fiona! Fiona!"
It was worth noting that even on Frank's ugly mug, a very clear sense of gravity appeared in that instant.
The one who reacted fastest was Frank.
Frank abruptly tossed the joint from his fingers, shoved aside the screaming Monica who was clutching Fiona, and squatted beside his daughter. With a solemn face, he reached out to check her breathing.
She was breathing, just a little faintly. Not a major problem.
The next second, without hesitation, Frank raised his hand and slapped Fiona hard across the face.
Smack!
Simple and brutal, but the effect was remarkably significant.
Instantly, Fiona was startled awake by the pain, her eyes snapping open.
Seeing this, Frank didn't say a word. He moved nimbly to pick up the joint he had just thrown away and started smoking again. However, his gaze remained on Fiona, his look becoming extremely complicated.
The truth was, Comrade Frank—narcissist that he was—indeed loved himself the most. He only wanted to live freely and happily, sure. But that didn't stop him from feeling genuine gratitude deep down for how Fiona took care of these kids.
So, watching Fiona pass out from the sheer stress of this mess, Frank's mood was, for once, genuinely heavy.
Fiona came to, her cheek burning. She instinctively raised a hand to touch it, then looked up, her eyes blurry with tears, scanning the faces of Carl, Lip, Monica, and Frank.
After looking at them, Fiona silently got up. Gritting her teeth, she walked toward the stairs. One step, two steps, three steps...
Seeing this, Monica instinctively opened her mouth in panic, "Fiona..."
Hearing her, Frank immediately reached out and grabbed Monica's arm. When she turned around, he shook his head at her, signaling her to shut up.
Monica understood. After a brief hesitation, she closed her mouth.
Lip and Carl said nothing either, just watching Fiona head upstairs.
Gradually.
Fiona went up the stairs and disappeared from their view.
This silent, wordless Fiona was a stranger to all four of them.
Lip and Carl were young; they didn't know how to process it or what to think for a moment.
Monica was never normal to begin with, she was just anxious and worried...
Frank was different.
Frank had experienced too much messy sht in his life. He knew exactly what state Fiona was in. He took another drag of his joint and spoke to Lip and Carl. "You two go wherever you need to go. Don't worry, Fiona will be fine."
"Let her have a good sleep. She'll be better tomorrow."
"Monica and I will stay here."
Hearing this.
This version of Frank was also very strange to Lip. Lip couldn't help but look at Liam with concern. After a brief hesitation, he said, "I'll stay and take care of Liam."
"Suit yourself," Frank really didn't care if Lip stayed or not. Saying that, he moved his body and plopped down onto the sofa to watch TV.
Monica sat down next to Frank, asking with a face full of worry, "Fiona will be okay, right?"
Frank smiled faintly and nodded. "She'll be fine. Once she sleeps and thinks it through, she'll be good."
Lip was smart. He knew that if Frank actually got serious, stopped acting like a fool, and wasn't being such a scumbag, he was actually quite sharp. So, Lip instinctively frowned, his gaze turning solemn as he looked toward the second floor.
Think it through?
Think what through?
Matters concerning this family?
In no time, connecting it to what Fiona had said not long ago—"I don't care anymore"...
Uncontrollably, panic rose in Lip's heart. Feeling uneasy, he sat back in the armchair. Then, purely out of instinct, he pulled out his cigarettes, lit one, and took a harsh drag.
Lip was terrified that tomorrow morning, when Fiona woke up, she would do exactly what Frank said: choose to give up on this family.
The reason was simple.
They argued, they fought.
Fundamentally, Lip's fights with Fiona, his moving out, his resentment toward her—the root of it all was that he had nothing to fear. He took her for granted.
Lip had always assumed this family would always be here, that it wouldn't truly scatter.
But if Fiona really gave up...
Then, from the moment she chose to quit, this family would be gone... After all, besides Fiona, who else would hold this house together?
Lip couldn't even imagine the result of losing this home for a moment. He couldn't stop the panic from growing, and he smoked much faster.
Carl stood behind the sofa, watching the three of them. After a good while, he shook his head and silently walked away.
Carl had limited intelligence and didn't think of the things Lip was thinking about. He just didn't want to stay here right now...
Unknowingly, the only sound left in the Gallagher living room was the TV.
Second Floor.
Fiona curled up in bed, crying silently.
Outside the small window, Little Black kept his dark eyes open, watching quietly.
---
Chicago, Downtown, a Movie Theater.
Dexter sensed the feedback from Little Black. Honestly, he felt a twinge of pity.
He hadn't expected Fiona to be so heartbroken that she actually passed out...
How many times has Fiona curled up in bed and cried now? Dexter wondered silently. He couldn't remember the specific number, but it felt like it had to be over ten times.
Truly pathetic.
Hopefully, there will be some changes this time, Dexter thought. Then, he remembered the affordable restaurant he was planning to open.
I should hurry up and get that done.
Dexter pondered silently for a while, then stopped his train of thought, calmed his mind, and focused on watching the movie with Bianca.
Time flew by.
After the movie, Dexter and Bianca walked arm in arm, leaving the theater and strolling through the streets of Chicago under the brilliant neon lights.
The night grew deeper.
The two went home, showered, and rested, ending this happy day.
---
In the blink of an eye.
The east turned white; the morning sun began to rise.
Fiona, who rarely had the chance to sleep for so long in one go—and to sleep so deeply—opened her eyes and woke up.
Immediately, feeling discomfort in her eyes, she raised a hand to rub them.
Her eyes were swollen.
Fiona suddenly smiled.
She laughed to herself for a little while, then got out of bed, picked up her cigarettes and lighter, and walked to the landing outside the second floor. Looking at the dawn sky, she lit a cigarette and smoked leisurely.
As she smoked, Fiona inexplicably felt very light. It felt as if the heavy burden on her body had suddenly vanished.
This feeling was wonderful.
Yes.
Fiona had thought it through. And she had made up her mind.
It wasn't worth draining herself dry and living a life worse than death for those kids.
Those days had reached their end.
Fiona would continue to do the basic things she was supposed to do, but that would be it.
"It's time to live for myself," Fiona exhaled a plume of smoke, muttering to herself with a smile.