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"Fck!! Wha... What the hell are you doing?!"
Frank was shocked and angry, covering his mouth and roaring vaguely, trying to crawl up from the ground.
But Shane smashed another punch over! Knocking Frank to the ground again.
"Fck, you little bastard! You forced me!"
Frank had also fought when he was young. Now being beaten up by Shane like this, the rogue spirit in his heart returned.
But when he tried to prop himself up to counterattack, Shane's shadow pressed down again.
And the next dozen seconds became Frank's nightmare.
Whenever he wanted to counterattack or block, he would be easily scattered by heavier, faster punches and kicks, followed by another fist landing on his body.
After a while, Frank's arm was twisted behind his back, his weakness pinned by a knee. He was now like a fish out of water, only able to flop helplessly on the ground.
Fck... is this fcking a seventeen-year-old kid? For the first time, Frank felt things were developing in an uncontrolled direction.
Shane's strength and control completely exceeded his expectations. His little bit of street fighting experience was nothing in front of Shane's suppression.
Soon, Frank was left only panting on the ground, hurting everywhere.
But he still thought of muddling through with his old tricks. He began to beg for mercy: "OK... OK... you win, alright? You beat me, anger should be gone. Now, can you let me in? Today is Thanksgiving!"
Shane didn't speak, remaining silent.
This silence made Frank more panicked than cursing. He vaguely sensed danger.
Then, the thing Frank couldn't see clearly just now was held in Shane's hand. It was a weirdly shaped "stick" (pig prod) flashing with cold metallic light.
Before he could react much, Shane slammed the tip of the thing against the side of his neck.
Zzz—!!!
A tearing severe pain and intense muscle spasms instantly swept through his whole body!
Ah—!!!
Uh—!!
Frank's scream rushed out, but changed tune in the continuous electric current.
Being shocked, he twitched violently like a fish thrown ashore, then quickly went limp, leaving only "huk... huk..." gasping sounds in his throat, his body still shaking uncontrollably.
Shane squatted down, the shocker still pointed at his neck, and asked:
"A few days ago, what did you go into my basement for? Hands itchy again, wanted to steal things?"
Frank was shocked out of his wits by this electric shock, but still lied instinctively: "No... no! I swear! I was just... passing by! I really wanted to help you open up sales channels..."
"Passing by? 'Open up sales channels'?"
Shane repeated these two phrases spat out from Frank's mouth, and the pig prod pressed onto Frank's neck again.
"Ah—!!!"
Another burst of current capable of breaking a person down, and Frank's scream rang out again.
The second shock made his tears and snot flow together, and the crotch of his pants gradually became wet.
"The scratches on the door lock, were they gnawed by rats? The cabinet in the kitchen where money is kept, was it also rummaged by rats?" Shane questioned sharply.
"Those dirty hands of yours, besides stealing and prying, what else can they do?!"
"You steal breakfast! I'll just treat it as lost to feed dogs! But you prying the kitchen cabinet, thinking there's winter money inside that you can take freely, right?"
Shane's questioning pressed step by step, the tip of the shocker moving as if thinking about where to shock next.
"Do you think everything movable in this house—money, food, even a little hope—should eventually flow into your pocket, pour into your veins?! Speak!"
Frank was first beaten powerless to fight back, then shocked incontinent by the pig prod.
He felt this stick was even more ruthless than a police taser, the pain more concentrated, the aftereffect stronger.
Looking at Shane's ruthless expression, and then at the stick ready to shock again anytime, he was afraid now, really somewhat afraid, but selfishness cultivated over years made him still struggle.
"I... I need money! I am your dad! This family... I also have a contribution! What's wrong with taking some things! I am the pillar of the family!"
He screamed hoarsely, still wanting to grab the straw of "kinship" to quibble.
"Have a contribution? Are our father?" Shane grabbed his collar and lifted his upper body, face to face.
Shane's voice rose.
"When Fiona worked three jobs and fainted from exhaustion by the washing machine, where were you?!"
"When Lip had to steal from the supermarket to get diapers for Liam and got slapped by security in public, where the fck were you?!"
"When Debbie had to carry Liam to school in the cold wind in first grade, which stinking ditch were you lying in?! Speak!"
With every question, Shane's eyes grew a degree colder.
After the last question, he pressed the shocker again, for a shorter time, poking directly between Frank's ribs.
"Urgh ah—!"
Frank curled up in pain. Now besides urine, shit came out too. He began to fear in his heart, fearing Shane was really going to shock him to death!
Shane approached his terrified eyes and asked the final question:
"Tell me, Frank Gallagher. In your heart, what are we—Fiona, Lip, Ian, Carl, Debbie, Liam, and me—to you, exactly?"
"Conversation fodder for bragging when you're drunk? 'Props' you discard casually when scamming money?"
"Or, are we just 'troubles' accidentally left behind after your moment of pleasure! Who deserve to support you?!"
Under this severe pain, under fear and naked interrogation, Frank's tattered psychological defense finally collapsed, or perhaps he saw what answer Shane needed.
To relieve the pain, or simply out of selfishness, he smashed the jar and spoke the words from the bottom of his heart:
"You... you were all born by me! I gave you life! You should... should do these things for me! This is your mission! Otherwise why did I give birth to you?! Huh?! Why?!"
He gasped, afraid Shane wasn't satisfied, and added another sentence.
"I never said I wanted to love you, I didn't want you born either. If you want to blame, blame Monica!"
Voice falling, Shane looked at him silently for two seconds, but there was no anger in his eyes, only contempt.
Then, like throwing away garbage, he threw Frank back onto the ground.
Frank collapsed on the ground, panting like broken bellows, the exhaustion of surviving a disaster mixed with pain.
He finally... temporarily got rid of this damn electric shock.
But when his unfocused gaze slowly focused and looked in the direction Shane walked, his body, which was trembling from the shock, suddenly stopped.
At the door, where the light reached, a group of people stood at some point.
Fiona stood at the very front.
She obviously heard something wrong and rushed out first; her hands were still stained with roast turkey sauce.
Initially, when she saw Shane shock Frank again, she wanted to go stop him or scold Shane to stop, but was held back by Lip.
Then... her hand froze in mid-air, her already bloodless face becoming even paler.
Frank's last roar was like a rusty dull knife, cutting off another large piece of the last bit of self-deceiving thought about "father" in her heart.
Her hand dropped weakly, her whole body seemed to have its bones removed, her eyes left with only boundless emptiness.