The night was deep. The Alibi Room had closed for the night.
Having drained every last drop of beer from his glass, Frank swallowed a few more pills and swayed his way back toward the Gallagher house.
As he walked, Frank muttered to himself smugly, mocking the doctor and the hospital.
"Can't drink? Fuck that."
"Full of shit."
"I know my own body."
"..."
Chuckling all the way, Frank pushed the door open and stumbled into the Gallagher house.
The house was pitch black.
Carl, Ian, and Liam were already asleep upstairs.
Frank was too lazy to climb the stairs. He headed straight for the sofa, collapsed onto it, popped a few more pills, and started snoring immediately.
Who knows how long he slept.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through him. Frank was jolted awake by the agony. He twisted his head, opened his mouth, and—
Retch.
Blood sprayed out.
In an instant, it was like a faucet had burst. Blood canted wildly from Frank's mouth.
One second, two seconds, three seconds...
Finally, it stopped. Frank's vision went black, and he passed out, his breathing growing faint.
---
Time flew by.
Fiona, agitated and upset, rode in Jimmy's car back to the house.
The two quickly entered and headed for the stairs, ready to go up.
It was summer, so even late at night, the moonlight was fairly bright.
As she walked, Fiona suddenly caught a blurry glimpse of Frank—and that massive, terrifying pool of blood he had spewed out.
Instantly.
"Ah!!!" Fiona screamed. Her body froze, and she felt as cold as ice.
A second later, Jimmy saw it too.
Although he was a bit of a coward at heart, he was still a man. He was startled for a moment but reacted quickly, rushing over to flip on the living room light.
Under the harsh light...
Jesus Christ.
The massive puddle of blood Frank had coughed up looked even more horrifying.
Fiona didn't want to look, but her gaze was glued to the blood, unable to look away. She began to tremble uncontrollably.
"Is... is he dead?"
Jimmy was already by Frank's side, checking for a pulse. "Not yet. He's still breathing a little."
Answering Fiona, Jimmy hurriedly pulled out his phone to call for an ambulance. "Hello, this is 2119 North Wallace..."
After the call.
Since he had no idea what was actually wrong with Frank, Jimmy didn't dare move him. He rushed back to Fiona and held her close.
After holding her for a few seconds, Jimmy thought for a moment and asked softly, "Should I go wake Ian and Carl?"
Fiona had recovered just a tiny bit. Hearing this, she instinctively wanted to refuse. But the words reached her lips, and she thought better of it.
If Frank really died like this, and she didn't let Carl and Ian see him one last time, it wouldn't be right.
She nodded.
Jimmy didn't waste time. With Fiona's permission, he sprinted upstairs, heading straight for the room where Ian, Carl, and Liam slept.
In no time at all.
Ian, holding Liam, came down with Carl. They looked at Frank and the pool of blood.
Ian had never had much affection for Frank, but even so, seeing this scene made him frown, his expression shifting uncomfortably.
From a certain perspective, Carl actually liked Frank a little bit. Seeing this, his small face instantly became stern. At the same time, he couldn't help but remember that evening he came home and found Peggy dead...
In the Gallagher living room, no one spoke. They just stood there, staring blankly.
Wee-woo wee-woo wee-woo~~~
The sound of the ambulance siren cut through the air. In the middle of the night, it was incredibly loud and piercing.
Next door, Dexter was woken up. He opened his eyes groggily, took two seconds to process, and realized the siren was right next door.
Another Gallagher down?
Dexter was a bit puzzled, so he moved quietly out of bed, walked to the window, and looked over.
---
Paramedics carried a stretcher into the Gallagher house.
About a minute later.
The paramedics carried Frank, who really only had one breath left, out of the house.
Naturally, Jimmy and the other four followed them out.
Dexter saw it clearly and instantly laughed.
Hauled away by an ambulance twice in a few hours. That's Frank for you.
Since it was Frank, Dexter could guess what happened with just a little thought. He shook his head with a smile, too lazy to watch anymore, and went back to bed.
Frank brought this on himself. Whatever happens, happens.
At the door of the Gallagher house.
Fiona, her face dark and gloomy, got into the ambulance.
As the ambulance drove away, Jimmy took out a cigarette, lit one, and said to Ian, "Get in the car. I'll drive you guys over."
In the middle of the night, Ian really didn't care if Frank lived or died and didn't want to go. But after a brief hesitation, feeling he couldn't let Fiona face this mess alone, he moved.
Soon.
Jimmy drove the car, taking the three Gallagher boys toward the hospital.
---
The Hospital.
The doctor, who had struggled to get rid of Frank just hours ago, had been sleeping soundly when the nurse woke him up.
And then, he saw Frank again...
The doctor really couldn't hold back; the corner of his mouth twitched. Subconsciously, he sniffed the air.
The smell of alcohol on Frank was unmistakable. The doctor shook his head helplessly and looked at Fiona.
"Based on the smell of booze on him, I'm guessing he went drinking immediately after leaving here last night? And drank quite a lot?"
Fiona's face was dark. She bit her lip. "Probably. I work the night shift. I just got back and found him like this."
The doctor didn't say anything more. There was nothing to say.
After all, for a scumbag like Frank, doing something like this wasn't surprising at all.
In the blink of an eye.
Frank was wheeled into the operating room. Jimmy and the others had to wait outside.
Jimmy was exhausted, yawning repeatedly.
Originally, at this time, he should have been curled up asleep with Fiona. Instead, because of Frank, he was stuck in this place.
What a pain.
Fiona's mind was a chaotic mess. She wasn't sleepy at all, just sitting there in a daze, her face gloomy, expression blank, saying nothing.
Ian, holding Liam—who could really sleep and was still out cold—also started yawning. He was tired and wanted to go to bed.
Carl stared at the operating room doors, rarely lost in thought about a serious issue.
If Frank dies, where should we bury him?
Should he be buried with Peggy?
That seems like it would cost a lot of money.
We don't have enough money.
Carl kept thinking like this, silently arranging Comrade Frank's funeral affairs in his head.
Before long.
The sun came up.
The operating room doors opened. The doctor, who was truly worn out, walked out first.
Seeing him, Fiona immediately rushed over and asked anxiously, "Doctor, how is my dad..."
Carl followed closely and chimed in.
"Is he dead?"