Dex Restaurant.
It was the dinner rush.
Karen walked into the kitchen, flashing a brilliant smile at Dexter. "Mr. Ding, I'm back again."
Karen really was beautiful.
Looking at her, Dexter was reminded of a classic archetype—the siren. The kind of femme fatale who ruins men without breaking a sweat.
Dexter was amused. When he thought about it, Lip was basically the sailor steering his ship right into the rocks.
Of course, Lip was luckier than most victims. At least he got to sleep with Karen a bunch of times.
"Did you go to Juvie?" Dexter asked with a smile, continuing his work.
"Yup," Karen nodded, then offered, "Some interesting stuff happened. Want to hear about it?"
"Shoot," Dexter replied, keeping his hands busy.
Karen didn't waste time. She recounted everything that happened at the Juvenile Detention Center in detail, focusing heavily on Lip getting beaten by the guards.
"Excellent." Dexter was very pleased. He thought for a moment. "Want to make another deal?"
Karen lit up immediately. "Name it."
"From now on, until Lip gets released, don't visit him. No matter how he tries to contact you, ignore him. Ghost him completely. Oh, and don't get an abortion," Dexter listed his conditions in one breath, then dropped the price. "I'll pay you ten thousand dollars."
Another ten grand!
Karen was thrilled. She didn't hesitate for a second. "Done! Deal!"
Dexter laughed. "Alright. Give me a minute to finish this order, and I'll cash you out for the fifteen thousand I already owe you."
"Okay, thanks, Mr. Ding. No rush, I need to eat anyway. I'll have the Spicy Beef Noodle Soup tonight," Karen said cheerfully. "I'll get out of your hair while you cook."
Dexter nodded. "Sure."
Karen left the kitchen.
Dexter chuckled to himself, imagining the agony Lip was in right now, and the misery awaiting him for the next three months.
Lip, that idiot, was obsessed with family.
Now he knew Karen was pregnant, but he was locked up in Juvie, completely helpless.
It would drive him insane.
And then, thinking about Karen carrying his child while she was out screwing other guys...
Tsk, tsk.
Dexter was confident Lip was going to get his ass kicked plenty more times in Juvie.
After all, that moron had zero impulse control.
He definitely inherited a bit of Monica's bipolar disorder, Dexter thought silently.
---
Bipolar disorder is a terrifying disease. It's essentially a mental time bomb.
If you stick to the meds, you can control it.
Unfortunately, Monica refused to take her meds. And recently, a chain of disasters had hit her hard...
Roberta was shot and killed, Monica got shot in the leg, Patrick stole the house, and Fiona and the boys were arrested and sentenced...
Monica didn't even realize it herself, but she was teetering on the edge of a manic episode.
That Night. Sheila's House.
Monica had come over in the afternoon to find Frank. She had been there for over two hours, nagging him relentlessly to come home.
Frank didn't want to go back. Not even a little bit. Here, he had food, booze, and Sheila waiting on him hand and foot. It was paradise. Why the hell would he go back?
"Give it a rest. I'm not going back," Frank said. He had rejected her dozens of times in the last two hours and was sick of talking about it.
Hearing this, Monica looked miserable and tried to argue again.
At this point, Sheila, who already viewed Monica as the villain trying to steal Frank away, couldn't take it anymore. "Monica, Frank has said no many times. I think you should leave."
Monica's temple throbbed. "Shut up! Frank is my husband! This is none of your business!"
Sheila might have her quirks (to put it mildly), but she had a temper too. She snapped. "This is my house! Please leave immediately, or I'm calling the police!"
Monica glared at her. "Fuck you, you bitch!! Frank is my husband!! Don't you dare try to take him from me!"
The word "bitch" stunned Sheila for a second.
A moment later, Sheila snapped back to reality. Her chest heaved with rage. "What... what did you call me?!! That's it, I'm calling the police!"
Sheila turned around to grab the phone.
Ding-dong.
Monica instantly crossed the line from "stressed" to "full-blown manic episode."
Without hesitation, she swung her crutch and smashed it into Sheila. "Bitch!! I'll kill you!"
The crutch was long, and Monica swung it with serious force.
Sheila didn't see it coming. She was knocked to the floor, screaming in pain. "You... you actually hit me!"
"Hit you? I'm going to kill you, you bitch, you cunt! You think you can steal my husband?!" Monica screamed furiously, moving to chase Sheila down.
Sheila was terrified, but seeing the murderous look in Monica's eyes, she didn't freeze. She scrambled on hands and knees, crawling away from the crazy woman.
Monica chased her, but with her bad leg, she was slow.
A few seconds later, Sheila put some distance between them. She saw the phone, gritted her teeth, grabbed it, and dialed 911 while running for her life. "I need police! There's a crazy woman in my house trying to kill me! Hurry! The address is..."
"Ma'am, get away from the attacker! Officers are on the way!!"
Not far away, Monica clearly heard what Sheila said. She slammed on the brakes.
She was manic, not brain-dead.
She still had some survival instinct. She turned around, abandoned the chase, and bolted toward the door.
Monica ran fast, ignoring the pain in her leg, sprinting on both feet.
In the blink of an eye, she was out of Sheila's house, out of the yard, and on the sidewalk.
Then...
She hesitated for one second.
Monica made a decision. She wasn't going back to the Gallagher house. Screw Frank. Screw the kids.
She turned in the opposite direction, running toward freedom. Toward the life she felt she deserved.
Time passed.
The police didn't catch Monica.
She hitched a ride on a passing truck and disappeared into the night.
---
Back at Sheila's House.
From the moment Monica started swinging her crutch until now, Frank had been sitting on the couch, drinking his beer, completely unbothered.
He turned to look at Sheila, who was still sobbing, and felt a little annoyed.
"Sheila, it's okay, it's okay. The cops will catch the crazy woman," Frank said, suppressing his irritation to comfort her. Then, he immediately pivoted. "Sheila, when's dinner? I'm starving."
Sheila was still sobbing uncontrollably. Hearing him, she instinctively stood up and started walking toward the kitchen, cursing through her tears. "That Monica... she's a complete lunatic. I hope the police lock her up..."
"Yeah, yeah, she belongs in jail," Frank agreed perfunctorily. "Make me a steak tonight."
"Okay," Sheila sobbed.
---