At the front door of the Jackson house.
Having thrown a furious punch that knocked Frank straight to the ground, Eddie looked down. seeing Frank lying there completely motionless, Eddie's head buzzed. He was dumbfounded.
At the same time.
Standing inside the house, peeking through the window, Sheila was shocked. She covered her mouth, then immediately turned and sprinted out the door to Eddie's side.
"Eddie, did you kill him?" she asked in terror.
Eddie didn't have the guts to actually kill Frank. Just now, he was purely overwhelmed by rage; he was just talking smack. Now, hearing Sheila's words, he blinked subconsciously, truly panicked and terrified.
If Frank was really dead, what should he do?
He'd go to prison, right?
His life would be over!
Eddie didn't dare imagine the consequences of Frank dying just like that. He blinked hard several times, then bit his lip forcefully, forcing himself to calm down.
Calming down a little, Eddie didn't make a sound. He immediately moved, squatting down by Frank's head to check for breathing.
He checked...
Oh, crap.
It was over! No breathing!
Instantly, Eddie almost wet himself. He pulled his hand back as if he had been electrocuted, then instinctively looked around.
It was late, and there was no one else around. That was the good news!
So...
In just a split second, countless thoughts flashed through Eddie's mind.
Eddie didn't want to go to prison, and he certainly didn't want to go to prison for a piece of trash like Frank. Thinking about it further, for a drunk and a junkie like Frank to die inexplicably in some random place was simply too reasonable...
The more he thought about it, the more resolved he became. Eddie steeled his heart and decided to move Frank. He immediately reached out, picked Frank up, and walked toward his car.
Sheila watched helplessly and got anxious. "Eddie, Eddie, what are you doing?"
"None of your damn business! Go back inside!" Eddie's head felt like it was about to explode; he had no energy to deal with this crazy woman, so he shouted at her abruptly.
Hearing this, Sheila trembled instantly. She was scared—so scared she couldn't move.
Eddie moved quickly. He opened the car door and dumped Frank into the back seat.
Only then did Eddie calm down a bit more. He realized that Sheila, being unstable, might lose her mind and choose to call the police. He hurriedly turned to Sheila and spoke in a slightly softer tone.
"You go back inside. I'm taking him to the hospital."
Hearing this, Sheila, who had been completely lost, finally breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed a little. Trembling slightly, she turned and went back into the house.
Eddie didn't waste time. He got in, started the engine, floored the gas, and drove Frank away in one smooth motion.
Time flew by.
Arriving at a dark, deserted alley, Eddie dumped Frank out. Then, without any hesitation, he got back in the car to go buy some "powder."
Eddie had thought it through.
Just dumping Frank in a wasteland wasn't safe. There was a high probability he would be found in a few days, and then the police would launch an investigation.
The safest way was to fake a scene where Frank died of a drug overdose. Given the fact that people frequently OD'd in the South Side, combined with Frank's notorious reputation as a junkie and alcoholic... the police likely wouldn't investigate anything and would just close the case.
Living in the South Side, even though he had never bought drugs before, Eddie knew where to get them.
It didn't take long. After buying some white powder, Eddie returned to Frank. Then, following what he had seen on TV, he stuffed some powder into Frank's nose, sprinkled some under his nose, and finally, shoved the remaining packet into Frank's hand.
Everything was done.
Eddie took a deep breath, terrified yet wired with excitement, and got the hell out of there.
In a flash, Eddie returned home. Without a word, he ducked into the bathroom and started showering.
Sheila was very anxious about what the doctor had said. Hesitating slightly, she followed him to the bathroom door and asked weakly, "Eddie, how is Frank? Is he okay..."
Eddie heard her but was in no mood to pay attention.
At this moment.
After "killing" Frank, the adrenaline that had instinctively spiked was rapidly fading. Eddie began to feel a genuine, overwhelming retrospective fear. He couldn't believe what he had done and couldn't stop shivering.
The aftereffects of murder were rapidly manifesting in Eddie.
The more he thought about it, the more terrified he became. He was scared to death.
---
The night grew deeper.
Like a cockroach that just wouldn't die, in the dark, lightless alley, Frank suddenly took a deep breath and opened his eyes.
Hiss~
Opening his eyes, Frank immediately felt a massive headache, causing him to suck in a breath of cold air in pain.
With this inhalation, the powder in his nose rushed into his nasal cavity...
Frank was startled, his eyes widening instantly!
Holy shit!
Where did this powder come from?
Was this a reward from God?
Frank sobered up completely in an instant. shortly after, logically and without finding anything amiss, he discovered the powder in his nose, under his nose, and in his hand.
Inexplicably obtaining so much powder—haha! Instantly, the pain in his head didn't matter at all. Overjoyed, Frank hurriedly started snorting.
A short while later.
High. High. High. So damn high.
Frank felt incredibly good. He shook his head fiercely, stood up, pocketed the remaining powder, and swayed his way out of the alley.
Frank didn't plan to go home. He didn't want to see those ungrateful bastards like Fiona. He wanted to find a place with company to continue snorting his powder.
In the South Side, there were plenty of places like that.
After walking for just ten minutes or so, Frank saw a few familiar faces. He joined them, ducking into an abandoned house that had been taken over by junkies. Once inside, he found a random corner and started partying.
Life is truly beautiful! Frank thought, high as a kite.
---
It was now the middle of the night.
Mandy couldn't sleep. She got up, walked to the living room, collapsed onto the sofa, and smoked cigarette after cigarette. She felt that life was dull and completely meaningless.
The fact was, this time, that idiot Lip had truly tormented Mandy severely.
Mandy didn't want to commit suicide; she just purely felt that living was incredibly boring, feeling like a walking zombie.
Time passed.
The living room was filled with smoke.
Mickey, having had some fun in the city and fucked a gay guy, walked in with a cigarette in his mouth, strutting with his usual swagger.
As soon as he entered, Mickey choked on the smoke. "Jesus, how much fucking trouble did you smoke?"
Mandy looked at Mickey with lifeless eyes and a face full of deathly stillness. "None of your business."
Mickey didn't know what to do with Mandy either. He walked quickly to open the window for ventilation, then headed toward his room.
After a few steps.
Mickey couldn't help it. He stopped and turned to Mandy. "Isn't it just that idiot Lip? Are there no other men in the world? You should go out more, fuck a few other guys. What's the use of hiding in here like this?"
"Fuck off!" Mandy retorted immediately upon hearing this.
Mickey was helpless. He had said his piece; whatever.
Mickey went back to his room and closed the door.
Mandy curled up on the sofa and continued smoking.
The saying "Meeting Lip ruins a lifetime" was reflected vividly in Mandy, the die-hard romantic.