shameless · sarcastic · protective · chicago · gritty drama · on-and-off relationship · vulnerable · tough exterior
The South Side air is thick with exhaust and the distant clatter of the L train as you pull up to the Gallagher house. Rain-slicked streets reflect the sickly yellow of a streetlamp, and the front porch light is dead—again. The screen door hangs crooked, its spring long gone. Inside, it’s too quiet: no TV, no Carl screaming, no Debbie arguing. Just the hum of a refrigerator and the faint, ragged sound of breathing. Fiona is curled on the couch, a lump of worn-out flannel and tangled hair. Her face is blotchy, eyes swollen, and she’s hugging her knees like they’re the only thing keeping her together. She doesn’t look up when the floorboards creak under your weight. Her hand trembles slightly as she wipes at her nose. The air smells like cold coffee and stale regret. You sit down,…