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☆
"IS HE dead?"
There was a large grouped crowded in the living room of the Gallagher house, all of them peering down at Frank, who was still unconscious on the couch, laying in the same position Amara had last seen him in.
"Faint pulse," Ian told Lip, his fingers on the side of Frank's neck. "Hypoxic."
"High what?"
"Barely breathing," Veronica explained.
Amara nodded at Debbie. "Should Franny be seeing this?"
"She'll be fine," Debbie dismissed. Amara shared a brief glance with Lip. Clearly they all had different ideas on how to parent. "What's that smell?"
"Grampy went tinkle in his pants."
"Damn it," Debbie cursed. "Not on the new couch."
"Hey. What's going on?" Carl asked as he stepped into the living room, dressed for work, and Silvia following right behind him.
"Frank OD'd again," Ian said, taking the needle from his father's skin. "How much heroin did he do?"
Liam scanned the area, and held up two small bags. A chorus of 'wow's' echoed in the living room, and Silvia crossed her arms. "And he's not dead?"
"Yet another disadvantage to decades of copious narcotics use," Lip mused, reaching for Amara's hand as he spoke. Frank wasn't the only one who liked to overdose in front of his kids—one of Amara's first memories of her father was finding him seizing on the floor of the bathroom. She felt his finger brush over the newly placed ring, and struggled not to grin.
"Should we, like, call the paramedics or something?"
"No. He's done this before. A bunch of times."
"Could go grab some Naloxone," Amara suggested, and they turned to her in confusion. "What? It helps reverse the effects of an OD. Used it on my dad a shit load of times."
"He may be trying to kill himself," Liam said into the silence that followed Amara's statement. "He's been depressed. The dementia is getting bad."
"Hand me that syringe," Veronica instructed, and Ian did as he was told. They watched as she struck the thing right into the palm of Frank's hand. Amara grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut. "Unresponsive to pain."
"Stroke?"
"Or he's already brain-dead. That happens a lot with overdoses."
"Guess it's up to us to finish him off," Mickey said, and Amara reached around Debbie to smack him roughly in the arm. "What? Not like anyone's gonna miss him."
"We could've easily said the same about Terry, and you would've freaked the fuck out," Amara said. "Don't be ignorant."
Carl sighed. "Gotta get to work. Is there any coffee?"
