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My mother went to the hospital that night, I didn't go with her, I didn't want to, in all honesty. I was numb to the fact that she could be dead. I mean, she kicked me out over and over again, just because I reminded her of my dad. And then my dad came back and he was better and she ran off, causing him to spiral and relapse. She didn't care about anyone but herself, it was clear. So I gave the EMTs my dad's number and went home with Lip. I guess I slept for about 12 hours, according to Lip. I was on autopilot for the next couple of days, but today was the day that Ian was finally getting released from the hospital. So I had to get my shit together. "Rise and shine!" Sammie shouted from downstairs, I let out a long sigh, I hated the fact that she was still here. I walked down the stairs into the kitchen, "Ian's coming home from the cuckoo's nest this morning! So let's all make a little effort to make him feel welcome!"
I let out a scoff, focusing my gaze on her, "Cuckoo's nest, really? He's sick you fuck-" I started to say, but Frank was quick to cut me off.
"Yes, dear, good thinking," He said to Sammi, then he looked over at me for a moment, a pleading look on his face. Sammi was crazy, making it so that Frank needed her. He was bandaged up from the gunshot wound, and he honestly looked like he could keel over at any moment.
I sighed softly, walking away into the living room, "Breakfast in five!" Sammi then yelled. I sat next to Carl on the couch, and Frank sat next to me.
Chuckie walked over and looked at Frank, "My mom shot you," He said to him.
Frank nodded, "Yes, she did," He said to him after clearing his throat.
Carl let out a sigh, "I don't get why you don't just use her face for target practice," He said to Frank, I nodded in agreement, even though it was a terrible idea to agree with Carl, I couldn't help it at this moment. I couldn't think of any better way to get rid of Sammi at this moment.
"I think he's right," I then said, "Seems like the only option to get rid of her, she is getting on my nerves..."
"Prison is no place for a man with naturally tight glutes," Frank said to us, waving his finger if he was scolding the two of us for even suggesting it.
"Skank bitch did it to you, it'd just be self-defense," Carl said.
I shook my head at him, "Not how it works," I said to him as I leaned back against the couch cushions.
Carl tilted his head to the side, confused to why his idea wouldn't work. "She's right, son," Frank said to him, "Not after the fact... And, son, it is important to know the different between a skank bitch and a deranged psychopath. Your sister, Sammi, is the latter."
"So?"
"So, when you have a skank bitch in your house, you stand up to her, you push back and eventually she leaves... But with a psychopath, you have to take a different approach. But, in the end, she will crawl back to the syphilis-ridden gutter whence she came and I will reclaim my bedroom and my life. She started the war, but I'll win it," Frank tapped his nose in a knowing way.
