Shane walked up to the second floor and pushed open Debbie's bedroom door.
Fiona was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding the sobbing Debbie in her arms.
She sat sideways to the door, one hand gently patting Debbie's back, but her eyes stared blankly at the wall.
Hearing the door open, Fiona looked up. She looked at Shane, her gaze pausing for two seconds, finally just looking away and sighing.
Shane walked to Debbie's side, and Fiona walked out of the room, leaving the space to Shane.
He picked Debbie up, pressing his cheek against her head, his hand stroking her hair stroke by stroke.
After a while, Debbie's muffled voice came, still carrying a crying tone:
"Why, Daddy Frank, why did he say things like that? We are not trouble!"
After saying this, she started sobbing again.
Shane didn't answer immediately. He waited until Debbie calmed down a little before speaking to comfort her.
"Debbie, look at me, Debbie."
Debbie slowly raised her head. Her eyes and nose were red, her face wet, covered in tears.
"He thinks we are trouble not because you did anything wrong," Shane looked at Debbie seriously.
"Nor because this family is bad. It's because he himself is someone who can't do anything but create trouble. He sees everything as trouble, actually because he himself is the biggest trouble."
Debbie sniffled, "But... but he is my dad. Sometimes he smiles at me, and calls me little princess..."
"That's when he needs something from you, or happens to be in a not-bad mood, understand? Just like when we humans are in a good mood, we also tease puppies and kittens."
Shane spoke very directly.
"But more often, he still steals your piggy bank, cheats your pocket money, says he'll take you to the park but gets drunk in the bar himself, remember?"
Debbie bit her lip and nodded. She hadn't forgotten those disappointing memories; it was just that her little head kept deceiving herself.
She was just too eager for parental love.
"If a so-called dad is only occasionally good to you, but constantly disappoints you, and constantly steals your things, hurts your other family members."
Shane wiped Debbie's tears. "Then he doesn't deserve to be called dad. He's at most an old bastard living under the same roof!"
Debbie lowered her head and whispered: "Can I still call him dad in the future?"
"Whatever you want. Call him if you want, don't if you don't want to. But Debbie, remember," Shane held Debbie's shoulders, making her look at him.
"In this family, Fiona works late every day; Lip studies while trying to find ways to get money; Ian works while training desperately, wanting to join the army; Carl... well, Carl is still researching how to shock people, but he never thought of hurting family. Of course, there's me."
Shane pinched Debbie's cheek.
"We are the ones holding up this family together, understand? As for Frank... you can have expectations of him, but I think you can never count on him. Your 'dad' should be someone who cooks for you every day, urges you to do homework, and stays with you when you are sad... It's Fiona, it's us, not the drunk lying on the ground outside!"
Debbie listened to Shane's words, dazed. Her small hand unconsciously tightened on the corner of Shane's clothes, then loosened again.
Shane's words were like a key, opening a small box hidden deep in her heart. Unfortunately, there was no treasure inside, only the disappointment she secretly hid and dared not look at herself.
Before long, tears welled up again.
She threw herself into Shane's arms again and began to cry loudly.
Shane wasn't impatient, continuing to pat her back gently.
When Debbie was tired of crying, Shane took out a small box from his pocket. Inside the box was a very exquisite star hair clip, shimmering slightly even in the dim light of the room.
"This is a gift for you," Shane put the small hair clip into Debbie's hand. "Of course, this isn't compensation, it's a celebration. Celebrating our family having a little less trash and a little more peace."
Holding the hair clip Shane gave her, a tiny smile finally appeared on Debbie's face.
"Alright."
Shane stood up and put Debbie on the ground.
"Now wash your face and get ready to go downstairs for dinner. Besides this hair clip, I also prepared Thanksgiving gifts for everyone else~"
Debbie nodded. She first pinned the hair clip to her head, then walked out of the room.
...
After Debbie walked out of the room, Shane followed.
He gently closed the door, turned around, and saw Fiona leaning against the wall across the hallway.
She had her arms crossed, no expression on her face, just looking at Shane.
The hallway light shone down from above, illuminating Fiona's face half-bright and half-dark.
"See? This is the result. Are you satisfied?"
"There is no satisfied or unsatisfied. I just felt it was better to cut off Debbie's thoughts early."
Shane walked to Fiona's side. "What? Does your heart ache?"
"My heart aches for how Debbie cried just now..." Fiona was silent for a while, then spoke again.
"But Debbie is only 11, Shane. You let her watch her own father rolling on the ground like a dog begging for mercy, saying bastard things. For an 11-year-old child, this is too..."
"Do you know what will happen if we continue to let her have fantasies about Frank?"
Shane interrupted what Fiona wanted to say directly.
"Frank will keep stealing Debbie's piggy bank, then exchange every penny Debbie saved for her future self, for our family, into alcohol; Frank will also teach Debbie how to cheat welfare, how to fool social workers, and then let Debbie step by step become a younger, more desperate Frank Gallagher!
"He might even make Debbie feel that if she wants someone to love her, wants to have a family, the best way is to hurry up and have a baby herself!"
Fiona listened to the "future" Shane depicted, stunned, unable to say words of rebuttal, because Frank had basically done these things to her, and she had also had similar thoughts.
Now that Shane said these things directly, Fiona couldn't help but feel a terrible sense of prophecy.
"You... you are talking nonsense."
"Whether I'm talking nonsense or not, you know best in your heart, Fiona. Look at this family, look at us: Look where Lip's intelligence is used? Look if Ian is becoming more and more silent? Look why Carl ponders those dangerous things all day."
Shane pointed at Fiona, then poked his own chest.
"Look at you."
"And me."