Chapter 206 — Monica Has an Episode
Inside the recruitment office, the commotion drew attention immediately.
People looked up. Whispers spread.
Ian felt every pair of eyes on him like needles. Shame burned through him so intensely he almost turned and ran.
"Ma'am, please mind your language. These are the Army's minimum standards."
The young recruiter maintained a professional tone, but impatience had crept into his voice.
"We cannot enlist someone who hasn't completed basic education. You should encourage him to return to school and graduate. It's for his own good."
"For his own good?!"
Monica suddenly snapped.
In one violent sweep, she knocked everything off the desk—forms, pamphlets, even the coffee mug.
The cup shattered on the floor, dark liquid spreading like a pool of blood.
"You hypocrites! You fake, self-righteous bastards!"
Like a furious lioness, Monica lunged forward, grabbing the recruiter by the collar and yanking him close. Her voice rose into a near-hysterical scream, her breath heavy with the sharp scent of substances.
"You want warriors, don't you? I brought you one!"
"He knows how to use a gun! He's a hero!"
"Either you sign him up today—or I tear this whole place apart!"
The recruiter struggled free, panic flashing across his face. A larger officer rushed over, trying to restrain Monica.
"Ma'am! Let go immediately! If you continue this behavior, I will call the police!"
But Monica only spun around, eyes wide, pointing at the officer like she'd been stung.
"Call the police? You cowards!"
"You're just scared!"
"Scared of my son's talent! Scared he'll be the best among you and take all your glory!"
Then she turned back, rushing toward Ian.
"Ian! My boy!"
She grabbed him and pulled him into a suffocating embrace, holding him so tightly he could barely breathe.
"Don't listen to them! You're a hero!"
"Come on, we're leaving! Screw this place!"
"We'll go next door—to the Marines! No wonder the U.S. Army is full of pussies!"
Without giving him a choice, she dragged him out of the recruitment office.
Ian followed mechanically.
He didn't look back.
Behind him echoed Monica's shrill shouting and the staff's angry reprimands.
In that moment, he understood—
His dream of joining the military had been pushed even further out of reach.
And this time, he had watched it happen with his own eyes.
Just like the coffee and papers scattered across the floor—
His hope had been crushed under Monica's chaos.
—
Suddenly, on the street—
Ian yanked his arm free.
"What's wrong, Ian?"
Monica stumbled slightly, startled, looking at him in confusion.
"Mom… what the hell are you doing?!"
Her earlier behavior—wild, unstable, completely out of control—had humiliated him to the core.
There was no rule saying the child of an addict couldn't join the military.
But Ian didn't want everyone there to know his mother was like this.
"What am I doing? I'm helping you!" Monica snapped back, her mental state clearly unraveling again.
Her tone shifted instantly—defensive, agitated.
"Fuck… I shouldn't have believed a word you said."
Ian shot her a cold glance, then turned and walked back toward school without hesitation.
"Wait—what's wrong?"
Monica hurried after him, grabbing his arm again.
"Let go!"
Ian shook her off—too hard this time.
Monica lost her balance and fell to the ground.
He stopped for a second.
Looked at her.
But there was no warmth in his eyes.
No guilt.
No instinct to help her up.
Then he turned—
And kept walking.
Watching his back disappear, Monica finally realized—
She had ruined everything again.
But in her mind, it wasn't something she could control.
That's what she told herself.
It always was.
Her bipolar disorder was her excuse for every breakdown.
But taking medication?
To her, that felt like losing herself entirely.
And so, she chose chaos—again.
The truth was—Monica knew her behavior was out of control.
And if she knew that, then she also knew something was wrong with her.
Which only made everything worse.
Some things really are self-inflicted.
—
Left alone on the street by Ian, Monica's manic frenzy finally burned out.
What replaced it was something far heavier—
A crushing, hollow emptiness.
That was the nature of her condition.
When she soared, she burned bright and wild.
But once that surge faded, she fell just as hard—into a suffocating void of despair.
—
Time slipped by.
By dusk, the sky had begun to darken.
Fiona sat alone on the steps outside 2119, a beer bottle hanging loosely in her hand.
Her body swayed slightly—tipsy, worn down.
Ever since the money was stolen, something in her had snapped.
But it wasn't really about the ten thousand dollars.
The restaurant made more than that in a month.
What truly broke her—
Was the feeling that her life could never stay on track.
Every time she got close to stability…
Something came along and dragged her back down.
As if the world itself refused to let her breathe.
Leaning against the railing, Fiona stared at the darkening sky, her thoughts drifting, heavy and tangled.
—
Then, slowly—
Monica appeared at the end of the street.
Her steps were sluggish, her body weighed down with exhaustion.
Since stealing the money with Frank, this was the first time she'd come home.
"Where's Frank?"
Fiona glanced at her, taking another swig of beer.
There was an edge in her voice now—sharp, accusatory.
But Monica didn't respond.
She didn't even look at her.
Like a ghost drifting through familiar ruins, she simply walked past and headed inside.
Fiona frowned.
She didn't realize Monica was crashing from an episode.
To her, it just looked like avoidance.
Like guilt.
Like indifference.
And that lit a fuse.
She tossed the empty beer can aside.
"Fuck!"
Cursing under her breath, she got up and followed Monica inside.
—
Inside the house, Monica was already halfway up the stairs.
Fiona rushed forward and grabbed her arm.
"Monica! I'm talking to you!"
"Where's Frank? And my money?"
"All gone already? Want me to give you more so you two can keep getting high and wasted?!"
Her sarcasm was biting, laced with anger.
But Monica…
Didn't react at all.
Her expression was blank.
Her movements slow.
Like a walking corpse.
She simply brushed Fiona's hand away and continued upstairs.
That's when Fiona realized—
Something was off.
"Monica!"
She shouted from below.
No response.
Watching Monica disappear up the stairs, Fiona clutched her head, frustration boiling over.
"Fuck!"
Just when she thought things couldn't get worse—
They always did.
That suffocating feeling tightened again.
Like chains wrapped around her life, dragging her down no matter how hard she struggled.
—
At that moment, the front door opened again.
Lip and Ian walked in together.
They both paused when they saw Fiona standing at the base of the stairs.
They exchanged a quick glance.
Then Lip spoke.
"What happened, Fiona?"
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