A Different Kind Of Dysfunction - A Shameless Fanfiction (Book One)

Leah Whitman didn’t wake up that morning planning to become a criminal.

It just sort of...happened.

She stood outside the Food Mart, the same one Adeline had barely survived the day before, bouncing on her heels to fight the cold.
Her jacket — three sizes too big, ripped at the sleeve — barely kept the wind out.

Inside the grimy windows, the shelves were piled high with food.
Cereal, snacks, candy bars — stupidly normal things.
Things she couldn’t remember the last time they had at home.

She shoved her hands into her pockets and stared through the glass like she was seeing another world.

It wasn’t fair.

None of it was fair.

Other kids got Pop-Tarts and orange juice and warm houses and parents who gave a shit.
She got expired bread and a mother who couldn’t even stay conscious for more than an hour at a time.

Leah swallowed hard, blinking fast.

Her stomach hurt from hunger and anger and something deeper, something sour she couldn’t name.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew they had no money.
Adeline was working herself to death. Sophie was stretched thin. Rory was one fight away from jail.

Nobody was coming to save them.

Not even Adeline, not really.

Sometimes, if you wanted something, you had to take it.

She tugged her hoodie tighter and stepped inside the Food Mart.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in sickly green.

Leah grabbed a battered shopping basket and walked slowly down the aisles, pretending to browse like she had all the time in the world.

She kept her head down, eyes flicking everywhere — cameras, mirrors, store clerks.

She’d seen kids do it before.
It couldn’t be that hard.

She started small.

Two candy bars slipped into her hoodie pocket when no one was looking.
A pack of instant ramen up her sleeve.

Her heart thundered so loud in her ears she couldn’t hear anything else.

It was easy.
Too easy.

She moved faster, grabbing a dented box of cereal, a can of soup, some crushed crackers.
Shoved them into her backpack when an aisle was empty.

Nobody noticed.

Nobody cared.

Maybe this was how people survived. Maybe this was how you took what the world refused to give you.

She was halfway to the door, trying to keep her breathing normal, when she felt the hand grab her arm.

"Hey!"
The voice was sharp — male — and way too loud.

Leah froze.

Her blood went cold as she looked up into the face of the security guard — mid-thirties, beer belly stretching his uniform shirt, eyes already narrowed like he knew everything about her.

"You gonna pay for all that, sweetheart?" he sneered, squeezing her arm tighter.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. She tried to yank away, but he held on.

"I — I forgot—" she stammered, heat crawling up her neck.

"Forgot, huh?" the guard said, loud enough for everyone at the registers to turn and stare. "Or just figured nobody would notice another Whitman stealing?"