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

The first sign Sylvia was back was the noise.

The unmistakable clatter of keys hitting the floor.
The crash of something metal — a pot maybe — bouncing across the linoleum.
The unmistakable slur of her voice, low and simmering with rage.

Adeline was in the kitchen when it started, stacking canned food neatly into the tiny pantry.

She froze, every muscle locking up.

Across the apartment, Rory stood from the couch slowly, like he was preparing for impact. Leah grabbed Alyssa’s hand automatically. Tessa and Lily exchanged a look — a warning.

They all knew the drill.

Sylvia was home.
And Sylvia was angry.

---

The front door slammed hard enough to rattle the cheap picture frames on the walls.

Sylvia stumbled into the living room, hair plastered to her forehead with sweat, eyes wild.

For a moment, she just stood there, swaying, scanning the room like she was looking for a fight.

Then she locked eyes on Sophie.

"You little whore," she hissed.

Sophie blinked, caught completely off guard.

"What—"

"I know where you've been!" Sylvia shrieked, lurching forward.

Rory stepped between them instantly.

"Back off."

Sylvia barely registered him.

"You think you can sneak around, whoring it up with that Gallagher trash?" she snarled, pointing a shaking finger at Sophie. "You think you're better than me?!"

Adeline moved fast, grabbing Sophie’s arm and yanking her back toward the kitchen.

"Lily, Tessa — get Alyssa to the bedroom. Now."

The younger girls scrambled, grabbing the wide-eyed nine-year-old and pulling her down the hallway, slamming the door behind them.

Rory stood firm, arms crossed, blocking Sylvia’s path.

"You’re not touching her," he said flatly.

Sylvia laughed — a horrible, broken sound.

"You think you can stop me? You think you’re men now? You’re nothing. You’re all nothing without me!"

Adeline felt something inside her snap.

"No," she said, voice cold and shaking, "we’re nothing because of you."

Sylvia’s face twisted in rage.

"You ungrateful little bitches. I should’ve left you to rot the day your father died!"

"You did," Sophie said quietly, her voice shaking but strong.

Sylvia lunged.

Rory caught her by the shoulders, shoving her backward hard enough that she stumbled into the side table, knocking a lamp to the floor with a crash.

"Don’t," Adeline warned. "Don’t make this worse."

Sylvia wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, breathing hard.

"You think you’re safe," she spat. "You think you’re grown. But you’re all still mine."

Adeline stepped forward, standing between Sylvia and the kids.

"No," she said. "We’re not."

Sylvia stared at her.

Really stared.

And for the first time, there was something flickering behind the anger — fear.

Because she could see it now, written all over their faces.

They weren’t scared of her anymore.

They were done.

---

Sylvia backed up slowly, still muttering under her breath, still drunk enough to be dangerous.

But not enough to miss the truth.

Adeline didn’t flinch.

Sophie didn’t cry.

Rory didn’t back down.

Leah didn’t hide.

They stood together — a wall she couldn’t break.

And Sylvia hated it.

More than anything, she hated it.

---

Later, after she locked herself in her bedroom and passed out — the smell of vodka leaking through the door — the apartment was silent.

Too silent.

Adeline sat on the kitchen floor, back against the fridge, trying to catch her breath.

Sophie lowered herself down next to her, legs folded underneath her.

"I’m sorry," Sophie whispered.

Adeline shook her head. "Don’t be."

"I shouldn’t have—"

"You didn’t do anything wrong."

Sophie wiped her nose with her sleeve, blinking back tears.

"I just wanted to have something that wasn’t hers," she said. "Something that was mine."

"You do," Adeline said. "You have us."

It wasn’t enough.

They both knew it.

But it was what they had.

And for now, that would have to be enough.

---

In the hallway, Rory leaned against the wall, fists bruised from catching Sylvia.

Leah sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, Alyssa tucked safely between them, coloring absently with broken crayons.

Tessa and Lily sat on the edge of the mattress, listening to the silence.

Waiting.

Planning.

---

That night, as the city buzzed outside and Sylvia snored like a chainsaw behind her locked door, the Whitman kids made a quiet, invisible promise:

The next time Sylvia came at them swinging?

She wouldn’t find scared little kids.

She’d find a fucking army.

[Word count: ~732 words]