December 24, 2255

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Guy, Emily, and I stood in Mayor Henry Thompson's office practically begging him for the house that just opened up.

My brother did most of the talkin'. "Please, sir. Consider how long we've lived in Diamond City without a home. We're hardworking citizens, and we're interested in settling down here permanently. I beg you — we want to spend Christmas in our own home. Please."

Guy's begging was hardly swaying the mustached mayor, and he stood in place, starin' out at the city while rubbin' his beard.

"We have enough money," said Emily. "We would all pitch in with the sum and take equal responsibility of the house."

"I understand that. That's not the issue I have with this. It's just that... with it being Christmas and all, and one of our beloved townspeople passing away in their old age, I frown on moving anyone into the house so quickly. Old Mrs. Terry just passed away yesterday morning for God's sake. It'd be a real shame."

"It'd be an even bigger shame to let a hardworking man, his fiancée, and his little brother be denied a home on nothing more than the mayor getting the heebie-jeebies at the thought of moving on 'too soon,'" I said, hands in my pockets and squinting at Mayor Thompson with conviction.

He gave me a stern look, turning his mesmerized gaze away from his beloved city below. "I beg your pardon, young McDonough, but that is stepping out of line."

"John, don't be rude," Guy whispered.

"No, John's right," said Emily. "Someone is going to move into that house sooner or later, and we want to be the first ones you consider."

He sighed. "I-It's simply not big enough. Home Plate is a small one-bedroom apartment. And it needs cleaning."

"We'll save enough to purchase the house next to it, then. Let us have what you've got so far. As for cleaning, I don't care to clean the place my-damn-self."

The mayor looked between the three of us. Then, finally, he sighed and threw his hands up. "Fine. Linda, my secretary, will give you the key to Home Plate. Let me grab a contract from my desk and I'll meet you to discuss the fee."

____________________

The house still smelled like death and decay from where old Mrs. Terry kicked the bucket. The house was pretty small — it only had one large room, one bathroom, and a small upstairs platform accessible by winding, rickety stairs.

But we didn't care. As soon as we stepped inside with the contract in my brother's tightly clenched hand, we jumped for joy. Finally, we didn't have to sleep out in the heat or the cold, on flea-infested bedrolls with strangers who smelled of shit and booze. We finally had somethin' that was ours. We could finally call this place home. And all it took was almost two years of hard labor and a two-thousand cap sum.

____________________

Even though I spent a little money on a sleeping bag of my own and tucked it away beneath the stairs, I still couldn't sleep. I was having that familiar itch again. I searched my pockets for another pill, threw it back, and awaited its effects.

I felt a little guilty. We probably could have bought the house sooner before the cold weather moved in, but I had been givin' a lot of my caps to Dominic for more Buffout. I wasn't stupid — I knew it was becomin' a problem.

But what else could I do? I was such a scrawny little shit that couldn't do anything by himself. I grew up sickly, and ever since I started takin' Buffout, I've never felt stronger. I needed this. This was my self-prescribed medication.

Heh heh. At least, that's what I told myself.

I lay on my back under the stairs, arms folded behind my head, soothed by the Buffout's warming effect on my muscles. My biceps had become rocks since I had started takin' it, and they were almost uncomfortable to lay on, but I snickered about it.

At this age, I felt no shame in takin' pride for somethin' I hadn't worked for, and pride I did feel. Oh, how I felt pride. Intoxicating pride. Empowering pride. It was unhealthy. The world owed me a great debt, and I felt sick to my stomach thinkin' it wasn't gonna pay me my dues.

I heard a rustling upstairs, followed by footsteps. Down the stairs walked Emily. She walked over to the shelf where our bottles of water sat in the kitchen area. She took one, opened it, and took a sip, looking around the new house.

She met my eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't wake you up, did I?"

I shook my head.

"Can't sleep?"

"Somethin' like that."

She walked over to my sleeping bag and sat beside me, cross-legged on the floor, the bottle of water on her lap. "How's working with the caravan?"

"Not bad. They trust me. Took them a while to realize I could do the work, and I'm getting better at it every day I travel with them."

"What's it like?"

"It's usually pretty boring. I've never had any trouble out of people trying to steal from the caravan. It's mostly Mirelurks, or mongrels, or even Bloatflies that I've had to kill."

"Good. I hope you never have to kill someone."

"Why's that?"

"It's something you can't come back from. Having someone else's blood on your hands." She got a far-off look in her eye.

"I can handle it if it happens." I sat upright. "I'm not worried about it."

"You say that until it happens."

"I said I got it," I snapped. "I can handle anything that comes my way."

She scoffed. "I'm only going to say this once, John. I don't know whether it's you feigning confidence or it's the pills you've been popping, but you need to lose the attitude."

"H-How do you know about —"

"You're not exactly discreet with them. You're lucky Guy hasn't caught on yet. I'm not going to tell him, but... you need to take care of yourself."

"It's my business. If they're bad for me, I'm only hurtin' myself, no one else."

"Desperation is an ugly thing, John. If you get desperate enough for those pills, you'd do anything."

"Like you'd know."

Her brow knitted together, and her eyes grew a little darker. "I know plenty." She stood up with her bottle of water and walked back upstairs.

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