FO4 | Book 0: The Diaries of Anarchy ✔️

April 21, 2259

"Guard!" I called again desperately as the sweat poured down my forehead. I was clingin' to the bars of my cell, the cool metal givin' me a small amount of relief against my fevered body.

"What is it now, McDonough?" said the guard from a few feet away.

"Please, I'm going to fucking die if you don't give me some Buffout."

"Can it. We're not providing you with chems."

I tried to hit the bars roughly, but the Buffout withdrawal made me so weak, I was lucky to stand up straight. "You fucking asshole!"

"Hey, give this guy somethin' so he'll shut the hell up!" said another prisoner. "It's been two goddamn days!"

"Quiet, all of you! You're in here for a reason, now deal with it!"

I let myself fall onto my cot and cry. My muscles hurt so goddamn bad. I was goin' insane from the pain. I wanted to tear my own limbs off so that I didn't have to feel the contractions in my muscles.

"It's been two days, John," said Nick's cool voice from the other side of my cell.

I sat up and whipped my head around to face him. "Nick, thank God. I need a fix. Please. You have to help me. I'm gonna die."

"I actually brought you a little present." He took an inhaler out of his pocket. "Addictol will fix your symptoms, but you'll need more than one dose. I can bring you some more tomorrow if you're willing."

I took the inhaler from him and stared at it. "This has to be a joke."

"This is no joke, John. Look at you — you look like death warmed over. You need this, and you're just going to have to deal with it. Beggars can't be choosers."

I inhaled its contents before the next wave of muscle spasms hit me. Then I growled and threw the inhaler to the ground. "Bet you're lovin' this, Nick. You and every saint in this damn city always wanted me to give up the chems, and now I gotta."

"I wouldn't say I love it, John. But I do have hope that this is what it takes for you to see the light. There are people who care about you out here."

"Heh. You'd be the only one. My brother kicked me outta the house. I won't have a place to go after this." I wiped the sweat from my brow, already feeling calmer after taking the Addictol.

"He does care about you, John. But he's not gonna fall victim to your toxic behavior. Believe me when I say that he's doing what's best for him."

"What a load of crap..."

"Hm. Whatever you say. I'll be back tomorrow when I get the chance to bring you some more Addictol."

As he left, I plopped back down on my cot and sighed. I was finally getting some relief from the Addictol, but I knew it wasn't going to last. I enjoyed it while I had it.

I found myself wallowing in a state of self-pity, disgusted at myself for my lack of judgment and social relationships. From an outside perspective, I probably looked pretty fuckin' sad. Nick could pretend that he saw a broken little boy that just needed a little guidance and time to heal, but I knew he saw me like everyone else does — as the estranged little brother of one of Diamond City's most goody-two-shoes, most hardworking, most reputable citizens.

Guy can act like an upstandin' citizen all he wants, but we're all just drifters lookin' for a place to permanently settle, like flakes of ash driftin' through the wind. We're all from the same dumpster fire.

And as I stared at the ceiling of my cell, I wondered what my mother woulda thought of me now. Not that it mattered — she had been dead for around five years. If she was alive, we wouldn't have been in this situation to begin with. But...

Still, I guess I preferred this life compared to pickin' tatoes and carrots all day. Guy was right when he said, "you'll either get it when you're older, or you won't." I did get it. Here, we were free.

Freedom came with a price, though. It's true; I did take Vivienne's life with my own hands. I had a hand in how things played out for me and for Marowski. That's what freedom does, though, doesn't it? It changes lives, molds and shapes us into somethin' else over time, and sometimes it snuffs out other lives. Vivienne was outta the picture because of a decision I made. It was so bizarre.

Emily's words surfaced in my mind; she said that killin' a person would change you. Heh. I suppose what's even more bizarre is that I didn't feel any different.

And I thought, when I get outta here, I'm gonna redefine freedom.