FO4 | Book 0: The Diaries of Anarchy ✔️

July 19, 2259

"You're free to go, John," said the guard by the door. The keys rattled against each other as he wiggled the key into the lock. "If you need a shower and some clean clothes, you can use the room in the back."

"Why the hospitality, Ed?" I had gotten to know the guards personally by now.

"People that have been in here a while, they don't leave smellin' like a bushel of roses, ya know? Besides, I think you've suffered enough. There's some clean clothes in a locker back there that have been donated by the Fallons. Take a shirt and some pants, whatever you need."

I stepped out of the caged room for the first time in three months. It felt odd at first, but I quickly got used to the freedom.

I took Ed up on his offer and took a shower. My hair was a goddamn mess, and I'd been able to smell my own armpits for over a month. No amount of scrubbing was gonna save these clothes, so I threw 'em away as soon as I was stark naked.

God that hot water felt good. I lathered up a generic bar of soap and scrubbed my body with my hands. I made sure to get every disgusting crevice — my nasty ass, behind my ears, and between all nine toes.

When I was done, I dried off with a thin towel that looked older than God and picked some clothes out of a locker by the showers. I put my shoes back on and met a guard at the check-out window, who returned my stuff back to me.

I hesitantly took the Buffout from the guard. I didn't need it anymore. Nick helped me free myself of this shit, and I had no way of knowin' if this was the spiked shit I had gotten from Vivienne and Marowski. I dumped it into the garbage, and it hit the bottom with a satisfying thud.

I saw myself out and lit a cigarette on the way out.

I knew he said not to come back home, but I didn't have anything to my name at this point. I had some stuff I wanted to pack at the house, so I headed for Home Plate just past town square. I laughed, though, when I saw the single cardboard box sittin' on the small front porch.

It had been out here for a long while from the looks of it. The box was rough and faded, and the top was weighed down like it had been rained on a few times and dried just as many. I opened the top of the box and inside was all my things. The clothes were soggy and smelled like mold, and my almost-empty bottles of Buffout were strewn on top of them.

Considerin' that all my shit was now ruined, I picked up the box and dumped it into a garbage can by the square. I couldn't help but laugh, though. Sure, I was a little peeved, but it would be just like him to be this petty. I don't know why I expected anything different.

I perched the cigarette between my lips and shoved my hands in my pockets. I guess it was back to the squatter side of town until I could figure out somethin' else.

Then, I thought, why do I need a place of my own? That's just more work. I'm okay with this lifestyle. Movin' from place to place keeps me busy, after all. Just gives me more freedom.

So, with my head held high and a smirk on my face, I waltzed my way back to the squatter end of town and planted myself on an empty bedroll.