I brought another crate of carrots for my mother to wash off and set it on the counter. Mom dried her hands on her thin apron, lit up another cigarette, perched it between her lips, and took a seat at the kitchen table. By the way she deeply inhaled, I could tell she was tired and sore.
"I'll let these be the last batch," I said. I took the liberty of washing the last crate of carrots myself.
"Thanks, sweetie. I appreciate it. I'm just tired."
"It's fine, Mom."
I was finally fourteen, and my mom treated me as such. My dad, however, didn't treat me much differently than usual — like a nuisance. I just knew that one day I'd be able to do something that he would appreciate. He would see my usefulness eventually and wouldn't treat me like I was always in the way. I was just waiting for that day to present itself.
My brother, on the other hand, was twenty. A full-fledged adult. Dad sent him on errands to town in his place when he was feelin' lazy. That left me to help my mom in the kitchen.
That was fine; I learned a lot from my mom. She was a good cook and an even better caregiver. A lot of times, I wound up makin' dinner when she was feelin' sickly.
As I was finishin' up with the carrots, my brother walked in through the side door with a serious look on his face. I raised an eyebrow in question, but he was motioning to the window over the sink.
I peeked behind the yellowed curtain to see our father standin' a few yards away, talkin' to some mean-looking guys. About three of 'em. They seemed to be really giving him the up-and-down.
"What is it? Who's out there?" Mom asked, gettin' up from her seat.
One look and she was steamin'.
"What's that old fool doing? Another debt that's gone unpaid?" She stomped toward the door, but Guy stopped her. "What are you doing, Guy?"
"Whoever they are, they're heavily armed. You shouldn't go out there, Mom."
"Nonsense. Everyone's heavily armed these days."
"I'm serious, Mom."
"Let us go talk to 'em," I piped up. "There're three men and three of us. Me, Guy, and Dad."
"You aren't a man yet," said Guy in his usual demeaning tone. "You're still a scrawny kid, and I'm not about to let you go out there in the middle of it."
"I can take care of myself. Stop talkin' down to me all the time."
"Boys, stop fighting. Now is hardly the time."
I heard Dad yell. I looked out the window, and one of the men had pushed him like he was pickin' a fight. I knew my dad was an old, unhealthy drunk that couldn't fight back nowadays. Seein' them pick on him like that...
I grabbed the kitchen knife from the cutting board on the counter and made for the door.
"Don't, John!" My mother grabbed my wrist. "Listen to me... both of you."
I hesitantly turned my attention away from the door to look her in the eye.
"Remember that place we talked about? If anything were to happen, you were to go there and wait for me to come and get you. You promised me."
"That was when we were children, Mom —"
"I don't care. A promise is a promise. I want you both to go there. Wait for me to come. If I don't come to get you in the next three hours, just leave. Go to Diamond City where there's protection."
I blinked in surprise. "W-wait, what are you saying? Just... leave you behind? We're not going anywhere without you."
My brother put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a look that clearly said: "shut the hell up." It was like he knew something that I didn't. That's when I started to catch on that she was talkin' about the worst-case scenario.
YOU ARE READING
FO4 | Book 0: The Diaries of Anarchy ✔️
Hayran KurguWho is the John McDonough that hides behind the ghoulish Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbor? Our story begins with a sickly little boy at the age of seven who grew up in an old house on the waterfront, accompanied by his entitled older brother, his submi...