Addicted

Burn

Burning.

All she felt was burning.

From her finger tips, to the roots of each hair follicle on her body's length, to the very tips of her toes.

Fire.

It felt exactly like fire. Her skin felt scorched. This is what she imagined ghoulification felt like when those bombs dropped and some people didn't have a chance to escape.

A fever? An illness? Her sub-conscious had no idea what was going on.

Her mind swam frantically, like a fish trapped in a net. Why did she feel damp all over? Sweat. She realized she was sweating profusely from each pore in her body. Why wouldn't it stop?  She swore she could feel it coming out of each and every pore.

She was vaguely aware of her surroundings. There were many metallic echoes in her head, like she was in the hull of a pre-war submarine. But there was no way that was where she was.

God damn why did she rely on those Chems so hard? That hit of Ultra-Jet had hit her HARD. Like she was hit by a truck. She remembered taking it, but nothing else after. Just an inhale and then blackness. And blackness still. Where was she at to begin with? Sanctuary? Diamond City? Vault 111? She honestly couldn't begin to remember, and part of her really didn't care.

God that burning sensation was horrific. She needed to open her eyes and find out where she was, maybe then this burning would stop. She tried to fight it as much as possible, but she couldn't open her eyes, couldn't move her body. It was like she was locked in a bunch of cement. She wanted to panic, wanted to scream, but couldn't.

What is this? It was deeply unsettling. A hit of Jet would take the anxious edge off, she knew that. She just had no way to get to it. She continued to fight through it. Slowly the burning faded away and slowly she slipped back into nothingness as she continued to hear the metallic noises of the outside world. The noises faded gently until...nothing at all.

************

Her heart skipped a beat. She looked down at her right hand. A tingle spreading from their tips and up her arm. She met the eyes of the man who's hand was in hers.

Arthur Maxson. Those blue eyes sent tiny shivers down her neck as their gazes were locked together. She felt her neck and cheeks heat up gently.

He had just asked her if she was "okay". What kind of question was that? She thought briefly to herself.

She had awoken just over a year ago in a cryogenic chamber, in which she had been tricked into by the sick company that was Vault-Tec. During that time she watched her own husband get murdered as a formidable, and unknown, foe stole her son.

After being forcefully unfrozen and slowly piecing together what was going on and what had happened, she began her adventures across a vast wasteland, a very vague representation of the world she had once known, in search of her son. After months of travelling, fighting, negotiating, helping others out, scraping by, and hoop-jumping she finally found him. But then she had to deal with the fact that he had aged 60 years in her absence. He wasn't baby Shaun anymore. Her beloved son who had his fathers eyes and her auburn flash of hair who had cuddled into the crook of her arm so many years ago. He was grown-up, aged, and brainwashed Shaun; not her son. If things couldn't be any worse he was the head of the most feared thing in the Commonwealth: the Institute.

Was she okay? Was she really?

She snapped back to reality. Arthur's eyes roving her face while he waited for a reply.

A smile played on her lips as she gave his hand a squeeze.

"I'm okay." She lied softly before she walked away, leaving Arthur Maxson to himself, but also leaving behind any inch of sanity she felt like she had left. She would have to fake it for the rest of the night.

Of course she wasn't okay, who was she trying to fool?

The Sole Survivor everyone had come to recognize was about to fold in on herself, little did anyone know.

************