Dad always used to tell me I was special. Now I know that's nothing but a load of shit.

My dad was a good father. Was. Back before he ran off and left me alone with this alone with the mess he created. Before I was thrown out into this world on my own, gun shots ringing out after me as I was kicked out the door.

Dad always told me I was special.

And I know I shouldn't be angry, I know he cared. But every time he looked at me I could see the pain in his eyes paying for the loss of the woman I've never met but wish so badly I had.

My mother.

I can't help but wonder still if he looked at me like that because he loved me or because he missed her. I wonder which of us he would've picked to survive if he had the choice.

I shouldn't think this way. Dad did the best he could all alone, without a mother to be found, with a son who was treated like an outcast. I wonder how I never realize why people seem to treat dad and I so different. I guess I couldn't have been asked, being a dumb teenager busy desperately trying to fit in trying to fit in, trying to make Amata feel for me the way I felt for her. Maybe if I noticed dad might've taken me with him

Maybe together we could've escaped the vault that hated us so much. And we could've brought Jonas to.

Jonas. It hurts to think about. The man who had been more of a father to me than Dad ever was. Hell, he'd practically raised me, I can't remember moment without him.

And the overseer's men had just gunned him down like he was some kind of animal.

Is this what you thought would happen dad? You always told me I was special but in the moment I needed you most you left me without a trace you were gone. The only life I'd ever known, gone.

Because of you I left everything behind. Every place I've ever been, every person I'd ever meet, every memory I've ever made, gone. Gone forever

And I discovered a whole new world world I'd never possibly have thought existed. A world without walls and doors and rulers and laws and the guidance of a benevolent overseer. A world where a person would be shot for a bottle of clean water, or a scrap of 200 year old processed food. A world where monsters beyond any nightmare I ever could've dreamed up existed, and that was a part of every day life.

And you knew about this, Dad? You knew, and you left me. Did you really think you could just leave me, and everything would be fine, and things could go back to the way they were? You were a good man Dad, but have you always been so naïve? Did you think you wouldn't leave a trail of pain in your wake?

And I don't even know where you are you couldn't even have left me a clue. Just a gigantic mess, before I was sent running for my life, never to return to the only home I've ever known.

You always told me I was special.

I shake my head, grinding my teeth as bullets slam into the wall by my side. I crouch, pressing myself against the tiled wall in the bath in my bathroom sanctuary, gasping for breath as I fight every instinct to break down and scream and cry.

I never thought it would be like this. I sure don't feel special now

I stare at the dirty yellowed stalls across from me, trying to focus on them as an anchor as I heave rapidly, shaking, dripping with sweat.

My fingers clenchand unclench, I feel the muscles in my jaw ache from gritting my teeth together so hard. The handle of my pistol, held tightly in my right hand, is slick with sweat. But my hand is cold, lifeless. I don't know how many bullets I have left. I let off a few shots as I ran and dove for cover. I must have around half a clip at least.

Dammit, why didn't I count my shots. That was the one thing that raider back in Megaton had told me to do.

What was his name? I can't even remember.

"Little boy thought he'd be a big man?"

I hear a voice ring out, taunting me in a singsong manner "come out little baby boy! You've had your fun now let us show you what grown-ups do to pretty little boys like you!"

Oh shit.

I feel my eyes widen, I can't even breathe anymore. Terror washes over me, and I feel paralyzed. I can't move, can't breathe. Everything feels so cold.

I lean my head forward, and move too fast, yanking myself forward so my chin slams against the top of my chest. Sweaty locks of my shaggy hair fall into my eyes making me blink rapidly.

But it's enough to snap me out of my stupor. I run my trembling left hand through my hair, Combing it back off of my forehead and out of my eyes. I can't just shut down. I can't just sit here forever, listening to bullets hammer the wall just outside the entryway, half cursing, half missing my father.

I have to move.

I push myself up to my feet, still pressing against the wall. I edge myself closer to the bathroom entrance when I realize things have suddenly gone quiet.

"Gotcha pretty boy!" a man lunges through the door, a sneer in his voice as he raises his rifle towards the far wall, opposite me.

The man is 2 feet away, but by sheerest luck, he doesn't see me, expecting me to be on the other side of the bathroom. I see his clothes are ragged, his body half naked, the clothes areas adorned with spikes and bones. He's tall, a full head taller than me, and a short, bleached blonde mohawk sits on top of a dirty, unwashed skull.

"Hidin' in the stalls, little baby boy? Don't be scared, you'll learn to love what a real man can do!" the man mocks, ending with a throaty laugh.

He takes a step forward. I can tell he's examining the stalls. Checking for my feet, in the gaps down below. And I know. I have less than a second to act before I'm dead, or worse.

I raise the pistol, I'm so close to the raider that the barrel of my pistol almost touches the back of his mohawk. And I squeeze the trigger.

I've never killed a man before. I expect it to be some kind of big, momentous, life-changing moment. But it isn't. I feel nothing, as I watch the bullet exit the chamber, punching through the back of the raider's head and spraying blood and brain matter out in front of him.

The raider drops with a loud, wet thud, not even uttering a scream. Only after he falls do I realize how badly my hand is shaking. If he had been just a bit further away, I might've missed.

I feel so pathetic.

"Donny!" a shrill woman's voice calls out," ya get 'im?"

I whip around to see a woman, clad in scrappy clothes and bone fragments like the last man enter the bathroom. She wears a crooked, rotting smile, but it disappears as her eyes lock with mine.

She reaches for a knife. Without thinking, or even aiming, I point my pistol at her and pull the trigger.

The bullet hits her, low in her exposed midsection. She staggers back, twitching and reaching to touch the bloody wound in her stomach. Her eyes lock back onto mine, and even through the dark, I can tell she's on some kind of chem, probably a lot more than one, from what I've seen and heard.

I take aim and shoot the raider in the chest, just above her barely covered left breast, and she goes down, her head striking the wall to her right.

That's two people killed in the span of as many seconds. And I still don't feel a thing. All I can focus on is keeping myself from shaking and vomiting from the adrenaline rushing through my veins.

I make my way down the corridor, keeping crouched and pressed to the right wall, stopping only once I reach the end. It would be suicide to barge out into the fast, open space of the Super Duper Mart's central room, even if there were aisles set up as some form of cover.

It's dark, but empty as far as I can tell. Yet I can hear footsteps, across to the opposite side of the massive room. That means there's more of them. And there's no way they hadn't heard those gunshots. I have to be ready, or I'm going to die.

I wish I could've stayed in the vault. All my problems from back then seems so trivial now. God, I'd give anything to go back.

I rushed to the first aisle, quickly surveying my surroundings, using it as cover. No one spotted me, but I can hear the footsteps coming closer. I glanced soft to my right, and see another raider, staring out blankly into the central room. I guess his eyesight isn't so good, because he hasn't started firing at me from behind the counter.

I scoot down the aisle, pausing as I reach the end. If I wanted to I could make a mad dash for the exit, and run all the way back to that town, Megaton. I might even survive.

But no. No, I have a job to do. The only person who had been kind to me, Moira, had asked me to help her. I can't just give up, and come back empty-handed, my head hung in the feet.

I take a deep breath and turn the corner, darting to the next aisle wall. I see two more raiders as I make my silent dash, one holding a pool cue, the other with a patchwork rifle like the one the first man had I'd killed had.

Incredibly, they don't see me. I think they were both looking at each other. I press myself flat against the aisle, and begin to edge myself down the opposite way, towards the back wall with what appeared to be offices, behind counters. And I know now I've lost the only chance I might've had an easy escape.

"I swear, if those two idiots got killed by some wasteland we wannabe hero," one of the raiders shakes his head, as he and his companion pass me by.

I keep my eyes on them, as a side step as silently as I can. They're nearly passed me now, and I feel myself begin to relax. I take another side step, still watching the raiders, when I bump into a bucket.

My heart stops, as I reach to steady the metal bucket. But instead of steadying it, I move too fast, and cause it to tip, spilling it's cold contents on me.

My pants are now soaked with cold water. No, not water. I inhale the foul scent of dehydrated urine, as my head whips back towards the two raiders, who heard the sound of the metal bucket hit the ground and splash it's foul contents all over me.

"There he is!" The raider with the rifle yells, taking a wild shot.

I raise my pistol and let loose three rounds, then take off running. I hear a scream behind me, and know that at least one of my shots must've hit its mark.

But judging by the thumping of running feet behind me, I know I only had one.

I feel a gust of wind, a split second before something smashes into my right thigh, making me stumble and slam against an aisle wall to my left. I look up frantically, and see the man with the pool cue bringing his weapon to bear for another strike.

My leg stings, pain searing through me like it never has before. But I ignore it and raise my pistol, the raider's head in my sites.

The raider's eyes widen, he attempts to take a step back, knowing there is no cover to be found. But he's too slow, and I squeeze the trigger.

Click.

Oh, shit.

The raider's mouth goes from agape in horror into a cruel smile, as he attempts to swing his pool cue at me. But he's off-balance, from the step backwards, and the wooden pole glances off my left forearm, giving me the time I need to scramble away into a run.

I got lucky with the blow to my arm, although it certainly stings. My leg hurts like hell, but I have to keep running.

My spare bullets jangle in my pack, taunting me as though they know I'll never be able to use them. I tuck my pistol away into my pack as I continue running.

"I got 'im!" a man's high pitched voice rings out.

The man behind the counter in front of me raises his weapon, a sub machine gun by the looks of it. I can't make out his face, his skin is so dark, but I imagine he's tweaking on something fierce like the rest of this gang.

The raider sprays deaths from his sub machine gun, I feel a bullet whip past me, then another slide past my shoulder, grazing me enough that I feel it's burn.

"Dyno, stop! Watch where you're firing!" The man with the pool cue's screams are cut short.

I dare to take a glance back, and see a bullet wound in my pursuer's chest, as he slumps against the far aisle. In the dark like this, aiming from a distance can't be easy. Especially if someone's already high on chems. Not that I'm complaining.

"I got 'im! I got the bitch!" the high pitched man's voice rings out," telling me to watch my aim. At least I'm good enough at shooting to have a gun."

I sneak my way forwards, ducking beneath the counter, opposite from the raider. I no longer shake and tremble. I am no longer the boy I was, just a few minutes ago. I understand now.

In this world, I must kill, or be killed.

I draw my knife, knowing I can't reload my pistol silently, and vault myself over the counter. The raider raises his hands, as I lunge at him, aiming for his chest with the blade.

I miss, and hit him in the shoulder.

The raider screams, as I tackle him to the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him attempt to aim his sub machine gun in my direction with his right hand, as he grabs my wrist with his left. I drive a knife deeper and twist, causing the raider to let out another cry of pain.

I knock the gun out of the raider's grip, then proceeded to smash him in the face with my fist, twisting the knife for all the while. I feel the man's grip on my wrist weekend, just enough I can rip the knife out, and drive it into his throat.

Blood gurgles and foams at the raider's lips, as he coughs weekly. I tear the knife away, spraying myself with hot blood. My jaw hurts, and I realize it's because I still haven't unclenched it since setting foot in the Super Duper Mart. In fact, my whole body aches. The pain in my leg, my forearm, the grays against my left shoulder. Everything hurts.

The man chokes, and I drive the knife down again, and again, and again. I only stop when he doesn't move anymore.

I roll off the lifeless corpse, gasping and heaving. Killing someone like that, up close, just makes me feel… Different. Sick. But I had to do it. I know I had to.

Is this what you had wanted for me, dad?

"What's going on?" a woman with a raspy voice stares at the gory scene played out before her.

I scramble for the sub machine gun, as she lets out two shots from her sought off shotgun. They both miss me, but they hit the weapon, causing it to shatter apart and help me with shrapnel.

The raider pops the expanded showers from her sought off, as I look frantically for an escape. My head whips to the right, but the counter is too far for me to be able to escape that way. I turn to the left, my eyes hunting desperately for something.

And I see it. A door, with a terminal computer of some kind next to it.

I throw myself at it, and just in time, as I hear the twin shotgun blast behind me, echoing through the office. I slam into the door with all my might, knocking it open and falling down on my face. My forehead bangs against the floor, and pain floods through my head and a dull throb.

But I have no time to wallow in my misery. I scramble to my feet, swinging the door closed in the raider's face. But I cannot stand here, holding this door shut. Eventually, she'll break it down. Or shoot me through it. Or both, and she and her raider companions will do unspeakable things to me.

I take in my surroundings, and the first thing I see are shelves.

Perfect.

I grab one within arms reach, and yank as hard as I can against it. The shelf totters, then crashes down against the door. It's not much, but it'll give me some time.

I run to the next shelf, and pull it against the door, spilling its contents all over the floor. Then I rushed to the next one, hoping to barricade the door with as many shells as I can find.

The raider bangs and pounds against the door, but it will not budge. For the moment at least, I am safe.

I slump against the shelves, allowing my eyes to wander across the room. And then I see it.

A laser pistol, ammunition, medicine, and a terminal connected to a protectron robot.

I might have an idea. And if it fails, I won't be coming out alive.