II
I don't remember my age, I know I'm a few years older than 18, somewhere in my 20s. I lived with my family til I was 17. My father had been missing for 3 months, presumed dead. I couldn't care less. Alcohol ran through his veins, leaving him senseless and unaware of the damaged he caused to my mother or me when I interfered. Though I respected the man for feeding his family, I never looked up to him. I don't want to bring a helpless, pure being into such a world where every minute is a struggle for survival. I guess I can understand why he drank, to forget about his past, all the stupid shit he's done, how I do today, but I will never understand how he can put his hands on his own flesh and blood. My mother and I never knew if he just walked off or got lost on a run for supplies. He never really spoke to me unless he was barking commands. I left when mother picked up his habits. My father had taken the rifle and the ammo, so I only had a rusty kitchen cleaver to hunt with, and my mother couldn't eat any more irradiated shit. I guess she had given up. I remember her telling me to go, that I shouldn't stick around to see her rot after she died. I'm still unsure if she committed suicide or died of starvation. I didn't want to see her dead, so I never went back.
After a couple days of nothing, I came across a caravan. They supplied me with feeble 9mm handgun and a few clips. I also got a leather jacket plated with metal and some unspecified type of meat. Anything tastes good with hunger though. I had given them all the caps I had and a pack of cigarettes. They said that there was a large settlement about 13 miles down a the road we were on. The place was called Diaga, it was supposed to be the safest city around due to the number of guards and their armament. The walk took about 4 to 5 hours. I arrived at dusk, with a great thirst and sleep deprivation. I hadn't slept since I left home. I was searched at the gate, and let through after they questioned my reason to be in town. I was directed to the mayors office after asking where I could crash for the night. He set me up with a deal. I kept watch in town. "You can never be too guarded" he laughed. He was a typical male, short, curly hair, aged with years of suffering, from the look of his dull eyes. He had an odd sense of humor though. Like if everything was a joke. I'm surprise he hadn't run the town to the ground. Nice guy overall though. He set me up with a small, cold room at the saloon.
I spent around 6 hazy months there, with a girl I met while having a drink of whiskey. I didn't quite like the taste, but it kept me warm in my freezing housing. The girl and I didn't exchanged names, we just referred to each other with pet names. She called me "darling". She picked it up from some of the music she listened to. Dreadful noise she loved and I put up with. Another thing I put up with were her habits. I didn't mind what she put into her body as long as it wasn't a bullet or another mans appendages. But she eventually took me with her. Literally. We had been so out of it for so long, I stopped making shifts. I'm talking weeks. Some lousy restaurant got raided by the own townspeople. After an argument about trust and responsibility, the mayor decided he wanted us out of town. I'm sure he used too, but he had a reputation to keep up.
The both of us kept together. We eventually exchanged names. Sabrina. I managed to get a car working for a while, but fuel was a bitch to come across. We ended up joining a group of people when picking up. Everyone looked out for each other, but there was no respect. I noticed she went deeper and deeper into numbness caused by the numerous drugs she was on. She took whatever she was offered, and eventually, she was so strung out, she couldn't even think straight. It was after a raid. We had taken out a small town, painting the walls with red and human remains. I was too high to be disturbed by all the death around us. That's how I managed most of my raids. We decided to hole up in the devastated town, since we found a few grams of jet and psycho. She shot up first. Next was Jericho, the most insane mother fucker I had ever met. The guy was practically horny for blood. I took the next needle, deep into my vein. I was soaring, overwhelmed with aggression and thoughts of my father. I felt hot, and the shed got stuffy. I didn't pay attention to Karen, who overdosed on the last of the psycho. I was observing Jericho. He kept watch on Sabrina, watching her, closely. He had bad intention in his eyes. I was out of it. Karen began to convulse, falling to the dirty ground. I began for my sledge hammer and struck him in the ribs. I took a punch myself, from Sabrina, then a few kicks from Jericho. Turns out, they've been doing shit behind my back for a while.
I was left with Karen's pale, sweat-drenched corpse and my clothing. They took my hammer, 9mm and my fucking cigarettes. I felt like I shit. Drained from both emotional and physical strength. I stayed in that decaying town for a few months. Eating what my "friends" didn't take, and drinking the dead residents alcohol. I didn't care too much for what I took, as long as it numbed everything. I had recovered weeks before I left. I hadn't quite sobered up when I departed, but I really wasn't going any where, so it was okay. I drank and indulged myself in the sun.