We walked our first fifteen or so miles today. Had to veer off course a few miles North before we stopped to rest, as far away as we can get from humanity.
I miss the bunker already, wonder if I'm too old for a new beginning. I'm certain that I'm not worthy of it… but I don't want Melody to die alone in a concrete box one day.
It's hard for me to put words to how sudden and absolute my sense of responsibility towards her has been. I never wanted children, not really. I think I've seen too many of them suffer and die senselessly for that. I'm not sure I thought of myself as qualified, either. Not after… everything. I want to do better, though. For her.
I want so many things for her. Sometimes I let my mind drift, imagining the life she had before we found her. There's this itch at the back of my mind to turn around and burn everything that's ever touched her.
I need to sleep. We're trading off guard duty, and I hope so desperately that nobody finds us. The last thing I need on my conscience is a trail of NCR conscripts left in our wake.