Prologue
A man is meant to protect his family. He's meant to keep them safe no matter what it costs him. But I couldn't save my Natalie. I couldn't save our little girl. So what does that make me? I'm not sure if I can take much more of this. Every time close my eyes I see them die over and over again. I hear their screams in every quiet moment. The nightmares are more and more vivid every time I fall asleep for even a moment. Why wasn't I strong enough? Why didn't I act quicker? Why didn't I fight harder? I could've saved them if I'd just been good enough. I should've been able to save them. I promised her that I would never let anything happen to them. The knife should've opened my neck. It should have been me. I promised them that I would protect them and I failed.
My name is John Reynolds and I am a failure. I should've died with them in the desert. I should have fought harder when they came for us. I should have never let them near her. I could've given them a chance to escape if I'd lunged at him. That sight of his sneering face and that damned red plume are burned into my memory like a brahmin brand. He butchered them and laughed while he did it. I just can't get the look of fear and pain in her eyes out my mind. I can't stop hearing the screams of my sweet little girl as they cut her down. Those monsters made me watch while they did it and laughed all the more. I should've died with them but they left me alive to torture me. Or maybe they thought that I would die on that jagged old cross they tied me to. I wish that I had. At least then I wouldn't go on living with the memory of my failure. At least I would be with them in whatever comes after this life. By all rights I should've died. The truth is I nearly did. Every agonizing moment took closer to the relief of death as I was forced to look at their bodies.\
I would be dead if he hadn't saved me. He cut me down just as I was losing consciousness. Or maybe I was dying. The last thing I remember before the blackness came is the flourish of his coat and the number stitched to the back of it. I don't know whether I should thank him or curse him. It seems a strange thing to say. But I wish that I had died on that cross. It would've been better that this waking nightmare that I am forced to endure. At least I would've paid for my failure. Death would have been peace. But for whatever reason he chose to save me. Was it mercy? It would've been easier to leave me hanging there and let me die with them. But he chose to cut me down and drag my nearly dead body all the way back to New Vegas. It doesn't seem like mercy to me but I'm told that I'm supposed to be grateful. I was supposed to be a lot of things but ended up none of them.
There is a voice that tells me to end it. All I would have to do is jump off Hoover Dam. If I waited until a guard rotation it would be all too easy. As easy as one little step over the edge. It would be easier if I did. I would finally be with them again and it would atone for my failure. But I just can't do it. I wish that I could. The thought appeals to me. To just close my eyes and take that step. I don't know that I can bear the torment in my mind much longer. It would be easier to let go. I wonder if it would hurt. Would I feel anything at all? But no matter how many times I try I just can't do it. Something always pulls me back from the edge. I wish that it would let me go. But instead I am left here to continue in this torment another day. Perhaps there is some reason for it though I can't see it. Perhaps there is a reason the stranger chose to save me. Perhaps there is a reason for this agony. I wish I knew why I'm still here while they aren't.
My name is John Reynolds and I am here. Just here. Whatever that means.