Life in an Apocalypse

Chapter 13

Warning: this chapter contains scenes of sexual violence. You have been warned.

     "It all started right before the Catastrophe," Cynthia began, adjusting herself, "I just turned eighteen, I think, so about seven months ago. My parents and I were together and we were happy. My dad was a mechanic for a company that needed his engineering capabilities to manage science equipment for a laboratory, and my mom stayed at home to raise me, their only child. We were relatively happy with what we had together. At least, until that day.
    "It started out normally enough. I was just at home when the explosion showed up on the news one day. It blew up building after building even as the news crews were there. I remember watching Mom cry after one of the buildings exploded. When I asked what was wrong, she told me that Dad's building was one of the ones that exploded just then. My town freaked out, and chaos was everywhere. Mom and I ran away for a long time, and for two weeks we ran aimlessly just trying to survive. We ran into a group of bad people, who attacked us even though we said we would give them all we had. They...", Cynthia trailed off, beginning to sob at the memory. I didn't want to pry any more; I knew enough to understand that her mother was most likely killed that day. 
    "I kept running after that, but they kept chasing me," Cynthia continued after a few moments of calming herself, "They threw sharp rocks at me, shot at me, and tortured me whenever I got caught. I kept escaping from them, but the cycle kept going. At last, I ran out of energy and incentive to keep going, and they caught me for one last time. I... I can't remember what happened then, but I... I remember hearing... a noise... like... like fabric tearing... And then... Then..." I raised my hand up as a sign for her to stop talking. I knew she had it rough when Marge found her, but this? Just thinking about it made me shake in anger. I clenched my fist tightly. Here sat Cynthia, carrying the burden of what she suffered, and all for what? It just seemed so unfair. So horrible. 

    "...will pay," I muttered lowly. 
    "Huh?" Cynthia said in a questioning manner. I guess she heard me. I didn't care; I was too angry at the moment to care about that.
    "They... will pay," I said again, this time in a louder and more determined manner, "If I ever see those guys again... If they ever get close to you again... I'll make them pay..." 
    "Zee...," Cynthia breathed, placing a hand over her chest. I got off of the desk and walked over to her. I knelt down on one knee and took both of her hands into mine, resting them on her lap in front of me. I looked straight at her, feeling determined to protect her from whoever wished to hurt her this way.
    "We'll need to tell them eventually," I spoke softly to her, keeping my gaze, "That way they can protect you as well. You don't deserve that kind of treatment. No one does. Especially not one as caring and compassionate as you." Cynthia's eyes welled up and she shut them tightly, trying not to cry. I smiled and rose from my knees, pulling her up with me. I pulled her into a hug and let her cry freely onto my shoulder. She didn't even resist, gripping my vest tightly as she wailed to her heart's content. We stayed that way for a good few hours at best before she was calm enough for us to return to the group. Jack was the first to notice us.

    "Well, I assume it went smoothly?" he asked, smiling.   
    "As well as it could ever go, Jack," I replied in kind, flashing a smile in return. I turned to the rest of the group and turned into a more serious demeanor. "There's something I need to discuss with everyone. Please give me your attention." Cynthia stayed close to me, squeezing my hand. As I explained what I had heard from Cynthia, I would squeeze back in reassurance that she would be safe. Just as I expected, all three of them felt the same way I did. Damien shouted a string of curses while Jack's expression grew dark. Marge kept a level head as she always did, but I could tell that she was fuming. 
    "And that's what happened to Cynthia," I finished her story. Cynthia grabbed my shoulders and turned me towards her to draw me into a hug, shaking in fear from the recounting. I hugged her tightly in response, expecting that kind of reaction. Marge clenched her fists tightly at the sight of Cynthia shaking in fear.
    "This is ridiculous," Damien said after calming down, "Who in their right mind would do that to a girl?!"
    "I feel the same," Jack seethed, "I would definitely like to meet them. And make sure that they don't live to see another day."
    "Save some for me," Marge growled lowly, "If I don't get at least thirty punches into them, I'd live the rest of my life in regret."
    "Calm down, all of you," I consoled my angry group, "I'm just as angry. Trust me." The three of them fell silent, looking at me with attentive eyes. I guess my emotions were evident. I must have frightened them a bit from how I looked; they stepped back in shock at the sight of me. I took in a deep breath to calm myself. I didn't want to get as riled up as them; as a leader, I needed to be level-headed. 
    "You guys know how much I care about Cynthia," I told them, "This kind of thing is messed up, and if things really went the way I hear they did, I know for a sure fact that I WILL kill them without a piece of remorse." I said this in a way that must have come across as too calm. Damien gulped loudly, Jack cleared his throat, and even Marge turned a bit pale. Cynthia hugged me a bit tighter. I hugged her back gently, but firmly enough to hopefully portray that I meant what I said.

     I did mean it after all; I was prepared to kill them if they ever came across us. I just didn't think it was so soon.