Life in an Apocalypse

Chapter 18

     I came to in the evening later to find Cynthia crying over me. I was once again covered in bandages and my muscles were sore. But what I realized hurt me more was to hear Cynthia's quiet sobs as she sat on the bed next to me, holding my hand tightly. I could hear her mutter my name ever so slightly. I turned my head to look around the room, noticing that Jack, Marge and Damien were in the room as well. They too had suffered some injuries, but I smiled in relief when I noticed that they were rather minor. I shifted my body to sit up straight, gaining the attention of my entire group. 
    "Zee! Thank goodness!" Cynthia cried out, tackling me into a tight hug. I held my breath from the pain of the impact and returned the hug. I noticed Jack and Marge holding hands tenderly as Damien grinned like a goof.
    "So... what happened?" I tried to sound normal, although I'm sure that the strength of Cynthia's tackle hugs constantly wind me. Thankfully, I don't think any of them noticed.
    "You were shot," Cynthia explained to me in between her sobs, "Jack and Damien managed to kill the two guys but the woman escaped. We thought- I thought- you-." She buried her face into my shoulder again. I took this time to gather my thoughts. Her story would explain why I was in so much pain. My back felt like it was on fire and as much as I wanted to stand up and walk about, I still felt too light-headed to really function properly. 
    "Need anything?" Marge asked me, walking over. I shook my head and leaned my head towards the wall. "It's nice to know that none of you guys were injured," I began to say, "But I'm a bit concerned that the woman got away. She won't be able to do anything if she relies on a group but I would still like to be wary of her."
    "None of us were hurt? Speak for yourself," Damien retorted, a hint of anger in his voice, "We're quite pissed that you got injured on our behalf despite just waking up from whatever the hell you had a few hours ago. Hell, Cynthia's been worried sick!" 
    "Damien, hush," Marge scolded him softly. She returned her attention to me. "He is right, though," she said, "Don't take your life so lightly. She relies on you, and you better hold yourself accountable." I grimaced inwardly. It was especially hard for me to hear that considering that I know fully well how Cynthia... feels about me. 
    "Now I think we should leave you two alone," Jack spoke up, glancing to Damien and Marge. The three of them walked out of the room in silence, leaving me with Cynthia resting her head on my shoulder. 

    I continued to look towards the door absentmindedly. Somewhere in my mind I figured out why they left the room like this. Just observing Cynthia in the way she is now was a sure-fire sign of that particular reason. I knew she cared for me. A lot. Which is probably why it hurt me more when she finally pushed away from me and looked into my eyes. Her eyes were red from crying so much, and they were still glazed over from the grief of knowing that I protected her from harm and almost dying again for it. 
    "How long was I out for this time?" I asked her softly. She leaned back, sitting crisscrossed in front of me, fiddling with her hands. She seemed hesitant to say. 
    "A while," She finally replied after a few moments of awkward silence. I swallowed hard. I wanted to continue the conversation in hopes of trying to have her focus her mind elsewhere. I wracked my brain for ideas on conversation topics, but I ended up thinking about nothing. 
    "Why?" I heard Cynthia mutter. I leaned forward towards her, trying to listen. 
    "What do you mean?" I asked, forcing a smile to lighten the mood. Cynthia didn't notice. 
    "Why is it that you always get hurt for me?" Cynthia spoke again, slightly louder, "Why is it that every single time I'm in danger, you're constantly the one who gets hurt instead of me? Why is it that every time I'm with you, it always ends up with you getting seriously hurt in some way?!" Her voice was rising more in anger. I couldn't understand why. Why is she so angry about me getting hurt, I wondered.
    "I'm tired of having to wish and pray that you would wake up from whatever injury you got!" Cynthia was shouting now, clenching her fists in her lap, "Every. Single. Time! I want to help you but I can't because I'm weak! I'm tired of crying for you to wake up! Why do I have to be this way?! WHY?!" She shut her eyes tightly in frustration, tears streaming down with no signs of stopping anytime soon. I was taken aback by her outbursts. Honestly, a shy and timid girl to raise her voice is a scary thing to behold. Cynthia shifted her position and embraced me again. She cried into my shoulder as she banged her fists lightly into my chest in frustration. I kept silent throughout the entire thing. I didn't know how to react to this. All I could do was sit there, taking the light punches of Cynthia' fists thumping against the wounds on my chest. They hurt a lot, but I didn't even register the pain with how I felt with Cynthia then. She eventually calmed down and reduced herself into uncontrollable sobs, gripping my vest in one hand and sobbing her heart out. I finally decided to respond by wrapping my arms around her shaken form. She twitched from the sudden contact, moving away slightly to look at me. I hugged her tighter, keeping her close. It was the only way I could really think of to comfort her.