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A few days had gone by ever since Cynthia remembered everything. What I didn't expect was that we would find those same individuals now in our town. I could hear five of them outside, chanting about killing and ruling as kings of the apocalypse and being able to do whatever they wanted. I took Cynthia to the upstairs room where Jack, Damien and Marge all hid to keep an eye on the group. Cynthia was shaking just at the thought that they were just outside of the house we stayed at. And just as I had expected, all three of them were raring to go.
"This is our chance! Lemme at 'em!" Damien nearly cried aloud, clutching to his two pistols.
"I agree. Let's teach them a lesson," Jack growled lowly, taking out his shotgun. From what I could tell, those two had those weapons fully loaded and were prepared to spray.
"My thoughts exactly. Idiots like them don't deserve to live," Marge seethed, venom dripping from her voice. All three of them are ready to go, I thought smiling to myself. The same could be said for me, but I was more concerned about Cynthia. She had not stopped shaking ever since this all began, clinging to me for dear life. I gave her a gentle squeeze, reassuring her that she would be safe.
"So long as I am going to be the leader of this group," I spoke softly, just enough for Cynthia to hear, "So help me God and all who are holy that I will see to it that these guys do not live past today. Bet on it." I felt Cynthia's head bob up and down on my shoulder in acknowledgement that I would follow through with what I had said. And with that in mind, I stood up, helping Cynthia up with me as Marge, Damien and Jack gave me their full attention.
"Well then," I finally announced, "Let's go greet our... 'guests', shall we?"

We emerged from our house and went up to confront the group. Hearing us, the group of five guys turned to us with cocky expressions. Jack and Damien flanked my sides with Marge directly behind me and Cynthia keeping close to my side. I kept my composure as I stared them down.
"Which one of you guys is the leader here?" I asked, trying to sound authoritative. Each of the guys had one distinction between them; one had blue hair, one had a scar across his left eye, one had a tattoo on his right arm, and one had blood smeared all over his shirt, and the last one wore sunglasses. The one with the blue hair stepped forward.
"What's it to ya, lil' girl?" he jeered, surveying the group. His eyes looked over Damien and Jack first, laughing. "Oh what's this? Two grown-ass guys listening to a little pipsqueak?! Oh she must be SO scary," he said sarcastically. His buddies laughed loudly. I could sense a change of breathing from Damien. He was trying to get on my group's nerves. Thankfully, Jack scoffed and brushed it off.
"You wanna say that after our leader's through with you?" Jack calmly retorted, wearing a cocky smile of his own. The five of them stopped laughing altogether. The leader didn't seem too happy about that, and decided to look towards Marge. His eyes eventually landed on Cynthia, and I felt Cynthia shrink behind me as he smiled sadistically.
"Oooooh, it's the little kitten," he said in a creepy fashion. Just listening to him call her kitten was almost enough to send me over the edge in anger. "Hey guys! Remember her? You know, the kitten that was so good," the leader continued, staring her down, "The one that let us have our way after we took care of the old woman that was with her? Oh, who was that again? Wasn't that your mom, kitten?" He kept going on, taunting her and terrorizing her. I wasn't going to just stand by and let her be abused by this. I put a protective arm around her, pulling her close to me.
"Just who in the name of fuck are you calling kitten, asshole," I seethed, surprising my group as well as them. The leader's eyes widened in surprise, not expecting me to speak up in that fashion. He recovered quickly from his surprise though, and kept smiling smugly. My anger was piling high; I had just about enough of these guys.
"The one I'm calling kitten is the one who I screwed after killing her mom. All because I could," he laughed maniacally, "She was fast for awhile, but I still managed to get her. She passed out, too, giving us about two days worth of time to play around with her. She was tight, I tell you. My boys agreed once they had a go at her, too! Ain't that right, boys?" The rest of his group laughed and cheered in unison. That was the last straw; not just for me but for everyone in my group. Jack cocked his shotgun, Damien whipped out his two pistols; Marge even took out one of the assault rifles we got from the Vegas Mall. I pulled out my bayonet smoothly, flipping it in the air as I broke away from Cynthia, quietly telling her to get behind Marge. I walked up to the leader, who was still laughing and not paying attention to me. That was fine by me - it was his funeral. I didn't even speak; I plunged my bayonet straight into his heart in one go. His breathing cut short immediately. He slowly looked down towards me and noticed where my bayonet was. I pulled out my bayonet, his disgusting blood splattering my face. He howled in pain, clutching his chest as he bled profusely. His group looked taken aback.

"So," I spoke dangerously, "You want to tell me that you had your way with one of my group? MY group? And you think I'd let you live?" Damien gave a laugh behind me, sounding very pleased at what I had done. "It seems like someone needs to get you guys off your fucking high horse," I continued, eyes darkening. I began to see red - is this what they meant by the phrase "red with anger?" I took a step towards their fallen leader, who still managed to stay alive. His group backed away from him quickly, as he remained frozen in fear with every step I took towards him.
"You are going to pay dearly for what you've done," I spoke again, "And don't think I'll be nice about it and give you a quick and painless one. Oh no. For what you've done, I've got something better in mind. Jack? Damien?" As if on cue, the two of them stepped forward, guns raised and aimed for the rest of the guys. They cowered in fear, afraid of dying. The leader just kept staring at me, trying to remain cool-headed.
"Y-you wouldn't k-k-kill fellow survivors, w-would you?" he tried to reason nervously, obviously afraid of what I might do, "C-come on! W-we can w-w-w-work together! Yeah! W-we can b-become unstoppable! Just-" A shot rang out. I glanced back quickly to find that Damien shot and narrowly missed one of the guys. He was looking straight at the group's blue-haired leader.
"Keep whining and this will get worse," he growled, "Do you honestly think our boss is willing to work with you guys after what you've done to Cynthia? You're out of your goddamn minds."
"That's right," Jack chimed in, adjusting the grip of his shotgun, "Cynthia is a sweet girl with a big heart and that's how you treat her? You really think any of us will let it slide?"
"Come any closer and I'll turn each and everyone of you into Swiss cheese that no even a rat will want," Marge threatened, her tone dripping with venom. She looked ready to destroy them all with her assault rifle. I returned my attention to their leader.
"You heard them," I told him calmly, displaying my bloody bayonet for him to see, "They're right, you know. I'm not going to be working with you scumbags anytime soon. I'm too angry for negotiations at the moment. Plus..." I raised my hand, signalling for all three of them to get ready. The leader's eyes widened in horror, turning his attention towards his group, who froze in fear. I scoffed loudly, knowing that he could hear me.

"I promised my girl that you wouldn't live if she ever heard or saw you again," I concluded, thrusting my hand down in a chopping motion. With that signal, all three of them rained a torrent of bullets towards the four bastards in the blue-haired man's group. In seconds, the four guys were reduced into unrecognizable piles of mush and bullet casings. It looked so gruesome that I knew for a fact that they would not even get to reanimate and come back from that maelstrom. The leader just stared at the pile of flesh that was once his group, his face growing pale as I rose from my position. All three of them approached me, with Cynthia rushing to my side. I wrapped an arm around her protectively as I stared down at the man that caused her so much pain. She finally stared at him too, no longer scared of the man that caused her so much pain.
"Cynthia?" I asked her, keeping my gaze on him, "Would you like to do the honors?"
"Gladly," Cynthia replied calmly. I turned to face Damien, who happily gave me one of his pistols. I handed it to Cynthia, "Go ahead then. He's all yours." Cynthia finally turned to face me, silently asking me permission. I gladly gave her my blessing with a nod of my head. She smiled, pecked me on the cheek, and returned to face him.
"You disgusting bastard," Cynthia spoke lowly, aiming the gun at him, "You took everything away from me and left me to die alone and hurt. You trampled all over me and tore me apart without a second thought. And now, I get to return the favor." She fired once into his leg. He screamed loudly, clutching his leg. She fired again, this time striking the arm that held his leg. She then fired rapidly at him, just numbly pressing the trigger as he screamed in pain shot after shot. Eventually, she ran out of bullets. She managed to keep him just barely alive, handing the empty gun back to Damien, who looked rather pleased. She turned to me.
"Zee, thank you," She smiled, "May I ask you to let me use your bayonet?"
"Of course," I replied with no hesitation, handing her my bayonet. She smiled sweetly, and also took me by surprise when she kissed me on the lips. Soft, I thought dumbly. My mind blanked out at that as she smiled and turned to face him, my bayonet in hand.

"This is what you deserve. Go to hell, and never come back," were Cynthia's last words to him as she plunged the knife straight into his eye, holding it there so that he couldn't move. He shrieked in pain, shaking me from my reverie. I watched as she held the bayonet there in his right eye, making sure that she didn't pierce through his skull just yet. I kept my gaze on him as I watched Cynthia tear away his five senses one by one, starting with his sight. Then his sense of hearing. Next was his sense of smell. Then I watched her hack off each of the joints of his fingers, making sure that he kept feeling an endless wave of pain. Finally, after the torture, I watched her pull out his tongue. She didn't even cut it off; she stuck the knife through the tongue and began to pull, tearing it away from his body forcefully until he began to choke on his own blood. At last, after all of that, she finally thrust my blade straight into his skull, and he stopped moving altogether. Breathing a sigh of relief, she began crying again. This time, she was crying in joy, finally able to overcome her fear of what those men did to her. I smiled as well. She was finally past her nightmare. It was finally over for her.

She could now move on with her life, without having to be afraid of them ever again. That alone was enough to make me smile.