Surviving the Apocalypse With My Yandere Ex-Girlfriend

Even tied up, the kid’s eyes were enough to make me question everything.

It wasn’t the anger alone. I had seen anger before. I had lived in it. This was something sharper. Focused. Personal. It didn’t flicker or fade. It stayed locked on me like it had somewhere to be.

And I had him sitting there in bandages.

Bandages.

I glanced down at my hands for a second, at the dried blood along my knuckles and the fresh wrap around his arm. It felt wrong in a way I couldn’t explain. Like I had picked a side and then switched halfway through.

Part of me kept saying I should’ve just ended it. Put a bullet in his head when I had the chance. Clean. Simple. Done.

That was the rule now, wasn’t it?

Do what you need to survive.

No hesitation.

No second chances.

But when I looked at him—really looked at him—I couldn’t do it. He wasn’t some faceless threat. He was a kid with dirt on his face, dried tears stuck in the corners of his eyes, and a jaw clenched so tight it looked like it hurt.

The world had taken a lot from me.

It hadn’t taken that yet.

"Wanna tell me your name, kid?" I asked.

My voice came out calm, maybe too calm. Like I was trying to pretend this was normal.

"Stop calling me that," he shot back.

I looked up from my gun, raising an eyebrow slightly. There was a quick twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he regretted snapping but wasn’t about to take it back.

"You ain’t grown enough," I said. "You don’t even have a beard."

His jaw tightened harder. I could see the muscle flex near his ear.

"I’m obviously still older than you by a good margin."

It wasn’t by much. Two, maybe three years. Still counted.

He didn’t respond. Just looked down at the dirt between his boots, shoulders tense, fingers twitching slightly against the rope binding his wrists.

I found myself frowning too.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It pressed in on all of us. I could feel Naomi behind me, shifting her weight, unsure where to look. Every time the kid moved even an inch, her grip on her rifle tightened just a little more.

Lila leaned against a tree a few feet away.

She hadn’t said a word.

But her eyes never left him.

They tracked every movement. Every breath. Every shift of his shoulders. There was something cold in the way she watched him, like she was already deciding how she’d do it if I gave the word.

I exhaled slowly through my nose.

"...kill me."

The words were quiet, but they cut through everything.

I looked up.

"What?"

He lifted his head just enough to meet my eyes again. There was no hesitation now. No doubt.

"You think you get to sit here? Patch me up? Act like you have sympathy...?" His voice cracked slightly, but he pushed through it. "You’re a fucking murderer. Kill me like you killed my dad."

That one landed.

Not hard enough to shake me, but enough to make something shift.

My eyes narrowed slightly as I studied his face. The shape of it. The eyes. The way his lip trembled when he said "dad."

Then it clicked.

Recognition didn’t come all at once. It slid into place piece by piece until it settled.

My expression changed before I could stop it.

"You’re that kid," I said.

He let out a shaky breath, and for a second, his mouth curved into something that almost looked like a smile.

It wasn’t.

It was too tight. Too broken.

"I’m glad you remembered my face," he said.

His voice was quieter now, but steadier. Like he had been waiting for this part.

"It’ll be the same one that kills you. One way or another. You’re gonna pay for what you did... I swear to God you will."

I tilted my head slightly, studying him.

"Pay for what I did?" I repeated.

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at me like the question itself was an insult.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck before letting my hand fall back to my side.

"Look, I get it was your dad and all," I said, keeping my tone even. "But he was an asshole. He shot at me first, for fuck’s sake. He had it coming."

The change in his face was immediate.

His eyes darkened. Not just angry—something deeper. His lips parted slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

"He said it himself," I went on. "It’s a dog eat dog world out here."

"Then why don’t you just kill me too!?" he snapped.

The volume hit harder than the words. It echoed through the trees, sharp enough that Naomi flinched behind me.

I felt both of their attention now.

Naomi’s, tense and uncertain.

Lila’s... different.

I didn’t need to look to know her posture had changed. The air around her felt tighter. Like a coiled spring.

I kept my eyes on the kid.

He was breathing hard now, chest rising and falling fast. His hands clenched into fists despite the rope, knuckles whitening as he strained against it.

There were tears in his eyes again, but they didn’t fall.

They just stayed there.

Burning.

I let a few seconds pass before answering.

"I don’t kill kids."

The words came out quieter than I expected.

He laughed.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t even really a laugh. More like a broken sound that slipped out of him before he could stop it.

"Kids?" he repeated, shaking his head slightly. "You think that means anything anymore?"

His eyes flicked past me for a second, landing on Lila, then back to me.

"You think they care?" he went on. "You think any of them out there care how old you are when they rip you apart?"

I didn’t answer.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

He leaned forward slightly, as much as the ropes would allow.

"You killed him," he said again, quieter now. "Right in front of me."

There it was.

Not anger.

Not anymore.

Just truth.

For a second, I didn’t see the kid in front of me.

I saw myself.

Different place. Different time. Same feeling.

The world narrowing down to one moment you couldn’t take back.

I swallowed, my jaw tightening just slightly.

"He would’ve killed me," I said.

The words felt thin the second they left my mouth.

"I don’t care," he said immediately.

No hesitation.

No thought.

Just truth again.

"I don’t care what he would’ve done. You don’t get to decide that. You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies."

I let out a quiet breath through my nose, looking away for a second before bringing my eyes back to him.

"That’s exactly how it works now," I said.

He shook his head slowly.

"No," he said. "That’s how you work."

That one sat heavier than the others.

Behind me, I heard Naomi shift again. A small step. Careful.

Lila still didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

But I could feel her watching me now instead of him.

Waiting.

I looked back at the kid.

At the anger.

At the grief sitting right underneath it.

And for the first time since this whole thing started, I wasn’t sure which one of us was more dangerous.

—

Lila turned before anyone could say another word.

It wasn’t dramatic. No final glare. No threat. Just a quiet pivot and the soft crunch of dirt under her boots as she started walking away from them, shoulders tight, jaw locked.

Distance. She needed distance.

Her hand rose slowly to her mouth.

Then she bit down.

Her teeth sank into the side of her thumb, sharp enough to break skin almost instantly. The metallic taste hit her tongue as blood welled up, but she didn’t stop. She pressed harder, like pain could anchor her—like it could drag her back from whatever was clawing its way up inside her chest.

Don’t.

The urge was louder than anything she’d felt before.

Not just anger.

Not just jealousy.

Something deeper. Colder.

One that had highlighted the very nature that classified her as an infected.

Naomi.

The kid.

Even Adrian, for a split second when he stepped between them.

Her eyes flickered faintly, that red glow pulsing beneath the surface like something trying to break through. Her breathing hitched, uneven, bordering on feral before she forced it down.

Focus.

She bit harder.

A thin line of blood slipped past her lips, trailing down her finger. The sting grounded her, barely, just enough to keep her moving forward instead of turning back.

Behind her, Naomi noticed.

She didn’t say anything at first.

Just watched.

The shift wasn’t loud, but it was there—the tension in Lila’s shoulders, the way her steps weren’t quite steady, the blood on her hand.

Naomi’s grip tightened slightly on her rifle.

"...what the fuck...?" she muttered under her breath, low enough that it didn’t carry far.

But Lila kept walking.

Didn’t turn.

Didn’t slow.

Because if she did—

She knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself.

She knew that, despite being so devout to Adrian’s rules that there’d be a breaking point.

There always was, even for her.