Surviving the Apocalypse With My Yandere Ex-Girlfriend-Chapter 61: Not the Lily I remember

Aubrey smashed the window with the butt of her rifle.

Glass spiderwebbed, then collapsed inward with a soft, dangerous clatter. She reached through immediately, fingers brushing the inside lock, and with a muted click the doors came loose.

Every gun came up at once.

No one spoke.

We slipped inside like a held breath.

The air smelled wrong— stale fabric, dust, old mildew. Mannequins loomed in the dark, half-lit shapes frozen mid-pose, like people who’d stopped running and never finished dying.

"Alright," I said quietly.

My voice sounded steadier than I felt.

"Aubrey. Hale. Left side of the store. Check for infected."

Hale’s eyes lifted to mine. He nodded once, already moving, a suppressed pistol resting easy in his grip.

Aubrey folded her arms for half a second, unimpressed— but she went anyway.

"Lila and I will take the right."

Lila’s head snapped toward me.

Her face lit up.

She didn’t just nod— she practically skipped past me, boots barely making a sound as she moved ahead, knife already in hand like this was a game she’d been waiting to play.

That left the others.

Cherie leaned back against a clothing rack, arms loose, a smile tugging at her mouth. Not sharp. Not mocking.

Just...content.

Like the apocalypse hadn’t managed to take that from her yet.

Terri stood stiff beside her, hands twisting together nervously. Her eyes darted through the dark aisles, every shadow a threat her body already believed in.

Peter shifted his weight.

He cleared his throat.

"Well," he said quietly, glancing back at the group, "what do we do?"

Isabella looked up at him, confused.

Then frowned.

"Dad," she said sharply.

He froze.

So did I.

It had been a while since I’d heard her speak at all.

Longer since she’d called him that.

"...You guys don’t have to do anything," I said after a beat. "We’re just clearing the place. Somewhere to sleep for the night."

Peter didn’t look convinced.

"You five keep watch," I added. "We’ve got it."

He frowned—but nodded.

I turned away before he could argue.

Lila was already halfway down the aisle, glancing back at me with that too-bright smile, eyes shining in the dark like she was daring the world to try something.

I followed her.

Bootsteps soft. Gun steady.

And for the first time since we’d stopped moving—

It felt almost normal.

Almost safe.

Which was exactly what scared me most.

Boots crunched against the broken tile as Aubrey and Hale moved deeper into the store. The noise from outside faded, swallowed by shadow, by aisles of discarded clothing and mannequins frozen mid-pose, staring blankly into nothing.

Aubrey kicked open a door. Guns up, eyes scanning.

"Clear," she whispered.

Hale didn’t acknowledge her, stepping past without slowing.

Aubrey’s eyebrows furrowed. Her fists clenched.

"You’ve been quiet," she spat.

Hale kept walking, eyes ahead.

"There hasn’t been anything to talk about," he replied flatly.

She quickened her pace, keeping up.

"...there’s been something I been meaning to ask you, Hale."

Her voice was cold, hard, and sharp. Before he could respond, she was right beside him.

"How do you feel about Lila? Do you trust her?"

Hale’s jaw tightened. Eyes narrowing.

"I don’t have an opinion of her," he said simply.

Aubrey’s frustration simmered. She searched his eyes for something— anything—but found nothing.

He kept walking.

"That bitch is a fucking psycho. You know it, I know it."

Hale didn’t look back.

"Wasn’t she your friend?" he asked, his tone calm, almost neutral, as Aubrey fell into step.

Silence hung between them like smoke.

"Things are different now." She muttered.

"...Well, like the kid said, we’re all gonna have to get along if it means surviving."

He stopped. Glanced over his shoulder.

Aubrey flinched at the cold weight in his eyes.

"Best thing to do is bury your shit and play nice,"

Aubrey’s eyes widened for a brief moment, almost as if she hadn’t expected him to say that.

The moments stretched, before anger finally settled in her stomach, hot and boiling.

"That’s just gonna get us all killed, and you know it."

Hale sighed, resuming his slow, deliberate walk.

"Especially when it comes to someone like her," Aubrey pressed, stepping closer.

"She’s a danger, Hale. You and I both know if someone doesn’t stop her, Adrian won’t be the only person that dies."

He didn’t respond.

He hadn’t planned to.

But Aubrey wasn’t gonna stop there.

"...Atleast wanna tell me what happened that night in the woods?"

That did it. Hale halted. He turned fully to face her.

"What night?"

"At the camp in Illinois. Carter said he was training with you, yet there was a graze wound on his cheek. Something only a bullet would do."

Hale’s silence stretched like a blade in the dark.

"I know Lila had something to do with it," Aubrey said, stepping closer, trying to pierce through him.

For a moment, a crack appeared in Hale’s otherwise impenetrable expression.

"You’re hiding something, Hale. You need to tell me," she said softly, firmly.

Hale’s expression darkened, shadowed with restraint.

"Adrian is his own man, with his own problems," he said finally.

Aubrey faltered.

"At the end of the day...he’s the one choosing to keep her. It ain’t my place to meddle." he added.

With that, Hale turned and walked off.

"It ain’t yours either." he said over his shoulder, leaving her in the shadows, fists slowly unclenching, frustration and fear twisting in her chest.

The silence that followed was almost complete— broken only by the faint scuff of boots over broken tile.

Then, from somewhere deeper in the store, the first sharp, unnatural scream ripped through the air.

Violence had found them.

I followed Lila down the aisle, boots soft on broken tile. The mannequins loomed, shadows twisting across their frozen forms. My fingers tightened on the gun, pulse quickening. Something about the stillness didn’t sit right...

"Would this dress look good on me, Adrian?"

Lila’s fingers brushed against a black dress on a mannequin, her eyes gleaming in the dim, flickering light of the store.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

There was no harm in playing along.

"...Sure it would, Lila."

Her face lit up.

"Awwwwh! You really mean that?? You’re so good to me, my love!"

I allowed a faint smile. Despite everything, seeing her like this—twirling the dress in her hands, pressed to her chest—felt almost normal. Almost...safe.

For a moment, nostalgia hit me. Mall dates, hot topic clothes, fitting rooms, the silly debates over color and style... it felt like years.

Then reality hit like ice.

The gun in my hand reminded me why we were here. Why we had to clear this place.

I scanned the mannequins as I walked past, shadows twisting along their frozen forms.

They looked like humans— frozen in time.

Like my own life had been, suspended by fear and circumstance.

A tight knot formed in my chest. I swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the pistol grip, scanning the mannequins. My heart hammered. So many things I’d wanted to do... and probably never would.

The world had decided to collapse just as my life was supposed to start.

I never saw it move... not with my own eyes.

Not until it was too late.

A guttural scream ripped through the quiet.

I barely had time to register it before a figure lunged at me— a bloodied box cutter swinging with terrifying precision.

I stumbled back, nearly losing my balance, heart hammering.

Yet, I never hesitated to raise my gun.

Click. Click. My fingers fumbled with the trigger.

I froze.

...Wait.

What the fuck?

The woman swung again—too close, too fast.

We crashed to the floor. She landed on top of me, her weight crushing my chest. My hands shot up instinctively, grabbing her wrists as a shaky, high-pitched laugh escaped her.

Her eyes— bloodshot, veins spiderwebbing across the whites— locked onto mine.

A hallmark of fear. A reflection of madness. Something I knew all too well.

"GIMME GIMME GI—"

The bullet tore through her skull.

She collapsed, dead, on top of me.

Blood spattered across my face. My chest heaved.

I stole a glance at Lila. She froze, wide-eyed, the dress in her hands forgotten.

A gun in her hand.

Then my gaze snapped to the ceiling.

My mind raced.

I could’ve sworn I loaded the chamber.

I did load it... didn’t I?

I couldn’t shake the daze, even as Lila yanked the body off me, her movements quick but careful.

Her arms wrapped around me, warm and gentle, pulling me close.

"You’re not hurt anywhere, are you... sweetie?"

I slowly hugged back, the adrenaline and fear still thrumming in my chest, every heartbeat a drum in my ears.

She pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, her hand lingering against my cheek.

"Next time... you stay behind me, alright?"

I blinked, trying to focus. The words sank in, but my mouth wouldn’t move. I couldn’t answer.

The haze finally started to lift, just enough for me to notice the tension at the doorway.

Aubrey, Hale, and the others were already at the entrance, bodies taut, eyes darting. Panic painted their faces.

Aubrey’s gaze snapped to Lila and me, sharp, accusing.

Lila turned slowly to meet it.

Cold. Calculated. A stare that could freeze steel.

Even Aubrey faltered for a heartbeat.

My chest tightened, the warmth from Lila’s hug clashing with the icy tension radiating from her eyes. I realized, suddenly, that we were all on edge—and the calm in Lila’s demeanor was as dangerous as the attack had been seconds ago.

And somehow... I trusted her anyway.