Surviving the Apocalypse With My Yandere Ex-Girlfriend-Chapter 77: Anomaly

The cold was the first thing I registered.

Not the pain—there was plenty of that—but the cold. It seeped into my bones, sharpened by the chains cinched tight around my wrists and ankles, metal biting into torn skin every time I so much as breathed wrong. I was half-naked, stripped down to whatever made me easiest to hurt, shivering in a room that felt too big and too small all at once.

They hadn’t bothered to restrain me first.

That part came after.

Cuts burned along my ribs. Bruises throbbed deep and purple under my skin. Someone had taken their time before deciding I was done moving on my own.

I lifted my head an inch.

The room swam into focus—wide concrete walls, stained dark in places where blood hadn’t been scrubbed clean. Tables lined with tools I didn’t recognize. Hooks. Gears. Devices built with one purpose and refined through repetition. Some of them were still wet.

The air smelled like iron and old smoke.

My stomach twisted.

Lila.

Why the hell did she come with me?

The thought clawed at me harder than the chains. They’d separated us. Of course they had. She was unpredictable, dangerous in ways even I didn’t fully understand. They wouldn’t know what to do with her yet. She was probably locked in another room, bound, watched, analyzed like a bomb someone was afraid to touch.

She couldn’t protect me here.

And whatever her plan was—if she even had one—it was still a mystery to me.

Everything felt truly hopeless.

I shivered as the metal door creaked open.

Footsteps.

Unhurried. Heavy.

A man stepped inside, cigarette dangling lazily from his mouth, ember glowing as he inhaled. Guard, maybe. Or something worse pretending to be one. I kept my head down, letting my hair fall into my face, shoulders slumped, breathing uneven.

He circled me slowly, boots scraping against the floor. I could feel his eyes on me—cold, curious, hungry. He stopped in front of me and took a long drag, smoke curling down toward my bare skin.

"So," he said at last, voice rough with smoke and satisfaction, "this is Adrian Carter."

I didn’t look up.

"The one from Hyde Park," he continued. "Warehouse kid. Used the infected like attack dogs." A chuckle. "You’re a clever bastard, you know that?"

He crouched, trying to catch my face.

"But playtime’s over."

My shoulders trembled.

"You killed a lot of my friends that night," he went on calmly. "Good men." Another drag. "Now I get to watch you pay for it. Slowly."

Tears slid down my cheeks and dropped into my lap.

"...I’m sorry," I whispered. My throat burned. "I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I’m sorry..."

He paused.

I felt his gaze sharpen.

For a moment, I thought I’d gone too far. But then he smiled.

"Huh," he muttered. "Funny. From the stories, I thought you’d be colder. Surgical." He straightened slightly.

"Guess you really are just a kid after all."

He scoffed.

"Vivian’s gonna have a lot of fun with you."

He turned away, smoke trailing behind him as he faced the wall, already bored. Already done with me.

I waited.

Counted his breaths.

Then, softly—

"...Can I please get a hit?"

He turned, brow furrowing.

"I’m just... really hungry," I said, voice shaking, eyes still downcast.

"...I haven’t eaten. Please, sir. Maybe the cigarette will help."

He stared at me for a second.

Then he smiled.

"Yeah?" he said, stepping closer. "Sure thing, kid."

He knelt and reached forward, bringing the cigarette toward my mouth.

That was when I lunged.

My jaw clamped down hard—harder than I ever had before.

Bone cracked.

He screamed.

The sound was raw, animal, tearing through the room as I ripped back, spitting two severed fingers onto the floor, blood spraying across my chest. He collapsed instantly, clutching his hand, howling as he rolled in his own mess.

The door burst open.

A woman rushed in, gun raised—

Too late.

I spat again, teeth slick with blood, my expression cold and steady as I lifted my head for the first time.

The crying man writhed at my feet.

The barrel pressed to my temple, cold and absolute.

I barely reacted.

"You little bitch," she snarled, her grip shaking with fury. "I’ll fucking murder you."

The man on the floor wailed like a dying animal, clutching his ruined hand, sobbing about his missing fingers. The sound grated. The tears on my face were already dry. The blood on my lips wasn’t.

"Enough."

The word didn’t cut through the room.

It crushed it.

The woman froze.

"Enough, you fucking barbarians."

Her gun eased away from my head as she turned. The pressure vanished, but I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

"He was— I was just—" she stammered.

"This," the voice continued, smooth and sharp all at once, "is no way to treat our guests."

Vivian stepped into view.

She moved like she owned the air itself, boots echoing softly against concrete as she approached. The woman shrank back instinctively.

"You two," Vivian said, flicking her fingers toward the door. "Out. Now."

They didn’t hesitate.

The injured man scrambled upright, still sobbing, still clutching his hand like it might reattach itself if he begged hard enough. Vivian and I watched him stagger out. The door slammed shut behind them.

Silence.

Vivian jabbed a thumb toward the door, grin slow and wicked.

"Now that?" she said. "Was hot as fuck."

I didn’t respond.

She crouched in front of me, lowering herself until we were eye level. Her gaze flicked briefly to the blood at my mouth, the chains, the tremor still running through my muscles.

"And believe me," she said softly, "I watched everything."

She leaned in a little closer.

"First, you make people feel bad for you. Small. Harmless." Her voice was almost admiring. "Then, once there’s blood in the water..."

She smiled.

"You strike. You use their weaknesses. Their arrogance. Their need to feel powerful."

I lifted my head slowly. Blood dripped from my lip onto the floor. My eyes stayed closed.

"That’s the kind of person you are," she murmured. "Isn’t it?"

Something inside me snapped.

"...That’s," I said quietly, my voice steady despite the chains, "what you’d call a superpower."

She smiled at that.

The silence stretched.

Thick.

Then—

"You’re going to die," I continued calmly. "Very, very soon."

Vivian paused.

Really looked at me.

"It could be by my hand," I went on. "Could be Lila’s. Could be my people storming this place any second now." My jaw tightened. "That would be the best outcome for you."

A beat.

"But regardless," I said, opening my eyes at last, "you made a mistake bringing her here."

Her smile faltered—just a fraction.

"And you’re going to realize that pretty soon."

She laughed—harder now.

A full, unrestrained laugh that echoed off the concrete walls until it felt like the room itself was mocking me.

I frowned as she doubled slightly, one hand pressed to her stomach, the other wiping at the corner of her eye like she’d genuinely amused herself.

"Oh, wow," she breathed. "You really are a catch, aren’t you?"

She straightened, smile sliding back into place—slow, sultry, poisonous.

"That confidence," she continued, circling me lazily, fingers brushing the chain at my shoulder. "The threats. The loyalty. God, it’s almost romantic."

I didn’t look at her.

"But yeah," she went on lightly, "no. I don’t think that mutt of yours is going to be a problem for me."

She stopped behind me.

Not touching—just close enough that I could feel her breath ghost against my ear.

"Not anymore."

My jaw tightened.

"She came willingly," Vivian said. "That already tells me everything I need to know about her." A soft hum. "People like her don’t protect. They attach. And attachments?"

She leaned down, voice dropping.

"They rot."

I pulled against the chains, metal biting into my wrists.

"See, right now she’s hooked on ecstasy. Flooded. Blissed out. Cloud thirteen." She laughed. "Probably feels amazing."

My fists clenched, chains rattling softly.

"What? I said I’d treat my guests nice— so I am."

A pause.

"She’ll have people coming in soon," Vivian continued, almost conversational. "Nice ones. Gentle ones. They’ll ask her questions. Encourage her to open up." Her eyes gleamed. "Her deepest thoughts. Her darkest feelings."

She tilted her head.

"What she really thinks of you."

My chest twisted painfully.

"But that’s just one way," she added. "One of many. I plan to break you slowly."

I yanked against the chains, rage flaring hot and sharp.

"Why?" I snapped. "Why go through all this trouble just to capture me?"

Vivian blinked.

Then laughed softly.

"Oh," she said, straightening. "That double‑crossing commander didn’t tell you?"

Vivian stopped smiling.

The room seemed to shrink with it.

"Have you ever felt truly cornered?" she asked quietly. "Like your body’s ready to give up before your mind does?"

I didn’t answer.

She snapped her fingers.

"And then," she said, "your brain just... knows what to do."

Her eyes stayed on mine.

"You don’t panic. You don’t beg. You don’t fall apart," she said. "You switch."

My jaw tightened.

"I’ve been watching you since middle school," she added casually.

My breath caught.

"South side," she went on. "Skinny kid. Too quiet. Those older boys thought they could jump you behind the gym."

Her smile thinned.

"That was your first fracture. The moment your mind split instead of shattered."

My stomach twisted.

"You didn’t fight like a normal kid," she said. "You crippled one. You blinded another. Brutal. Efficient. Even then."

She tapped her temple.

"The Crucible doesn’t care about strength," Vivian said. "Muscle is useless. Courage is unreliable. Loyalty breaks."

She leaned in.

"We care about minds that don’t rupture under impossible pressure."

I pulled at the chains. "So what. You collect trauma cases?"

She didn’t blink.

"They’re putting a mind inside you."

The words landed heavy.

Ugly.

Final.

"Not software," she continued. "That burns out. This thing thinks. Learns. Remembers."

My voice came out slow. "An AI."

She laughed once. "No. It outgrew machines."

She paced.

"It’s a neural lattice. Synthetic cognition designed to run parallel to a human brain. It processes battlefield data, surveillance feeds, emotional states — entire populations reduced to probability."

She stopped in front of me.

"It can’t exist alone."

I swallowed.

"It needs a biological anchor," she said. "A mind that can hold it."

The room tilted.

"We tested animals," Vivian said. "Instant death. Adults lasted minutes. Sometimes hours. Personalities collapsed first. Then seizures. Then nothing."

My fists clenched. "So you moved to kids."

"Young brains bend easier," she said. "But they still broke."

A pause.

"Except you. At least in theory."

Silence pressed in.

"You don’t reject foreign input," she said. "You compartmentalize it. Absorb it. Reorganize around it."

She glanced at the chains.

"That’s why we’re torturing you."

My head snapped up.

"Torture fractures the mind," Vivian said calmly. "Controlled breaks. Clean splits. The more compartments you have, the easier it is for the lattice to settle in."

She smiled faintly.

"We’re stabilizing you."

Rage burned in my chest. "You’re turning me into a fucking host...?"

She shook her head.

"No. An interface."

"A living command core," she continued. "A human who can carry a second consciousness without losing the first."

"And if I fight it?"

Her smile sharpened.

"You won’t," she said. "You never do."

"You’re erasing me," I said.

She shrugged. "I like to think of it as sharing."

She turned for the door.

"If this works," she added, hand on the handle, "you won’t just survive."

She paused.

"You’ll be proof that a human mind can carry something smarter, colder, and more ruthless than itself... and still function."

"And if it doesn’t?" I asked.

She didn’t turn back.

"Then we finally learn," Vivian said,

"how much of you it takes to kill a god we built."

The door shut.

"Believe me, the real fun hasn’t started yet~"

She sung playfully through the muffled door.

I doubt I was even able to process what I had just heard. Not fully.

But sitting here and waiting wasn’t my plan. I needed to find a way out of here.