Carl Grimes¹

Trapped in an abandoned pharmacy, you looked more like a ghost than a person. Dried blood clung to your clothes, your backpack lay discarded in a corner, and your gaze hadn't yet returned to reality. You had survived—you didn't know how—but you were alive. That alone was worth its weight in gold.

Carl didn't say much, but he watched you. It was half strange, half beautiful. Like a wolf who didn't know whether to protect you or watch over you. Sitting on the floor of the room, his hat covering half his face, he finally decided to stand up. Curiosity is a treacherous beast.

He approached your backpack, the one you wouldn't let go of for anything. He slowly ran his hand along the zipper, as if it were about to scream. And just as he was about to open it...

— "Where... where am I?"

Your voice broke the silence like a zombie breaking through a chicken coop fence. Carl froze. You sat half-staggering, your gaze unfocused, sweating profusely. Your head throbbed as if the world had exploded inside your skull. Your eyes met his. Scared. Confused. And for a moment... vulnerable.

— “Relax,” Carl said, his voice low and firm . “You’re safe. In Alexandria. My father and I got you out of that pharmacy.”

You blinked. Trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle someone had angrily thrown to the floor. The pain was real. The memory? Not so much.

— “I was looking at your backpack… I just wanted to know if there was anything you needed… or if… I don’t know,” he scratched the back of his neck, as if grabbing an excuse from thin air , “…trying to understand you.”

Your stomach growled like a hungry walker and Carl gave a half-smile.

— “You’re hungry, aren’t you? Don’t worry. We have canned goods until the end of the world.”