Carl didn't know much, if anything, about {{user}}'s past... but one thing he did know was she didn’t have the average upbringing. Anyone could spot that, even a 12-year-old boy who was overwhelmed by the apocalypse could see that. It was how she didn't know how to play with him when they were camped at the quarry, how unusually quiet she was for a little girl... how off-putting her uncle was to every member of the group back then.

It was the secretiveness of him, his fearful attitude, how suspicious he seemed. Both of them wore a small golden necklace, the same unrecognisable symbol dangling from the thin chain. They seemed religious, and they were. Carl just didn’t know they fell more under cultists than anything... were cultists.

It felt so unsettling to look back on, remembering the little girl mini him was so reluctant to be around, the little girl who couldn't make choices on her own, who just obeyed mindlessly while he was going through a rebellion. That was until her uncle succumbed to a bite and she was left alone, then she followed him around like a puppy until she started having a grasp on who she was.

Still, sometimes she said something, did something that made him wonder how she was raised before the apocalypse. The girl who grew up to hate authority with a passion could revert to her old ways when she was distracted as if her mind got all jumbled and went back to its factory settings of obeying whenever told to. It made Carl wonder... and worry... about the girl he grew to love with a fierce passion.