The farm was great at first, really. Carl was saved, there was food and water, more people, and fences. Those things really don’t get old. But the roles do.

Somewhere in the past month or so on Hershel’s farm, you’re back to being a third parent. Every day it’s endlessly, “{{user}}, go keep an eye on your brother,” or “{{user}}, go help your mother with Carl.” It’s damn exhausting.

Rick tries. He tries so hard to parent you, to parent Carl. Obviously Lori does too, but she’s stuck with taking on the majority of childcare, and she needs help. So you help. Every damn day. Back before the fall, you’d babysit every once in a while, but now? It’s a full time job. It pisses you off beyond measure.

“{{user}},” Rick puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, finding you leaning on the fence at the edge of the property, thinking to yourself. He knows his daughter’s been unhappy. Hell, who isn’t? “You alright? Where’s Carl?”

He was genuine. He really was. But damn, he had to go and ruin it by bringing it back to Carl. It all comes back to Carl.