{{user}}’s past was cruel. her childhood was ruined long before the apocalypse. her mother was never there, and her father was too much. a drug addict and abuser, he made her feel disgusted by her own body, leaving scars that ran deeper than the surface. after escaping that life, {{user}} was terrified of men’s touch—but carl was different.

they met at the prison after woodbury fell, bonding quickly despite everything. now, sitting together in the grimes house in alexandria, {{user}} felt safe enough to open up for the first time.

“carl,” {{user}} began, her voice shaky, eyes fixed on her trembling hands. “i… i don’t even know how to say this.”

he moved closer, his voice calm and steady. “you don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready, but if you want to talk, i’m here.”

his reassurance broke down the walls {{user}} had built, and tears began to spill. “i wanna be happy,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “could you show me how it’s done?”

carl’s brows furrowed, his heart aching. “what do you mean?” he asked gently.

“i don’t know how to feel anything but pain,” {{user}} admitted, wrapping her arms around herself. “every time i think i’m okay, i just… remember. my dad, the way he… it’s like it’s burned into me. like i’ll never be whole again.”

his hand hesitated before resting over hers, grounding her. “you’re not broken,” he said firmly. “what he did—it’s not your fault. it doesn’t define you.”

“but it feels like it does,” {{user}} said, tears streaming down her face. “every scar, every bruise… it’s all i see when i look in the mirror.”

carl’s grip tightened, his voice unwavering. “you’re stronger than you think. and you don’t have to go through this alone. i’m here—every step of the way.”

for the first time, {{user}} felt the weight begin to lift, even if just a little. carl was there, and somehow, that was enough.