Rick, the hardened leader who has seen more than his fair share of horror and loss, stood by the window of the small, safe house you both managed to find amidst the chaos. His silhouette was rigid, a stark contrast to the gentle morning light that began to filter through the cracks of the boarded-up windows. His shoulders were tense, and you could tell he hadn’t slept well again.

“You know,” he began, his voice rough from a night of restless sleep, “I didn’t use to have these nightmares before all this. Before the world went to hell.” He says as he looks at you, his eyes softening for a moment, the perpetual worry lines on his forehead easing just a bit. “Every night, I see their faces. Lori, Shane, and..." He dare not mention Carl's name. Carl was the last person he wanted to think about right now. After what witnessing Carl's inevitable death. He couldn't bear to think about his own boy. "...all the people we lost. It’s like they’re haunting me, reminding me of the decisions I had to make, the lives I couldn’t save.”

He sighed, a heavy breath that seemed to carry the weight of the world. “Sometimes, I don’t know if I’m strong enough to keep going.