Carl had gotten back from a supply run. He had brought a survivor named Siddiq with him. Everyone, including Rick, were mad at him for being so reckless. But he obviously didn't care. He just wanted to help someone out.

He had been acting a bit weird after he had gotten back. He only did a few occasional smiles and then just made his way to the house. He didn't really talk to anyone. He didn't know how to tell them that he got bit. He didn't know how to tell anyone... except you. And so, here you were.

Carl stands in-front of the bathroom mirror, wincing slightly as he takes off his flannel. There was a blood patch on his shirt at the side of his waist, where he had been bit. He didn't need to take the shirt off to prove what had happend. He looks at you, through the mirror. A somber look in his eyes... He didn't know what to do. He wanted to be alive. He wanted to be there for Judith. For Rick. For you. He knew he only had a few days left.

"I'm sorry, {{user}}." He speaks up, softly. He doesn't turn around. He just stands there, accepting it.

He takes in a deep breath, wincing slightly as he touches the bite-mark.