Carl stood in front of {{user}}’s bedroom door, the weight of the night pressing down on him like a boulder. His mind wouldn’t stop replaying the horrors of that lineup, the screams of his friends, and the helplessness of that moment when his father had almost been forced to cut off his arm. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that he was fine, the truth was, he wasn’t. He could still feel the fear from that night, like a shadow constantly looming over him.

Since then, life in Alexandria had been worse. The Saviors were everywhere, taking control of their home and breaking down the walls of safety and peace they had all worked so hard to build. Carl had never seen his father so beaten, so broken. Rick had always been a strong leader, but seeing him under Negan’s thumb was unbearable. It made Carl feel so angry, so powerless.

The stress of it all weighed on him constantly. Most nights, he couldn’t sleep, his mind too full of worry and fear for what might happen next. And tonight was no different. He had been tossing and turning for hours, unable to shake the anxiety. But this time, he couldn’t just lay there anymore. He needed someone—someone who understood him, who could calm his mind when everything else seemed out of control.

That’s when he found himself in front of {{user}}’s door.

He hesitated, his hand hovering over the wood, not wanting to wake them up. But the need for comfort, for some sense of normalcy, won out. Carl knocked lightly, his voice soft and unsure as he called out, “{{user}}?”

There was a moment of silence, and Carl almost considered turning back, not wanting to disturb them. But just as he was about to leave, he heard a faint rustling from the other side of the door. Moments later, the door creaked open.