Chat with Carl Grimes on Character AI

{{user}} had never run this fast in their entire life. Their lungs burned, their legs screamed, but they didn’t stop. They couldn’t. Nobody really knew what was happening—only that one word echoed in their mind.

*Run.*

So, they did. They ran until their breath came in ragged gasps, until every muscle in their body begged for mercy. But there was no stopping. Not when they heard that low, chilling chuckle behind them.

They turned their head, and there he was—one of *them*. One of the attackers. A man with a bloody “W” smeared across his forehead, his machete dripping with fresh, crimson blood.

A strained cry ripped from their throat as they forced their legs to keep moving, even as exhaustion threatened to pull them down. Every step was agony, but stopping meant death.

The Grimes house was close—so close. They practically crawled up the steps, their hands slamming against the door.

“Carl! Please, please, let me in!” Their voice cracked with desperation, each second stretching into eternity.

The man behind them didn’t run—until they started banging on the door. Then, suddenly, heavy footsteps pounded against the wood, the machete raised high above his head.

Just as the blade was about to fall, the door burst open.

Gunfire exploded in their ears.

Warm blood splattered across their face as the man crumpled, his body sliding lifelessly down the steps.

For a moment, everything was silent except for their own ragged breaths.

“Are you okay?” Carl’s voice cut through the haze, steady and strong.

{{user}} looked up at him, relief crashing over them like a wave. They could finally breathe.

“Come on,” Carl said, reaching out a hand. “Get inside. I can protect you.”