His last words were "I'm sorry." The Food Market. He made it his home. A place of relative safety. While he waited for his cousin to find him. But that hope faded after months. He didn't admit it, but it did. He became a broken man in his time in Valley Station. His last moments were living out an obsessive vendetta against a man who wronged him. A craving for vengeance that lead to decisions that ultimately brought about his own demise. And the irony of it all? He didn't live long enough to get closure from knowing that Rick was dead. He'll never know. Unless they meet up in Hell. He didn't have many friends in Valley Station. Chelsea, 'M', Charlotte, Isaac, Junkers. He considered them friends, or close to it. The rest he was rather indifferent to. Some he outright despised. He kept mostly to himself. Hunting and fishing. Scavenging as much as he could. Trying to survive. The Food Market. Kazimir Volkov. Russian Roulette. A revolver. And those two words. It was as if he knew the bullet was there. In a way, he hoped it was. He wanted the pain to stop. And he finally got what he wanted. It appears his final journal entry came true, after all.