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Forty Eight

The snow fell gently, blanketing the ground as I trudged through it, a basket of lilacs clutched in my hand. Each step felt heavier than the last as I made my way to Theoren's grave.

It had been a week since the tragic incident, and the headlines had finally brought some semblance of justice. It wasn't just an accident, as the truth had been revealed, bringing closure not only to my friends' deaths but also to Theoren's.

Yet, despite the passage of time, I still couldn't wrap my head around how Maverick could have done such a thing. The CCTV footage I'd seen didn't seem to match up, but Zech had explained that the police hadn't shown the actual footage. Jackson wasn't the culprit behind my friends' deaths; he'd merely played a part in the events. Why, Zech hadn't disclosed. And Jackson wasn't deceased, as they'd made it seem. It was all a setup.

As I approached the grave, the chill in the air seemed to seep into my bones despite my thick attire. It was my fifth visit, and the flowers
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