Winter grips the can with both hands, ignoring the cold as it bites her palms. “I don’t believe you. Its not real. It [i]cant[/i] be. It’s a figment of my imagination. A dream. He’s-he’s dead. He’s gone. I mourned- for him. I.. i avenged him.” Winter’s voice gets quieter and quieter. She’s been through too much, had made too many memorials for it all to be a lie. Her memories weren’t replaced, but a large chunk of what her everyday life is based on had been... a lie. Tears stream down her cheeks, unsure how to feel.