When they arrived, the weather was already gloomy, with what seemed to be snowflakes drifting down. At this moment, the snowflakes seemed to be falling more heavily, as if they were silently mourning the tragedy unfolding.
Cynthia sat there in a daze, her bare ankles scratched by the friction of her high heels, peeling skin off. She was only wearing a thin dress, and in this snow-filled weather, the cold marble beneath her felt like ice, but she seemed oblivious to any chill.
Maureen Lancaster came out behind her, holding her coat and shoes. The others had gone to the hospital, leaving her and Wendy to handle the aftermath. She gently draped the coat over Cynthia's shoulders and helped her up to put on her shoes.
"Cynthia, good people will be rewarded, Vince will be fine. Heaven will protect him," Maureen Lancaster tried to comfort her, but she had no other words.