"So tell me, Saintess… why are you so clung to a dead piece of trash?"
"He was not trash!"
Her voice cracked like a whip, sharp and sudden.
Oliver flinched, instinctively taking a half-step back. The sheer volume coming from the small, trembling girl in front of him was startling.
"Okay, okay," he muttered, raising his hands in surrender. "I get it. Poor choice of words."
But Amy wasn't listening. The dam had broken.
"He was better than everyone," she said, her voice shaking with raw emotion. "He was a better human than anyone I have ever met."
She stepped closer, her eyes burning into his mask.
"He never bothered anyone. He never bullied anyone. He never became a nuisance to a single soul. Whenever he got the chance, he helped others without even expecting anything in return."
Tears streamed down her face now, but she didn't wipe them away.
"He was just… quiet. He wasn't outgoing like the others. He kept everything to himself. But that doesn't mean he was trash!"
