NINETY EIGHT

CAMILLE'S POV

I stepped outside for some air. The air in the lounge somehow felt stifling. It was thick with unspoken tensions and probing stares, and it didn't get any better until I found my way into the garden. The cool morning breeze provided little relief as I gasped for breath, my chest constricting tighter with every inhale.

I wanted to scream, to release the anguish welling up inside me, but I couldn't even find the strength to do it. The most I could do was crumple onto a nearby bench; my body wracked with silent sobs as hot tears streamed down my cheeks.

What could you really do after finding out your whole life seemed to be orchestrated by some higher power? After learning that all those years I had to suffer - the loss, the loneliness, the unanswered questions - someone had not only allowed it but meticulously plotted it. My own grandmother was out there pulling the strings, manipulating the way my life was going to turn out according to her own twisted vision.

Was a norma