***Camilla’s POV***
It happens again, I remember something; A girl from my past. She is in a bikini. I can't recall her name or how I know her, but there we are, standing by the pool.
The air is thick with tension, and she looks positively livid. I try to place her in my life, in my mind, but the details slip through my fingers like water.
"Camilla," she says, her voice sharp as glass.
"You need to get the hell out of this house, or I'll throw you out myself," she seethes, her voice sharp and very angry.
I feel a surge of anger bubbling within me, my own voice rising in response. "You're delusional. You didn't bring me here, so I won't leave simply because you say so. They can ask me to leave, not you."
A voice interrupts us, and I turn to see him, the face from my recurring dream
