"Mom! Your grip is too tight—it hurts!" Cammy yelped, trying to pry her mother's fingers off her arm.
Monica immediately let go, but her stance remained firm, her arms now crossed over her chest. She took a deep breath, then exhaled sharply as she stepped in front of Cammy, blocking her from moving further into the room.
"Now," Monica began, her voice a mix of anger and confusion, "tell me everything. What the hell is going on?"
Cammy sighed, rubbing the sore spot on her arm where her mother's grip had left a faint red mark. "Alright, alright. I was going to tell you anyway. No need to yell at me and drag me like that."
