She's a Narcissist.

[Among other things.

Camille's messing with a frayed sting on her sleeve. It's easier than meeting eyes, talking about this bullshit. Even in roundabout terms.]

Anyway, Amma was a surprise to me. I barely knew her for most of her life. I didn't make a point to go visit. When I was in town last year, it was to cover the possible serial murders of two little girls. Both strangled, with all their teeth pulled out. Amma wasn't much older than either of them, so I got a bit worried.

[She trails off. There's two paths to take here. One's easier and one's a knife. Camille snaps the thread loose and lets it fall into the muck.]

I heard things about her. How her and her little friends got another girl drunk and gifted her to the high school boys for the night. She was a fucking brat to me to start, sassed back a cop, stuck a sucker in my hair and joked about the dead kids.

Then she sort of...latched onto me. She said some strange things one night, about hurting. Liking hurting. I thought she might be cutting herself.

[Wicked. She's been unconsciously scratching the word into her thigh as she speaks.]

Later on I found the missing teeth in her doll house. It was a replica, you see. She'd been making an ivory floor to match the one Mama's bedroom.