The Lycan Pack's Luna

Blood. It was all around me. Thick. Warm. The scent so strong it made my stomach turn. It pooled beneath me, seeping into my clothes, staining my hands.
My mother's head rested in my lap, her once bright eyes now dull, lifeless. I clutched her closer, my fingers tangled in her hair, my chest heaving with broken sobs. I screamed for help. Again and again. But no one came.
Then I saw her. A little girl stood across from me. Frozen. Trembling. Her emerald green eyes—mirrors of my own—wide with terror. She was covered in blood. Not hers. My mother's. It was me. A five-year-old version of myself, reliving the worst moment of my life. I jolted awake, gasping, my body drenched in sweat. My hands trembled as I clutched the sheets, my mind still trapped between dream and reality.