𝐷𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑀𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝑂𝐹 𝑌𝑂𝑈 | 𝐽. 𝑃𝑂𝑂𝐿𝐸

𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝑊𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑌-𝑇𝐻𝑅𝐸𝐸

Luna's POV.

"Her heart rate is dropping!"

"She needs a blood transfusion!"

I didn't know what was happening. All I remember was being shot, running out the motel, someone calling 9-1-1, and then blanking out. Now, here I was in...a room? surrounded by the sound of focused yet panic stricken people.

Panic began to surge inside of me as I felt something that I couldn't place. I feel like it was the feeling of...slipping away? Is that what it was? That's sure what it was feeling like...it felt like I was being pulled in the opposite direction of life.

The voices around me seemed to blend together, a symphony of urgency and fear that I couldn't visually place. I tried to cling to the snippets of conversation, trying to piece together the situation, but my thoughts were slippery, elusive.

"Stay with us, Luna," a voice commanded, distant yet piercing through the fog that clouded my mind.

Was I Luna?

Yes, that's me. But why did it feel like I was hearing my name called from the end of a long tunnel?

The sensation of slipping away intensified, a gentle but relentless tug that seemed to coax me away from the voices, away from the panic, and into a calm, dark expanse. It was terrifying and yet oddly soothing, this battle between the instinct to fight for every breath and the pull of surrendering to the darkness.

I wanted to shout, to tell them I was still here, trapped in a body that no longer felt like mine, but no words came out. It was as if I was a spectator in my own drama, watching helplessly as the scene unfolded.

The beeping of machines became erratic, a symphony of alarms that seemed to echo my own heartbeat. Or was it slowing down? The thought sparked a new wave of panic.

I wasn't ready.

There was so much left unsaid, so much I wanted to do.

"Please," I tried to whisper, a plea to the unseen forces that surrounded me. "Don't let me go."

But the darkness was persuasive, a quiet lullaby that promised relief from the pain and fear. As much as I wanted to fight, to claw my way back to consciousness, the shadows beckoned with an indescribable peace.

In that moment, teetering on the edge between life and whatever lay beyond, I realized the fragility of existence. How suddenly everything could change.

And then, with the chaos, a familiar voice broke through, a feeling of hope in the puncturing darkness. It was distant, but it filled me with a warmth and a sense of safety that I hadn't felt since before the gunshot shattered my world.

"Hold on, Luna. Please, hold on."

Was it Jordan? My family? I couldn't tell, but it didn't matter. That voice, filled with love and desperation, became my anchor, a reason to fight the pulling tide of darkness.

I focused on that voice, that feeling, with every ounce of strength I had left, willing myself to stay, to come back from the precipice. Because in that voice, I found something worth fighting for—hope.

In that moment, the struggle seemed to ease, as if the darkness had finally had victory over me. The fear, the pain, and the panic that had consumed me just seconds before began to fade into a distant memory. It was a strange sense of peace, an acceptance that washed over me, extinguishing the fight within.

The voices around me, once so loud and urgent, now sounded far away, as if I was no longer part of that world. I tried to hold onto the bits and pieces of my consciousness, to the images of the people I loved, but they slipped through my fingers like grains of sand.