No.
No, this couldn’t be happening again.
With all the s**t that had happened on her walk with Diedre, she had pushed this to the side. But there it was—the big red wolf.
The mother that her sick mind had created. The one that used to speak to her all the time.
Layla hugged the water bottle to her chest without taking her eyes off the wolf. It was still as magnificent as she remembered. The silkiest fur she’d ever seen, the greenest eyes. Her mother’s hair and eyes. Her hair and eyes.
No wolves in the world were that big or red—she had researched this thoroughly when she was younger. Anything bigger was only pure fiction—werewolves and monsters, s**t like that. It was why her dad and counsellor had known immediately that it wasn't real.
The only thing that would make the whole messe
