Coyotes and Wolves, Milo Manheim Original Story

I Can't Breathe

POV: Estella

"I'm fine!" I shouted for the third time at the nurse, who was obviously suffering from some kind of auditory processing disorder.

"Estella!" She chided, losing her patience with me. "We can't discharge you until we know that you're not hurt, and we need to complete a rape kit."

"I already told the cops that he didn't get that far! I'm refusing." I argued, angrily.

"If you refuse--it could impede any case you have against him. I just want you to understand that, before you make a decision." The nurse countered.

"Mija...She's right. They could twist it and argue that you refused the test because you were hiding something." Mom entreated.

I scoffed.
"I just want to see if Milo's okay." I started to tear up again, my voice breaking.

"Your dad just text me." She interjected, as she'd looked at her phone for the first time. "Ay dios mio! Milo's awake. But they're waiting to hear from the nurse and the doctor."

I started to cry and openly sob, raising my hands to my mouth. My breathing increasing with my shock and relief, and then I oddly started to chuckle.
"Milo..." I gasped. "Oh my God! Thank God!" I stammered as the tears flowed and my laugher continued.

My mom tried to hide it. Apparently she was just as scared as I was, but she also sighed in relief and looked lighter with the news.

"You can do the test." I conceded reluctantly, to the nurse. And she nodded, in understanding.

"You're doing the right thing, mija." Mom expressed, hugging me.

"But the second it's over, I'm going straight to Milo."
I insisted, stubbornly.

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POV: Milo

You know? Considering that I almost just died, it's kind of messed up how long they make you wait for results. I couldn't move my leg, the anesthetic hadn't worn off from when they'd performed some kind of surgery. God forbid, anyone come in and even tell me what they did! They're probably going to dope me up once it wears off, but I need to be clear headed when I see Estella.

Where the hell is she? I want to see her, now! I know they said she's fine, but what if she's not? What if they're just saying that to keep me from freaking out and fucking up my stitches and bleeding out. They won't even let me have my phone yet. They said they had to gather my belongings. Some kind of bullshit about it being "evidence".

"Mr. O.? I'm sorry, but I can't sit here anymore! I need to know that she's okay. I know you said she was, and I'm sorry, but I can't relax until I see it for myself." I blurted out, impatiently rummaging around my tubes to see what I could pull out.

Mr. O. rushed over to my bedside and put his hands on my arms, firmly.

"Stop! Ay dios mio! What are you going to do, roll down the hallway? You can't even walk, Milo! Damn, you're worse than she is." He exclaimed, in exasperation. "Between the both of you, I can't figure out who's the most hard headed and stubborn!"

"He is, Dad. Trust me." Quipped a voice in the doorway.

My beautiful girl was finally here. She was fine, just like they'd said. And her mother came in behind her, with a tear in her eye.

"Princess." I gasped, relief flooding over my entire body. I beckoned her with my arms, to hurry over to me. "Come here." I voiced, softly.

She padded quickly into my arms and rested her head on my chest. My tubes got yanked a bit, but I didn't give a damn.