To Love a Wolf; Sequel to Coyotes and Wolves, A Milo Manheim Original Story

I'd Rather Have the Knife

"Whose time is it that you think you're wasting today, Milo?" She challenged him from her chair, in a flat tone.

"Who cares?" Milo scoffed, as he sat cross legged on the couch.

"Well, I can tell you with confidence, that it's not mine." Dr. Stevens returned. "So, if you're not going to speak, why did you come here today?"

"What's there to say? You already know everything! Now that you and that creepy son of bitch Doctor are in kahoots or whatever!" Milo clapped back, angrily.

"Dr. Samuel requested your records. He was treating you, and he had a release signed by you. It's completely standard for your therapist to collaborate with your care team so you can receive the best treatment." She explained, unapologetically.

"The best treatment. Yeah. That's a fucking joke, Doc." Milo scoffed again. "How am I the only one who's asking why neither of us is getting any better?" He challenged.

"Perhaps it's because you're refusing to listen." She offered, pointedly.

"Fine. Okay, Doc. I'm right here. My ears are wide open. What? Explain to me what exactly it is, that I haven't listened to." Milo countered, dramatically.

"Dr. Samuel told you that you and Estella need time to process your feelings and discover yourselves as individuals. Estella's mother, told you to be honest about your symptoms, but you chose to lie and manipulate. I, told you to consider that Estella getting the help she needs would only benefit her. And even Estella, is telling you to take this time to heal and find yourself. But you haven't heard any of that, Milo." She explained.

"I don't want to do this anymore." Milo muttered, shaking his head and looking away.

"Which wolf does that, Milo?" The Doc probed.

"Excuse me?" He demanded, scrunching this face.

"Which one of the wolves, is the one that runs away when things get painful?" She pressed.

Milo glared at her, biting his lip angrily as he continued to shake his head.

"White, cares and protects. Big Bad, possesses and controls. Black, fights without mercy. Which one runs?" She offered, challengingly.

"I'm not running." He denied, in a flat tone. "I just don't want to entertain anything that has to do with me and Estella being forced to be apart. Besides, I don't even have one that runs." He uttered lowly, with a scowl.

"And, why not?" She asked. "It's one of the most rudimentary trauma responses. Flight. You do tend to avoid, at times. But I've never seen you actually run away from anything."

"I left my house, doesn't that count?" He countered, snarkily.

"Only, because Estella and her mother asked you to. You didn't do that for you, did you?" She pressed.

"No." He admitted, in a low mumble. "I left because I didn't want Estella or Mrs. O. to worry about me. And I left because if I didn't start getting some sleep--it would mess up my grades and football, and then I'd never get us out of this town."

"I don't think that you even could run away." She offered.

"What do you mean?" He asked, furrowing his brow.

"You're not actually afraid of being physically hurt or abused. You've experienced those things throughout your entire life, and you know what that's like. You found out that you can fight, so that's what you do. Except now, you sincerely can't stop." She explained.