The Dentist

*Wordcount: 821 words.

The dentist’s office was small, or at least the reception area was. Small, and a sterile white. The receptionist sat behind her desk, tapping away at her keyboard and occasionally casting a disinterested look around the room. The room itself was largely empty, just myself and one other victim. Ahem, patient, I mean. I could give a description of them, but I’m not that interested myself and, oh well, there they go. Called by the receptionist.
I had been waiting longer, and I had an appointment, but I wouldn’t complain. You see, I’m not a big fan of dentists. Shocking, I know.

Dentists and I, well, we’ve just never been on the same page. They are intimately interested in your teeth, and try to take care of them through rather archaic means if you ask me. Metal braces to force your teeth into position, expanders to push your jaw apart and widen your mouth. Scary, crazy, archaic torture devices. And dentists, they’re the torturers.
But, erm, I suppose they aren’t all bad. Probably. I’ve spent some time trying to get over my fear (and mild (to say the least) dislike) of dentists, and I’m sure you can see that I’ve been very successful. I was at the dentist’s office, and that’s a step in the right direction.

I was in for a check-up, nothing too painful I should hope. Of course, it’s the waiting that gets you, isn’t it.
And this waiting was torturous. There was precious little to do: the magazines were boring and years old even if I was interested, whenever I took out my phone the receptionist would cough and tap on a sign hanging off the front of her desk that said “Please refrain from using your phone in the office” with a smiley face underneath (which I found quite irritating), and running away wasn’t really an option (because I’m a big boy now god damn it).
So, with nothing else to do, I waited.

A few minutes later, the receptionist called out my name. Odd, I hadn’t seen the last patient leave. Admittedly, it’s possible that I might have maybe dozed off a little bit and missed it. As much as I wanted to, I decided not to ask the receptionist; I didn’t want to seem paranoid and I didn’t need the embarrassment.
So, I gathered myself together and walked into the dentist’s office.

The dentist greeted me, and invited me to sit. She was wearing the dental mask thing already, but I didn’t mind that much. Straight to business, at least.
Sitting in the chair was only the height of my fear. When she started lowering it and reclining it backwards, I had to keep myself from trembling. One thing that struck me about this room was the potent smell. Disinfectant, and a strong smell of plaque. This would be the place to find those smells, I supposed.
She took out some disinfectant wipes, and wiped my arm.
“W-what’s that for?” I asked.
“A simple anaesthetic. Part of the procedure, don’t worry.”
She stuck the needle in my arm and injected its contents before I realised it. It stung, and I felt myself slipping into a panic. This wasn’t normal, right?
“Um, are you sure? I just don-”
“Relax sir, you’re in good hands, don’t worry.”
The honorific ‘sir’ sounded out of place and empty coming from her.
“Could we maybe talk about what’s happening first?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”
Okay, that was enough. I stood up and made to walk to the door, but I was incredibly woozy. I stumbled, and she caught me.
“Sir, please don’t move. This is a delicate procedure.”
Delicate? A check up?
I pushed at her, and it came across more as weak flailing. She pushed me back into the chair, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand up again.
She leant in close.
“I’m going to take could care of you.”
My vision was swimming, but I could hear the smile in her voice. I did not find it comforting.
Then she pulled down her mask.

I realised where the strong smell of plaque was coming from, and without the mask I smelt a few new smells. Particularly, the smell of decay. Of rot.
Her teeth were rotted and yellowed, practically browned. They were utterly skewed, twisting around and over each other. She didn’t have all her teeth, it seemed, while at the same time it looked like she had more than anyone should. They didn’t conform to the normal human teeth structure, as canines grew from the sides and a molar had forced its way between her front teeth.
I would have lost it, had I been able. All I could do was open my eyes wide, before feeling the tug of whatever she drugged me with.
She smiled at me with her rotted, bleeding teeth.
I slipped out of consciousness.


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