Blood on the Ceiling

​I slid under the sheets of my bed and pulled the cover up tight to make sure the bed bugs wouldn't bite. I then closed my eyes and was quickly off into Never Neverland...

​I sat in the dental chair and for some reason they had me strapped in with a seat belt around my waist and two straps around my wrists. I waited with great terror as the dentist entered and was wearing a mask that was of a face with the expression of intense pain and suffering. I thought he would take it off but he didn't. 

For whatever reason he didn't have an assistant and when I asked him a couple of questions he didn't answer. The next time he turned around he had on a different mask- it was one of a smiling face. And I knew why he was smiling: because he had a massive needle in his hand, a needle that seemed extra long and sharp. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth as I waited for the quick stab of pain when it entered my gums, but instead he jabbed my tongue and I tried to scream in pain but the injection had made it impossible. My tongue was numb. Now he could have his way with me and nobody would hear the screams.

He undid the belt around my waist and the straps around my arms. I didn't dare move out of the chair and he knew I wouldn't try. He turned his back towards me to put down the needle and when he turned around he was wearing a mask of an angry face. With a rusty drill buzzing in his hand he went to work on my teeth. He fishooked the side of my mouth with two fingers and that's when I noticed he wasn't wearing any gloves and his fingers were raw and chapped; his fingernails dark brown with dried blood. I could feel my lips tear as he pulled down on them and I could taste the blood dripping in my mouth. 

I cried in agony as he grinded on my teeth without using any type of anaesthesia, the only thing he properly numbed was my tongue so I could not scream. He continued to savagely grind away hitting nerve after nerve, the whole time pulling down on my lips. I could taste the tears in my mouth, the ones that came running down my cheeks. 

He stepped away from me, his hands and face smeared with blood. When he turned back towards me he had on a mask of extreme hate. In his hands was a mini vice grip that was used in extracting teeth. He clamped on and stated to grunt as he pulled. There was a snap as he broke off part of the tooth. He tried again and another snap. The pain was so great that I passed out and when I came to it he was directly overtop of me with a foot on each of the chair arms; he was trying to get leverage to yank out a tooth. I looked at the ceiling and it was splattered with blood and again I began to whimper in pain, thinking that I might actually die in the dentist's chair. His sweat poured onto my face and into my mouth and he continued to pull on my lips to extract the tooth. I could feel the muscles around my eyes gravitate downwards in pain.

And then I woke up. 

And walked to the washroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My face had been contorted into a permanent mask of agony and suffering.