Four
I WAKE UP TO THE SOUND of metal clinking. Groggily, I turn in the direction of the noise as my nostrils fill with the weirdly familiar combination of disinfectant, bleach, and wintergreen toothpaste. I open my eyes, then shut them abruptly against the glaring overhead light shining directly into my face. A flash of neon spots burns into my retinas.
“It’s nice of you to visit, Violet.”
The words are muffled and hard to understand. However, the voice is eerily recognizable. I begin to tremble but I don’t know if it’s from the fear that is rapidly setting in or from the cold air. It feels like a refrigerator in here and I realize that I have on only the T-shirt and underwear that I’d worn to bed.
“Wake up!” I shout to myself to escape this nightmare.
I squint against the light. The outline of a man with broad shoulders and a tummy as big as Santa Claus’s slowly comes into focus. His face is turned away from me but I can see that he is sitting on one of those rolling stools like they use in a doctor’s office. I try to sit up to get a better look but I can’t move. I look down to find that I am strapped into a dentist’s chair with zip ties around my chest, wrists, and ankles.
“Dr. Jen-Jenkins?” I stammer, forcing myself to say the dead dentist’s name out loud.
I turn my head shakily from side to side. Somehow, I know that I am still in my bedroom but it looks like my old dentist’s office. Even the jungle-theme mural that covered the walls of the clinic is now where my movie posters usually hang.
If this is a dream, it is the realest dream that I’ve ever had. A chill runs down my bare legs. Whatever is happening to me is as unbelievable as it is terrifying.
Suddenly, there is a faint whirring noise as the dentist chair begins to recline farther back; it stops abruptly once I am lying almost flat. I fight against the restraints but they are so tight that there isn’t any room to move.
“Open wide,” Dr. Jenkins commands. I know that it’s him speaking but it feels like his voice is coming from inside my own head.
I shut my mouth and clench my jaw so hard that my neck muscles ache. Dr. Jenkins pries open my lips with his fat fingers and shoves his hand all the way inside. The bitter taste of the powder from the latex glove he wears rubs onto my tongue.
“Looks rotten, Violet,” Dr. Jenkins says as he clamps a pair of pliers around a tooth. “We’re gonna have to yank it out.”
I jerk my entire body back and forth and try to scream but manage only a low moan. The razor-sharp points of the pliers begin digging into my gums and I taste my own blood.
“I’m afraid these just aren’t cutting it.” Dr. Jenkins laughs as he yanks the pliers out and throws them onto the floor.
His face turns cherry red but this time, I don’t find it funny at all. My salty tears mix with my blood. After a minute, my cries are drowned out by the buzzing sound of a drill.
“No, no, please, Dr. Jenkins,” I beg.
The dentist ignores my pleas. “Open.”
This time I willingly oblige. Once Dr. Jenkins’s hand is inside my mouth, I bite down hard. I feel the latex rip and then his skin open as I sink my teeth into him. Then I begin to gag. His decaying flesh tastes like a rotting pig. A disgusting liquid seeps out from the puncture that my bite has made and starts to fill my mouth. The pungent odor is so potent that I instantly feel woozy.
Dr. Jenkins withdraws his hand. “It isn’t polite to bite.”
I recognize the smell of formaldehyde, and it dawns on me that Dr. Jenkins is oozing the embalming fluid that was used to preserve his body. A pool of blood, spit, and embalming fluid forms at the back of my mouth and I start to choke. My throat begins to close and the air stops flowing. I buck against the chair as I try to breathe. I force myself to swallow the repulsive mix of liquids.
The only thing that stops me from vomiting or fainting is the sharp screeching noise that is rapidly getting louder. Before I know what is happening, the dentist jabs the drill into my mouth. I look up at him with my eyes wide open. The overhead light shines directly on him now and I can see Dr. Jenkins clearly. He looks just like he did earlier this afternoon at the funeral home with his face covered in thick, waxy makeup and his eyes and mouth glued shut.
“I’m afraid this is going to be a little tricky without my eyesight, Violet.”
Dr. Jenkins pokes his finger around until he finds a molar located at the very back of my mouth, then he rams the drill bit through the tooth’s enamel until he hits what feels like every nerve in my body. I shriek. The pain radiates in constant waves.
“Fight,” I hear a faint voice call out from somewhere.
I desperately want to find where it is coming from and plead with whoever it is to help me. Nothing about this can be real but it is also not a dream.
Just as I feel myself begin to pass out, Dr. Jenkins stops drilling. Unconsciousness would surely bring some kind of relief but all of a sudden, my survival instincts kick in. I sense that I have to stay awake and endure this if I want to live. I force myself to breathe, fighting through the sheer agony that any kind of movement brings with it.
I hear the high-pitched scream of the drill again and I brace myself. He feels around my mouth but this time, just the pressure of his finger makes me jump.
“I warned you about too much sugar.” Dr. Jenkins shakes his head. “I’m afraid this one is going to kill, Violet.”
Then he lowers the drill bit right into the infected cavity. Every part of me, from the top of my head to the very bottoms of my feet, throbs. My body begins to spasm uncontrollably.
“Hold still,” Dr. Jenkins scolds as he lifts his elbow up high and then pounds it into me.
I feel like the air has been sucked out of me. He punches me but I don’t know where. There is so much pain coming from every part of my body. I gasp, then cough.
“Fight,” the voice says again, but this time it is louder.
I realize it’s coming from inside me and I have no choice but to listen. I don’t know what is happening but I do know that only I can stop it.
I take a deep breath. My mouth is raw and pulsing. I make myself take another breath and then another until my heart rate begins to slow.
I don’t hear the drill, which means that Dr. Jenkins is taking another break. This is my chance. I feel a tingle run down my spine. Harnessing all the strength I have left in me, I will myself to move. I yank my arms straight up in the air, breaking through the ties. Then I rip off the plastic tie around my chest and the ties around my ankles.
Dr. Jenkins flips on the drill and thrusts it toward my face. I knock it out of his hand and pummel him as hard as I can. He stumbles backward, then regains his balance and lunges at me. Frantically, I grab one of the dental instruments from the metal tray between us. When Dr. Jenkins is close enough, I plunge a sharp, curved hook directly into his closed left eye. He lets out a low groan. I ram it in until I hear a loud popping sound and his eyeball flies out. It lands on the floor and rolls under his stool. Embalming fluid rushes out of Dr. Jenkins’s empty socket like a flood of tears.
He tries to grab me but I quickly duck out of the way. I retrieve the hook and am about to stab him again when Dr. Jenkins suddenly disappears. The dentist chair, drill, and everything else vanishes along with him.
I stop abruptly and look around in utter confusion to see that I am back in my bedroom again. Standing in the exact spot where Dr. Jenkins was only a moment ago is a girl not much older than me. Her skin is the color of clay and her black hair is shaved close to her head.