I could only smell anesthesia, a faint buzzing on one side of my head, and a distinct lack of sensation on my right side. I could hear soft jazz. Did I have a dentist appointment? My eyes were slowly adjusting to the glare of the light when I saw it: to my left, a small table with bloodied surgical instruments; on the ceiling, a mesmerizing texture; and to my right, a man in a fabric suit smiling at me while holding the turbine to penetrate my tooth. What the hell? Why can’t I move?

  "Shhh, relax. We’ll be done soon. As long as you cooperate, everything will be easier."

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  I tried to move. I tried to get out of there, but I couldn’t. A slimy sensation crawled over my right shoulder, and I could smell blood mixed with anesthesia. Horrified, I looked at the assistant—a man with a strange scar on the right side of his face and a vacant gaze. A chill ran down my spine as I realized his pupils weren’t focused on anything.

  He approached me with clumsy steps, holding a small mirror in his hands. I got a bad feeling the moment I saw the frame, decorated with teeth of unknown origin. What I saw when he tilted the mirror to show my face left me speechless...