Anti-dentite by Nastasya Perekuta

I can smell the tobacco
of the wet palms of own hands. I can hear the dynamic melody of my heart palpitations. I feel one elevated temp. But, I’ve decided, there is no turning back for me. It’s seemed, here is no way back for anyone.
Scream. Strange, but desperate. Long and loud. Almost permanent. Already annoying.
WHY ME? That’s the question that will follow me to the grave.
No, I’m done. I‘ve had enough. I start to run. Even not trying to look back. Several white robes stop me with stupid artificial smiles on cold faces.
Pain. Think of the most intense pain you’ve ever experienced, and imagine feeling that for one third of your life.
– Mr. Jordan?
– …
– Is there Mr. Jordan in the waiting room? He’s up.
– Yeah… unfortunately, that’s me.
– Oh, welcome, Sir! Dr. Marshal will see you in Room 13.
– …
– You are pale. Don’t worry, we’ll help you. Dr. Marshal is the best dentist in the district.
– With the Lord…