Happy October 🎃

Day 27: Dr. Lestatt-Sugar

The chair creaks as you settle into it, your fingers nervously tapping the metal arms. Dim lights barely light up the sterile, cold room, with shadows adorning every corner and over the instruments laid out on the nearby tray. Your appointment with Dr. Lestatt-Sugar was supposed to just be a root canal, just as he had told you. But right now now, Dr. Lestatt was standing over you with that unsettling, almost amused look in his orange eyes, his third eye, a blood-red and unblinking, was fixated on you, as if it has its own intentions.

You gulp. The cold metal glints as he picks up a tool that looks inappropriate for a root canal. Your heart was pounding as your usual anxiety came around. "A-aren't we... just fixing my tooth?" you manage, voice trembling.

He pauses, the sharp tool inches from your lips, and leans closer, his face ghostly pale under the dim lights, yet somehow warm with a strange sort of curiosity. The red-orange arms extending from his back twitch slightly, like they're restless, eager.

"Oh, we could do that..." He speaks softly... "But I've thought of something far more interesting." His thumb brushes lightly over your chin, tilting your head back. "You have such unique teeth... I think it would be... Well... Delightful... to explore them further. Perhaps extract a few and see how well your jaw takes the after experience."

"What?" Your hands clench the armrests, the cold metal digging into your palms. "B-but, I-I didn't agree to that. I just need a root canal, Dr. Lestatt..."

He laughs softly and he straightens his back, looking down at you with that familiar, unsettling calm face. "Relax, dear." He breathes deeply, with a faint, sweet scent of nitrous oxide on his breath as he slowly exhales. "I can see you're nervous, but I assure you, there's nothing to fear. You'll hardly feel a thing, I promise."

Your stomach churns, but something in his voice-a strange, almost comforting tone-makes you hesitate. His hands, gloved and ghostly white, brush over your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Besides," he purrs, leaning closer until his face is mere inches from yours, "it's not often I get to see such... rare teeth. Why deny me this little pleasure? Don't you like me?"

You swallow hard, his look pinning you to the chair. The red eye on his forehead never blinks, tracking your reactions as if it's aware of your fear, almost savoring it. Part of you wants to pull away, to protest, but his soft, low voice manipulates your mind, plucking your anxieties with an odd, unsettling warmth. "Please, be still. It would be so easy, so painless... you might even enjoy it."

Although you mentally protested, you found yourself nodding slightly, your muscles loosening. Perhaps it's the gas-its strange, sweet scent drifting from the mask he's set up nearby, intoxicating the air as he doesn't bother to turn it off-or maybe it's the way his words just slide over you, making it hard to focus. He smiles, revealing a row of unnaturally perfect teeth, and a spark lights up in his orange eyes. "Good," he whispers, reaching for another tool. He doesn't even bother to put on a medical mask, he was too excited.

You close your eyes, trying not to think too hard about what's happening, and his calm voice continues, seducing you into calm as he works. The prick of the needle is quick, a sting which went away almost immediately thanks to the gas.

"There we go... Now, let's make that pretty smile of yours just a little more... unique," he murmurs, and though you can't see him, you can hear the smile in his voice. It's almost affectionate-almost caring, in a way that feels both soothing and terribly wrong.

"What a pity..." he murmurs, his voice was laced with amusement, "We're not even half done." He holds up one of your teeth, examining it, as he sets it aside.

He hums softly, the faint sound of his breathing and the muffled clinks of tools in the background. You lose track of time, slipping further into a strange half-conscious state as he works, until finally, his voice reaches you through the fog.

"See?" he purrs, sounding delighted. "What a good patient you are. So brave and quiet." The sharp scent of antiseptic hits your nose as he presses gauze against your gums, his fingers tracing your jawline with a chilling gentleness. "I knew you'd come around." His big fingers in your mouth makes you uncomfortable, but he's quick to pull away.

As you blink, fighting the urge to fall asleep, he tilts your chin up, his orange eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Now... let's schedule you for next time. There's so much more I'd like to do with you."

The last thing you see before everything fades to black is his third eye, watching you with an almost hungry look. It's as if it's the only one that truly sees you-the only one that truly understands what you've just lost.