Heartbreakers Must Pay

Chapter 1 "Day Dreaming"

This is the first of seven parts to my short story.  I wrote something like this for my high school 'creative writing' class.  It is the first story that had an "impact" on others and many of the girls in my class asked me for a copy. 

I hope you enjoy it too!

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5:01

My grip tightens around the dental pliers glinting in the fading rays. I drop my gaze to the pathetic patch of sun bleached carpet and fight my thoughts from wandering to Autumn in Paris--today would have been the second day of my dream honeymoon. Today could have been...

"Ummmm Cori?"

I look over and, unable to hide my scowl this late on a Friday, I simply let it set in. "What?"

Tiffany's red pump twists behind her toned 20-something calf. I can't bear to look at her perfect white teeth--even for a dental hygienist, teeth shouldn't glow.

"I...umm...well, we just got in a patient," she swallows.

I enjoy the fear in her voice. She wants to ask me if I'll take him. She wants to tell me she has a date tonight, and I of course, do not. Even though I've been a certified dentist for only two weeks, I still outrank her.

I'm going to make her ask. I'm going to make her beg. Beg right through that sickening wedding-white smile. "And?"

Tiffany's manicured hands twist. "And well, he's already been sedated. Dr. Rumee had me give him a pretty good dose."

I stand and square my shoulders to her. Sliding the pliers into the coat pocket, I subconsciously hear it clink against my engagement ring and I wince. "And what? For Christ's sake, just say it. You have a date. You want to leave. You want me to stay and prep him because I must have nothing else to do on a Friday night."

"No, no, really, I wasn't saying that." Tiffany takes a step back trying to steady herself and her voice. "There's not much to do. He's been in some sort of accident or fight or something. Just a few broken teeth to pull. And like I said, he's been sedated already."

Damn. I reopen the cut on my tongue. Should I swallow the blood? Or let Tiffany watch me spit into the little swirling toilet bowl next to the chair. I give her a narrowed eye glare, turn and spit. "Get out of here."

"Do you need any--"

"Did I say needed anything?" I spit again. "I said leave. So leave."

She turns and scurries out the room, mumbling under her breath. I think I hear her say 'what a bitch' but I know who I am.

Almost grateful for something to pull my thoughts away from Paris, I wash my hands in scalding water. Steam from the faucet intermixes with smells of fluoride and nasty blueberry paste. It twists in my stomach like a Cobra bearing her fangs and fanning her hood. My hands burn red under the relentless stream, but even the burn of my flesh can't stop the flood of memories.

Again and again, I see myself turning before the mirror in my dream bridal gown--the one I designed right down to the last sparkle and pearl--just three weeks before my wedding. My dad smiled. "You look like the fairy princess you always told me you would grow up to be. Vahn is the luckiest man alive." He winked and tapped his hand to his breast pocket. "And I know Vahn loves you with all his heart."

How could my dad have known what was to come?

Time haunts me. Every breath I take tortures me back to that moment. The moment when I could have, no should have, walked down the aisle...