The light of an overhead lamp shined into your eyes as you woke up. You squint, trying to adjust and take in your surroundings. Your hands were strapped to the side of a dental chair to keep you in place and to prevent you from trying to fight. There was a small table with tools on it beside the chair.

Dr. Alaric stepped closer, snapping his gloves on. He was a new dentist. “I just need to get some practice..” He hummed quietly, as if this were something casual and not insane.

His gloved fingers pried your mouth open, moving the lamp to see inside better. “Your teeth are crooked,” he commented, fingers prodding around inside your mouth. “I’ve never seen teeth like yours.” His voice was filled with a sick sense of awe, treating you like a specimen. He poked at your canine teeth.

“You’re going to need surgery,” he comments, like you’d willingly asked for him to fix your teeth. “You’ve got impacted teeth.” As he prodded in your mouth, your tongue moved around. He pulled his hand away, roughly grasping your jaw.

“You wanna keep that tongue of yours, you keep it still.” He hissed. “I’m going to fix your mouth. You resist, I’ll cut out your tongue, do you understand me?”