The chair was exactly as bad as Gary remembered.

Reclined slightly too far back. Bright light positioned with surgical precision. A tray of instruments laid out neatly beside it like props in a horror film that pretended to be educational.

“Take a seat,” the dentist said calmly.

Gary sat.

Immediately, his body tensed, muscles locking as if preparing for impact. He forced himself to breathe through his nose, counting slowly like he’d been told, even though counting had never helped with anything in his life before.

She moved around him with efficient confidence, adjusting the chair, checking notes, explaining what she was doing before she did it. Gary clung to that. The explanation mattered.

“I’m just going to take a look first,” she said. “No surprises.”

Gary nodded. Talking felt dangerous.

“Open,” she said gently.

He did, wincing slightly as his jaw protested. The familiar pressure returned as she examined the tooth, the light bright enough to make his eyes water.

“Okay,” she said after a moment. “The antibiotics are doing their job. But this tooth still needs proper treatment.”

Gary swallowed. “How proper?”

She smiled faintly. “Manageable.”

That was the best word she could have used.

She explained the process step by step. What would happen today. What would wait. What might hurt and what definitely wouldn’t. Gary listened intently, nodding along, feeling the fear shrink as information replaced imagination.

“You’re doing well,” she added.

That surprised him.

“I am?” Gary asked.

“Yes,” she said. “You stayed.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way.

Proceed with the treatment → Page 63

Ask to stop and leave shaken → Page 71