Gary decided he’d had enough of being told what to do.

The professionals spoke calmly, reasonably, and with infuriating certainty. Every instruction felt like a reminder that he’d lost control of his own situation. That didn’t sit well.

He went home angry.

Anger was easier than fear. Easier than admitting he was in over his head. Easier than trusting people who now clearly expected him to mess up again.

He opened drawers he shouldn’t have opened. Googled things he shouldn’t have Googled. Convinced himself that if he was careful — really careful — he could fix this himself and be done with it.

The logic was flawed, but comforting.

Gary stood in his bathroom staring at his reflection, tools laid out with more confidence than sense. This wasn’t bravery. It was refusal. A refusal to be managed, corrected, or humbled any further.

Part of him knew this was a bad idea. That voice was still there, faint but persistent.

Another part of him was tired of listening.

He had one last choice before things became genuinely dangerous. Swallow his pride and seek help, even if it felt humiliating and late. Or double down completely and see this through, whatever that meant.

Gary took a breath, hands unsteady.

This was no longer about the tooth.

It was about control.

Seek help too late, but seek it anyway → Page 91

Double down on the DIY attempt → Page 95