I looked around, taking inventory of the school clinic waiting room. There were a few other boys in the waiting room. Some were crying, some were eyeing the door- but all inevitably about to suffer the same fate as me.

I could hear the high pitched whine of the drill from the other room, shortly followed by a line of agonized shouts. Some children began to tremble as a boy left the room soon after. I could see he was clutching his jaw in pain, tears running down his face.

Eventually I was called into the room and forced to sit in the chair, the dentist and his assistant looked fiercely at me.

“Open.”

After a quick exam, the dentist grabbed the drill and started it up. It was a belt driven drill and not a particularly fast one. My eyes widened, my body stiff with fear. “Ah!”

A molt gag was shoved into the my mouth, and clicked up to its highest setting. The assistant held me down as the dentist dug the drill in very, very deep. I let out an ear piercing scream.

The assistant scolded me for not brushing and the dentist continued. After constant drilling for 15 minutes, the drill jammed in my tooth.

A strangled scream pierced the walls of the dental office. The assistant laughs, suctioning up bits of tooth and saliva. “Now, now, this wouldn’t have happened if we were brushing.”

Once the dentist fixed the drill the relentless pain continued for another 10 minutes. Once the dentist finished, I thought that it was over and they would let me go. But then the dentist said that they’ll need to fill my second cavity.

At this news, I started to wail.

The drill dug in again for another 20 minutes.