3WW: Control / Flesh / Razor

The Root Canal

Mike sitting in a reclined position,  eyes shut so tight for if he opens them the light will just blind him and he can't stand to look at the man in the mask any longer.  His hands are white knuckled as he grips the arms on the chair.  He hears drilling, suction and feels bits of debris hitting his face every few seconds. 

 

He jumps ever so slightly in the chair.  "Sonofabitch! That fucking hurt! Was that a razor?", but all the man in the mask hears is mumbling and asks "Did that hurt?".  Mike nods, a tear trickling down his face, trying to control himself.  The man in the mask stops and grabs a syringe, asks Mike to once again open wide.  The syringe feels cold as it is inserted into the flesh of his gums.