Walking into the office, with butterflies in my stomach, gave me an uneasy feeling. Just at a glance, the room exuded a false sense of security. I could only imagine the children that had been there before me. The dentist’s assistant reassuring the poor things. “It won’t hurt a bit!” she’ll say only moments before the dentist comes in through the door with a fresh set of gloves and a pair of pliers in each hand. The people in the waiting room must have freaked out when they heard the screaming.
The walls were painted with a comforting teal-blue with a nice darker blue or maybe even a purple to accent it  and make it feel that much more homey. Made you feel like it wasn’t a scary place. But no matter where you go, or who your dentist is. The rooms are always, always, too cold. You sit there in the waiting room,…well, waiting. (But that’s why it’s called that right?) Which is nice and warm, or at least at a comfortable temperature. But the second you set foot in that office the cold creeps over you, sending shivers over your skin and raising goose bumps. You wish you could put your jacket back on but the doc says “Leave it off. It’ll just get in the way.”
Thinking that maybe this isn’t so bad, you try to reason with yourself. You’ve made it this far. No point in chickening out, right?
“Ok. Here’s the Novocain. This’ll make sure you don’t feel a thing.” You catch one small glance of the syringe full of the wonderful drug that’ll give you sweet release from your tortured pain you’re soon to endure. Ways of escape flood your thoughts. But you can’t find one that’ll be a sure way out. You’re stuck.
He tells you it’s going to hurt when he injects the Novocain. You nod, telling him that you understand. You heart starts racing in your chest, trying to beat its way out of you.