Surviving torture

The room was dim and filled with strange objects. She stood in the center, her eyes gleaming. She approached me with tools that glistened ominously. My heart pounded in my chest, fear gripping me like icy fingers.

With a wicked smile, she started her work. The drill whirred, and I felt a sharp, unbearable pain. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. Then came the saw, its edges biting into my flesh. I was certain this was the end.

Just when I thought I couldn't take any more, she brought out a vial of some viscous liquid. She poured it into the holes she had made, and a burning sensation spread through my body. Everything started to blur, and I felt myself slipping away into darkness.

Her kind voice broke through my daze, “We’re almost done here. Are you feeling okay?” I nodded, more out of instinctive fear than any kind of agreement or understanding, as the dentist wrapped up my root canal.