Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Tyson pushes open a door, pulling me down a hallway, passing room after room where the hygienists clean their clients’ teeth.
We pass another reception desk, and he then comes to the last room on the right. A man sits in a chair, his back to us. A dentist chair sits in the middle of the room. “Sit,” Tyson orders, pushing me toward it.
“Ty—”
“Good afternoon.” The man turns around to face us. He gives me a warm smile and looks to Tyson. “Congratulations on the wedding. It was beautiful.”
I shift uncomfortably in the chair. He’s a Lord. Of course, he is. “Tyson?” My wide eyes find his as he sits down in a chair in the corner. “What are we doing here?” I ask, licking my lips nervously.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls his cell out of the pocket of his jeans and drops his eyes to it while he types away. The guy I’m assuming is the dentist chuckles softly. “We’ll have you guys out of here in no time.” He places the blue paper bib on my chest, fastening it around my neck, and I try to even out my breathing. I’ve never been a fan of the dentist. And to be here, not knowing why, makes my heart race more so than it already was.
Turning his back to me, he resumes whatever he was doing when we arrived, and Tyson continues to type away on his phone as if he’s writing a fucking novel to someone.
I close my eyes. Deep breaths, Lake.
“Open wide,” the guy says, and my eyes spring open just in time to see him leaning over my chair from behind. He’s shoving something into my mouth, and I don’t even have the chance to fight him.
It’s big and bulky, filling my mouth, and he presses it to the top, his fingers making sure to pull my upper lip around it. I start gagging as something touches the back of my throat.
“Breathe,” he tells me. “Through your nose.”
I pull my knees up, my back arching off the chair, but no matter how much I try to move, he keeps his left hand in my mouth, his fingers holding the device to the roof of my mouth. Tears sting my eyes, and just when I think I’m about to puke, he pushes down on it. I feel suction before it pops loose, and I watch him remove it. It’s a paste of some kind. I realize that I’ve done it before. He’s having molds made for whitening trays. Luke had me bleach my teeth. He wanted a Barbie for a wife. Small framed, glowing white teeth, and big tits. He always told me things that needed to be changed about my body. How he wanted to be attracted to me. He’s spent the last few years of my life altering what needed to be changed.
Why the fuck would Tyson care what color my teeth are?
I sit up, coughing. My tongue feeling the small pieces left around my mouth. I dig my fingers around and spit them out, not caring what I look like. Tyson has already seen me come and cry. I’m sure his plan is to make me feel humiliated in my everyday life.
I’m grabbed and pulled back down before I can fight the dentist again. He pushes my lips apart and does the same thing to the bottom. It’s not nearly as bad as the top was.
I stare at the clock on the wall, watching the secondhand make its way around sixty seconds before he removes it. “When was the last time you went to the dentist?” the man asks, placing the small mirror inside my mouth and looking around.
Hell if I know. “Six months ago,” I say, trying to think when the last time I had a cleaning.
He removes the mirror and mumbles a, “Hmm,” to himself.
Looking up at the ceiling, I run my tongue over my teeth, spitting out the chunks of the leftover mold.
Then his fingers are back in my mouth, pulling my lips apart. “Let that sit there,” he says, removing his hand, and something remains in my mouth.
“Wh—”
“Don’t talk,” he scolds me. “That numbing cream needs to set up. You’ve got a cavity that I’m going to fix. Afterward, I’ll clean them, and you kids will be on your way,” the dentist now sings, tapping my shoulder.
My eyes go to the corner to see if Tyson is still on his phone, but he’s no longer there.
THIRTEEN
TYSON
I pull up to Blackout and turn off my car. She hasn’t spoken to me since we left the dentist’s office thirty minutes ago. Getting out, I open her door and grab her hand, pulling her from it.
“Why are we here?” she asks softly when we enter through the back door.
All the lights are on, but we’re the only ones here at the moment. “This is where we’ll live,” I inform her.