Katelyn has always battled with her anxiety, a constant struggle that often makes her feel isolated in her experiences. Today, she nervously checks in at the front desk of the dentist's office. The waiting room is chilly and drab, with an array of untouched magazines on a nearby table. The air is saturated with the sharp, clinical scent of latex and disinfectant
. As Katelyn sits, she observes the other patients around her, trying to distract herself from her restless leg, which seems to have a mind of its own. She can't help but notice how seemingly at ease the other patients appear, nonchalantly scrolling through their phones or leafing through glossy but uninteresting magazines.
A woman in white approaches the room with a clipboard in hand and, to Katelyn's dread, calls out her name. Katelyn clenches her fists, swallows back the nausea building in her throat, and stands to follow the woman down asylum-grey halls lined with industrial doors. The woman stops at the third door down to the right and opens it, gesturing for Katelyn to proceed inside. She steps into the room and feels the heat and the chill of sweat breaking all over her body. Katelyn sits in the odd-looking torture chair, where she is left alone, waiting yet again.
She fiddles with her hands in a feeble attempt to self-soothe before hearing rapping on the door. Before she can answer, ‘Come in,’ the door opens, and the dentist enters. She suddenly loses the ability to swallow and begins to tremble uncontrollably. The dentist starts to speak, likely greeting her as he puts on his gloves, but she doesn’t hear anything. Katelyn fights the urge to vomit as she desperately tries to process the mumbling beyond the ringing in her ears. Her heart is pounding in her chest; her lungs refuse any air. A balloon of pressure builds inside her, and she is certain death or doom is waiting when it finally chooses to pop.
Before the end has a chance to take her, she stands abruptly, mumbling what she hopes was a coherent ‘I have to go,’ before bolting out of the white torture box, down the asylum hall, to the escape door. Katelyn makes her break into the bright outside. Fresh air fills her lungs, and the nauseous monster quietly retreats down her throat. Her heart slows its violence on her aching chest; goosebumps slowly disappear. She is safe now. She is safe but left feeling self-disappointed. Tears escape her involuntarily as she allows the sun to warm her from the bitter cold of that place. Katelyn breathes a sigh of exhaustion before reminding herself that it’s okay. She will try again another day.
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