Denton’s workshop was once a sanctuary, where the hum of his dental drill had been as soothing as any lullaby. Now, the sight of it sent a cold shudder down his spine. The room smelled of stale coffee and something sharper—disuse and regret.
Ellie stood at the threshold, her small frame silhouetted against the brighter light of the workshop. “Dad?” Her voice was tentative, a question rather than a statement.
He turned to her, his expression guarded. “What is it, Ellie?”
She hesitated, fingers tracing the edge of the doorframe. “I found this place...” She gestured vaguely into the room. “Behind the bookshelf.”
The door creaked open, revealing a space untouched by time. Dust motes danced in the thin beam of light filtering through the cracked window. Denton could almost see ghosts of his past moving around—the eager apprentice he’d been, the confident dentist he’d become, and then the shattered man he was now.
Ellie stepped inside, her eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of apprehension.
The room was small, cluttered with remnants of a practice long abandoned. Chairs draped in white sheets. Trays of instruments, tarnished and dull. And there, propped against the wall, a patient’s file—its edges frayed from years of being handled, opened, and closed.
Ellie’s gaze landed on it. She reached out, her fingers brushing the faded cover. “Whose is this?”
Denton swallowed hard. “An old... case.”
She pulled the file out, flipping it open. Her eyebrows furrowed as she scanned the notes. Medical jargon and clinical observations swam before her eyes, but one phrase stood out: Botched Procedure.
Ellie looked up at him, confusion and fear flickering in her gaze. “Dad, what does this mean?”
Denton’s mind raced, memories clawing their way to the surface. The cold sweat of that night, the desperate struggle, the final, horrible outcome. He forced himself to meet her eyes. “It means I made a mistake.”
Ellie’s breath hitched. She closed the file, clutching it to her chest like a shield. “What kind of mistake?”
He ran a hand through his hair, turning away from her probing gaze. “A bad one.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue.
She took a step closer, her voice softening. “Dad, talk to me.”
His shoulders slumped. “It was a patient... she was just a girl. Younger than you.” He paused, the weight of the memory pressing down on him. “I thought I could fix her tooth. It was a simple extraction, or so I thought. But something went wrong.”
Ellie’s grip on the file tightened. “What happened?”
Denton closed his eyes, seeing again the panic, the blood, the unresponsive form on the chair. “She had an allergic reaction to the anesthetic. I didn’t see it coming.” He opened his eyes, meeting her frightened gaze. “She died, Ellie.”
Ellie’s breath hitched again, but she stood her ground. “Is that why you stopped?”
He nodded, a sharp jerk of his head. “I couldn’t... I just couldn’t do it anymore.”
She looked around the room, taking in the remnants of his old life. Her eyes lingered on the dental chair, its leather cracked and worn. “And this place? Why hide it?”
Denton’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “Because I wanted to forget. I wanted to pretend none of it happened.” He gestured to the file she held. “But some things can’t be hidden forever.”
Ellie looked down at the file, her fingers tracing the faded ink. Then she set it gently on a nearby table, as if handling something fragile and precious. She turned back to him, her expression thoughtful. “Maybe it’s time to stop hiding, Dad.”
Denton felt a pang in his chest, a mixture of fear and something else—hope, perhaps. He looked at his daughter, seeing the strength in her despite her small size. She was right. Hiding hadn’t helped anyone.
“Ellie,” he started, his voice hoarse with emotion. “There’s more you need to know.”
She waited, her eyes never leaving his face. The room seemed to hold its breath around them.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he had to say. “The creature... the one taking teeth? I think it might be connected to my past.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “To that night.”
Ellie’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t interrupt. She listened, her gaze steady and unafraid.
Denton continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been having dreams... nightmares. About that girl. And about teeth.” He shivered, remembering the cold, sharp edges of broken enamel in his sleep. “And now this creature—it’s like it’s trying to tell me something.”
Ellie reached out, taking his hand. Her grip was warm and reassuring. “Then we’ll figure it out together,” she said simply.
Denton looked at their entwined hands, feeling a surge of gratitude and love. For the first time in years, he didn’t feel so alone.
They stood there for a moment longer, the weight of his confession hanging between them. Then Ellie pulled away gently, her gaze drifting to something on the floor—a glint of metal half-hidden under a sheet.
She knelt down, pulling back the cloth. A dental drill lay there, its tip chipped and dull. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands. “Dad, what is this?”
Denton’s heart pounded as he recognized the tool. It was from that night—a relic of his past mistakes. He reached out, taking it from her carefully. “It’s just an old drill,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction.
Ellie looked up at him, her eyes reflecting a new understanding. She didn’t press further, simply nodded before stepping back into the workshop, leaving Denton alone with the ghosts of his past.