Not So Perfect Smile – Sequel to Smile

As my sister pulls up in her 1998 Toyota, I sheath my pliers in my waist band behind my back then walk to her smiling. Making sure my mouth is closed, I open the door for her as she looks at me confused.

“I thought you said this was renovated into a dentist office…” she says cautiously. I smile and let my mouth open, showing my toothless gums.

“It has been, it’s my office.” I say before throwing a fist at her temple. She was out cold.

Grabbing her shoulders and pulling her out of the car, I let her unconscious body fall into the dirt. I sigh.

“I’m sorry, but my smile is all I have, sis. I will make sure your teeth last longer than that b***h-fairy’s did.”

I pick her up and put her over my shoulder then make my way to the operating table. As I walk, I notice she’s gained weight.

“Well now you’ll not be eating so much. Maybe you’ll lose that 20 pounds of liquor you gained last night.” I laugh at myself and drop her on the old hospital bed carelessly. I needed to get to work soon.

Revealing my pliers and using a make-shift jaw opener, I admire the teeth I’d always longed for with a triumphant grin. I start with the top set, yanking and ripping bloody teeth out of my only sister’s mouth. One by one, I drop them in a tray filled with saline and peroxide. Bubbles form as the blood dissolves.

She stirs and I freeze.

“One more tooth, don’t wake up yet.” I mumble. I reach for the last tooth carefully but hastily.

“AHHHHHHHHH!!!!” she screams. I panic.

“F**K F**K F**K F**K. NO NO NO NO NO.” I desperately try to find a way to put her back under but she rolls off the bed landing on her face. I look down and see blood gushing from a crack in her skull.

“Dammit. Now this is murder. WHY DIDN’T YOU STAY ASLEEP YOU F**K A*S.” I throw my pliers down and lift her up on the bed again. Without hesitation, I yank the last tooth out with my fingers then drop it in the cleaning mix with the others.

“Now what do I do with you.” I think out loud. Putting her back over my shoulder, I go to an old boiler room. I remember an open tank and make a b-line for it. When I reach my sister’s tomb, I drop her on the dirty cement floor.

“Better make sure.” I say spotting a broken pipe shard. I grab it and raise it over my head. I plunge it in her forehead, and gasps at the tears running down my face.  I angrily wipe them away and pick up my now dead sister. I stare at her for a couple of seconds, but it feels like years. All the years I spent with her. Now I’ll never see her again, never talk about guys with her again, never have a partner in crime through life. I shake my head and take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry…” I toss her into the water tank and close the door securing it with a latch.

Returning to my operating table, I glance at the teeth still bubbling in cleaning solution. Anger wells up inside me. Anger with myself. For what I’ve done.

Then I snap.

I sprint to the still active boiler room with one goal. I reach the water heating tank, climb the ladder and throw the latch, swinging the door open. I look down at the steam and feel it burning my face. I sniffle and let one tear stream down my cheek with a deep breath.

“I’m sorry….” I say once more. Then I jump in.