Things were finally looking for me when I got assigned to an important project, all thanks to Whisper. The demon spoke for me at the monthly staff meeting with such eloquence that it surprised the director and even earned some nods of acknowledgement from my colleagues.

Cara wasn’t impressed at all, however. She fired questions at me like knives, trying to find holes in my presentation. But Whisper deftly deflected each one with the skill of a fencing master, which only seemed to infuriate her more. She stormed out without waiting for the director’s dismissal.

Cara wasn’t the only one who had a keen interest in me. Steve had been showing a lot of interest in me lately. He'd been asking for my advice and thoughts on things more often than before. And just yesterday, he surprised me by asking if I wanted to grab dinner together this weekend.

Dinner? Oh, I knew what he really wanted. He wanted to pick my brain for more ideas and take credit for them himself.

“No, I prefer dinner at home,” I said.

“Oh, well, we could get takeout and bring—”

“Alone, I mean.”

“Okay, well, I guess another time then.”

Although things were looking up, the pain in my mouth was getting worse as Whisper settled in. When I checked myself out in the bathroom mirror, I noticed that two of my molars had blackened and cracked. Whisper was snuggled right between them, humming away as it brewed something sinister.

“You have to stop,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because whatever it is that you’re doing, you’re hurting me.”

“Me? I’ve done nothing but good things for you, and all I ask is for a place to call my home.”

The stabbing pain made me tear up. I couldn’t deal with it any longer, even chewing food as soft as jelly hurt. So, I went to the dentist. Hot Smile. He was the only one I could trust.

I had never liked going to the dentist. The sterile walls and the way they seemed to close in on me always left me gasping for air. The ear-piercing whine of the drill unnerved me, and the dentist’s scrutinizing gaze, so close to my face, paralyzed me.

But with Hot Smile, the experience was different. He made sure I was comfortable in the chair. His warm, friendly eyes lit up when I walked in, and his charming grin made me forget all about the toothache for a second. As his assistant got ready with the instruments, I chatted with Hot Smile about work and all the recent success I’d been having. I would’ve been on cloud nine if it weren’t for that damn throbbing in my molars.

He nodded. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here.” He slipped on a pair of surgical gloves and picked up his tools.

The room grew warmer.

He leaned in close to examine my mouth with a sickle probe and mirror, but he was gentle and careful. As he worked, the temperature in the room seemed to rise. Suddenly, he stepped back and pulled down his mask, taking a deep breath. His once-friendly expression turned into one of disgust. His assistant’s face had also turned pale.

Then, Cara’s voice screeched inside my head. Oh, God, your breath!

My heart sank, and I felt like I was going to throw up. The walls seemed to be caving in on me. The blinding light from the fluorescent bulb overhead made me feel like I was standing under a spotlight. I couldn’t take it anymore, and I jumped out of the chair. My legs wobbled as I stumbled my way to the bathroom. I slammed the door shut and locked it behind me.

How could I face him now, or anyone else for that matter? I bet he was telling everyone out there, making fun of me and my decaying teeth. The thought of it made my stomach turn.

I stared at myself in the mirror, dreading what I might see. When I opened my mouth, I was greeted by the sight of Whisper’s red eyes glaring back at me from the back of my throat. The molar was still rotting, emitting a smell that made me want to gag. At that moment, I wished I could shrink down to the size of a cockroach and disappear into a crack in the wall forever.

“Why did you have to do that?” I cried.

Whisper growled. “You were trying to get rid of me!”

“That’s because you're destroying my teeth! It hurts!”

“It won’t be long before we’ll be together as one.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“There's nothing to worry about! Soon the pain will go away, and you’ll see how much you need me in your life.”

Before I could ask him any more questions, there was a knock on the door. “Hey, Dr. Rameriz wants to check if you’re alright.” It was the receptionist. She was always nice to the patients and her voice genuinely sounded worried.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Do you want to continue, or do you want to reschedule an appointment?”

My hands were tightly holding onto the sink, my heart beating fast in my chest. I was at a loss for what to do or say. I just wanted the receptionist to go away and leave me alone. I needed more time to think. But then, Whisper had an idea. I felt a tick in my throat, and my jaw muscles relaxed as my lips began to move.

“I don’t want to reschedule,” I blurted out. It was all Whisper’s doing. I bit my lip hard, drawing a bit of blood.

“Okay, let me inform Dr. Ramirez.” She sounded relieved.

Moments later, I found myself back in the dental chair. The walk from the restroom to the dentist's room was a blur. I avoided making eye contact with Hot Smile and the assistant. Hot Smile asked if I had tried the new restaurant around the corner from his office.

I mumbled a reply. "No, why do you ask?"

“Because I had their garlic soup, and it made my breath smell like a field of moldy garlic for hours." He chuckled, but he shut up when I dared to look him straight in the eye. Clearing his throat, he said, "Okay, let’s take another look.”

He made sure his mask and plastic eyewear were securely in place before he leaned in to look into my mouth. I watched as he took a deep breath, like a free diver getting ready to dive deep into the ocean. The assistant stood by my side, adjusting the overhead light to get the best angle. Even he seemed to be preparing for what was to come.

“You said you had pain on the right side, correct?” Hot Smile asked.

I nodded.

“I don’t see anything, though. The tooth seems fine. Hmm…”

The sickle probe scraped against a groove, and a sharp pain shot throughout my jaw.

“Did that hurt?”

Saliva started to build up, and it dribbled over the side of my lip. My tongue brushed over his gloved fingers. It was flavored. Strawberry. That must be his favorite fruit. Coincidentally, it was mine, too.

He scooted away on his stool, pulled off the gloves, and tossed them into the bin. His face turned red, and I realized then that I had licked his fingers more than once. But he said nothing of it. He ended the uncomfortable silence by instructing his assistant to lead me to the x-ray room. After five minutes, I was back in the chair, anticipating Hot Smile’s analysis of the x-ray results.

“Not a cavity,” he said, showing me the pictures. “But we’ll keep an eye on it and check again when you come in for your regular cleaning next month.”

“Do you want to have dinner with me?”

I didn’t say it. It wasn’t me.

Hot Smile arched an eyebrow. “What?”

“I mean, dinner with me,” I repeated, feeling embarrassed.

Fuck you, Whisper.

Hot Smile gave me an apologetic smile, his puppy eyes filled with sympathy. “Oh, I’m flattered, but I’d have to decline.”

“Married?”

“Uh, no, no, I—uh—I stick to a policy of keeping my personal and professional lives separate. And…”

“So, you don’t fool around with clients.”

“Sorry, I don’t. It’s–”

“It’s just dinner; dessert isn’t guaranteed unless you want to order it.”

Whisper! Oh, God! That puny demon had a firm hold of my vocal cords and was yanking them like a puppet master. I tried to keep my mouth closed, but Whisper was stronger. He pried it open, and then let out a stinky cloud that made me turn away and burp loudly, filling the whole room with the smell of garlic.

I was so shocked that I couldn’t even think straight. I just bolted out of that chair and ran down the hall without saying a word. When I passed by the front desk, the receptionist asked me when I would like to make my next appointment, but I didn’t even stop to answer. I dashed out of the office, got into my car, and screamed.

***

There was one thing that made me forget about the embarrassing dentist visit: I got promoted to project supervisor. Seeing the look on Cara’s face was pure joy. But the throbbing pain in my tooth persisted. Whisper reassured me that it’d be over soon, that we would soon be united, and I wouldn’t feel the pain ever again.

After his persistence, I finally caved in and agreed to have dinner with Steve to celebrate my promotion. I agreed only if we went to the restaurant of my choice, and he was fine with that.

But Cara overheard and felt the need to put in her two cents about where to eat in the city. When I mentioned my choice, she wrinkled her nose and said it was a terrible idea. Whatever, I wasn’t about to change my mind. I had a sudden craving for something garlicky, and I knew just the spot.

The restaurant wasn’t fancy, but Steve had gone home to change out of his polo shirt and khakis. When we met up, he was in more formal attire—a pale blue dress shirt and black dress pants. Meanwhile, I was still in my work clothes, which Cara once likened to a countryside librarian. But why bother changing? It was a friendly dinner, not a date.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

We sat down at a cozy corner table. I went for the garlic soup with a side of salad, and so did Steve. He savored the soup with loud slurps and the occasional spoon suck. It was clear that he was enjoying it a little too much.

“How’d you find out about this place? Have you been here before?” he asked.

“This is my first time. It’s not too far from my dentist's office. He recommended this place.”

“Who did?”

“My dentist.”

“Your dentist? Are you two particularly close?”

“It’s difficult to say.”

“I see. Well, I also have a complicated relationship with my dentist. She calls me every six months. I go to her and let her probe around in my mouth.”

He laughed so hard he was clutching his sides like they hurt. But to me, his laughter was more like a painful squawk of a chicken getting stepped on. Other diners looked over, raising their eyebrows and getting annoyed at the sudden outburst. Steve seemed not to notice, maybe he didn’t care at all.

Whisper groaned. “Oh, dear God, Marcy, why did you ever agree to this date?”

“Not a date,” I muttered.

Steve cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing… hahaha! I was thinking that what you said about your relationship with your dentist was funny.”

Our main course finally arrived. Thank goodness, because I didn’t have much to say, and there weren't enough trivial topics to fill the awkward silence. We started to stuff our faces with grilled fish, artichoke caponata, sun-dried tomatoes, and slices of a thin crust arugula pizza. But then, a familiar face across the room caught my eye, and my heart skipped a beat.

He was here… Hot Smile. And he—my heart sank to my gut—was with another woman. All I could see was the back of her head, but I knew exactly who it was. I saw her every day. The sight of them together made me feel sick.

Steve turned his head to see who I was looking at. "Look who’s here! Cara!" he called out, waving at them.

Cara turned around, saw us, and smirked before waving back.

“Let’s have a quick chat with them, yeah?” he said.

“No, I’m sure they want to have the evening to themselves.”

“Oh, come on, it’ll be a quick chat.”

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me over to their table. Steve was grinning and still holding onto my wrist, while I was staring back and forth between Hot Smile’s reddening cheeks and Cara’s smug expression. As Steve and Cara chatted, I noticed that Hot Smile’s eyes were avoiding mine. This broke something inside me and also ignited a rage that I had never experienced before.

Whisper was thrilled. The demon rubbed against my gums, swirled between my teeth, and slithered under and over my tongue, giving me a delightful tingling sensation. Its excitement hummed through me, and it pulled my lips into a wide grin.

Then, in the middle of their boring small talk, Whisper blurted out, "How do you and Dr. Ramirez know each other?"

“Uh…” uttered Hot Smile.

Cara giggled. “Oh, it’s a funny story. I go to his office for my dental checkups, and last week he asked me out while cleaning my teeth, and I couldn’t quite answer because—”

“He’s also my dentist,” I said, “and he told me that he sticks to a policy of not dating patients.”

“Is he the dentist you were talking about?” Steve pointed at him with a thumb.

“Doesn’t matter. Cara, I thought you said this restaurant served dishes of hot garbage for poor, dirty people.”

“I never said that!” She glanced over nervously at Hot Smile.

“I believe your exact words were," then with perfect intonation, Whisper imitated Cara’s voice, "Ew, Marcy, your restaurant pick is terrible. You’ve no experience in fine dining. Has anyone ever taken you to a decent restaurant that doesn’t serve hot garbage to poor, dirty people?”

“I…”

Hot Smile frowned at her. “You told me you liked this place.”

Steve scratched his head and stepped back. “We should get back to our table. Our food must be getting cold,” he said before dropping my wrist.

We went back to our table without saying another word. The silence between us was broken by the sound of teeth crunching into the thin, crispy crust of the arugula pizza. Then, a sharp pain shot through my jaw, blinding me. My eyes began to water as I spat out small black and brown bone fragments and specks of blood onto my plate.

It was pieces of the decayed molar.

My tongue found a hole where my tooth used to be. There was something else growing there, rough and jagged and sharp. And then, to my utter horror, another tooth crumbled and pieces of it fell onto the plate.

Steve’s eyes grew wide as he stared at the broken pieces of teeth and then back at me. He quickly grabbed a napkin and held it to his mouth, trying to keep the food he ate in.

“Should I call over the dentist?” he managed to say.

“I — I —” I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move my tongue without it throbbing.

Steve’s face paled. “What’s wrong with your tongue? Are those canker sores?”

I hurried to the restroom, nearly knocking over a waiter carrying a tray. The tray toppled, and spaghetti and soup splattered onto another couple. I ignored their shouts of outrage and rushed into the ladies’ room.

I went over to the sink, and one by one, my teeth fell out, clattering into the basin. The sink was a bloody mess. I scooped up the teeth and stuffed them into my pocket, then tried to rinse away the blood, though more kept dribbling out.

I inspected my mouth in the mirror. Hundreds of small, jagged teeth were poking out from the bloody holes where my old teeth had been. And where my tongue should have been, there was Whisper, looking like a slimy, yellowish-green slug. It had these two antennas sticking out and its pair of beady crimson eyes stared right through me.

Whisper was more than just a demon. It was a parasite! And its appetite was growing for something more than just pizza. The pain in my stomach was excruciating, and I felt like I was losing my mind. I had never known such incredible hunger. I craved what Whisper craved: raw meat.

***

As the elevator doors prepared to open, Cara took a deep breath and plastered a fake smile on her face—something she did every morning. However, today it was harder than usual to put on a cheerful demeanor.

Her date last night had been a complete disaster, all because of that weirdo Marcy, the last person Cara wanted to see. Nevertheless, she knew she had to keep a professional façade and endure eight agonizing hours working alongside the oddball. Cara felt overwhelmed by the thought, and it made her nervous.

She took another deep breath and finally, the elevator reached the fourth floor. Its doors opened, and she stepped out. Although a tense knot formed in the pit of her stomach, she greeted her colleagues in her bubbly tone, “Good morning!”

After reaching her desk, she glanced over at the next cubicle. Marcy was sitting there, hunched over the keyboard, with her long black hair tangled and covering face. She wasn’t typing anything, and her computer wasn’t even turned on.

Cara noticed that Steve hadn’t arrived yet, which was unusual since she couldn’t recall him ever being late before. Most of the time, he came in early.

“I guess you and Steve had a nice time after dinner,” she said, thinking that would be the reason her colleague hadn’t shown up. It wasn’t fair, she wanted to scream. It wasn’t fair that Steve and Marcy had a good time, while her own date ended right after dinner.

“You must’ve shown him a good time last night and didn’t bother to wash your hair," Cara went on even when Marcy wasn’t responding. “Oh, so you’re not going to talk now? What you said last night was so rude, and —”

Before she could finish her sentence, the secretary interrupted her and informed her that Steve wouldn’t be coming to work. Now, the responsibility of handling Steve’s clients and paperwork fell on Cara and Marcy’s shoulders. Cara quickly asked if Steve was going to be absent for just the day or for the whole week, and what the reason was for his absence.

Cara got no response from the secretary, who only repeated the new tasks for her and Marcy before leaving. Annoyed, Cara figured she needed some food to get her going. In the break room, some coworkers had congregated at a table and seemed to be having a solemn conversation. As she scanned the vending machine for snacks, Cara eavesdropped on their chat.

“Don’t you live in the same apartment complex as him?”

“Yeah, down the hall from him.”

“So, what happened?”

“Last night I heard this crazy screaming, like someone was being attacked. I bolted out of bed and went into the hallway. Everyone else was there too, all in their pajamas. We were all scared shitless! Then one of the neighbors called the cops, but they were slow in getting there, and the screams kept going. So, another neighbor, an ex-fireman, broke the door down. By that time, the screaming had stopped.”

Cara decided to treat herself to some potato chips, so she inserted coins one by one into the vending machine.

“I smelled something really bad in that apartment. It was so strong and disgusting that I thought a sewage pipe had burst.”

“Did you go in? Did you see anything?”

“One neighbor called the cops, but they took forever to get there. Eventually, one of my neighbors, an ex-fireman, broke down the door. He went in there for a second before running back out and puking his guts out. He yelled for someone to call 911, and the police and ambulance eventually showed up.”

“Is Steve dead?”

“No, he’s alive but I’m sure he wishes he was.”

“Why would you say that?”

“They said—”

Cara lifted the plastic flap at the bottom of the machine and reached inside to grab the bag. She ripped it open and started munching on the salty crisps.

“He didn’t have a face, man. Like, the skin and stuff was just all gone. And his jaw was completely ripped off. But he still had one eye, and it was blinking. That’s how the paramedics knew he was alive, barely hanging on.”

“So, you didn’t see him?”

“No, I ran back inside. But I could smell him when the paramedics passed by. It pierced right through the walls. It was awful! The unimaginable smell of death.”

“Oh, God, poor Steve.”

Cara’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped as she turned to them. “Steve? Are you talking about Steve from our department?”

“Yeah,” said the one who’d been telling the story. “Didn’t you hear? He won’t be coming back to work.”

“Was he with anyone when it happened?”

“Not that I know of. I heard that his living room window was open, though.”

Cara left the break room and headed back to her desk. She was determined to ask Marcy if she knew anything about what had happened to Steve. However, when she got to her desk, Marcy was nowhere to be found.

“Do you know where she went?” she asked.

“I saw her heading for the restroom.”

Cara rushed down the hallway, her thoughts all over the place, unsure of what kind of response to expect from Marcy.

Evidence! She needed Marcy’s confession. She quickly took out her phone and hit the record button before heading into the restroom. As soon as she walked in, she saw Marcy at the sink.

Marcy was wearing a face mask and looking into the mirror, not doing anything to fix her hair or check her appearance.

“Hey, Marcy,” said Cara. “I heard something terrible happened to Steve. Do you know anything about that?”

No response.

“If you do, you can tell me. I can help you.”

In one smooth and slow motion, Marcy turned on the sink and pulled down the face mask to her chin. Her tongue, a pale green color, slithered out. It had the length and thickness of a python, forcing the jaw to stretch open beyond its limits.

Cara couldn’t move. She was too scared to even make a sound. She just watched as Marcy’s tongue slid towards the sink and drank water and retreated back into her mouth. Her jaw snapped back into place. Marcy turned to her and grinned, revealing a mouth full of rows of razor-sharp teeth.

“Steve wanted a kiss.” Her voice was deep and rough, like the crunching sound of metal.

“So, we gave him a kiss. How’s our breath now?”

Cara threw her arms over her head and felt a spray hit her face. The stinky smell in the air made her gag. Her arms felt like they were on fire as the skin started to melt away. The fat and muscles slipped off the bones as she screamed, but her voice was cut short when she accidentally inhaled some of the mist. It quickly dissolved her tongue and began to eat away at her gums and teeth.

Later, someone else came in, slipped, and rolled into a pile of gelatinous mush. The janitor was called in. He was sure the mush was vomit. He scooped up the chunks and flushed them down the toilet before starting to mop the floor.

Marcy was nowhere to be seen.

***

Today was a slow day at the dental clinic, and Dr. Ramirez was thinking about closing the office an hour early. He had already let his assistant go home early. As he was getting ready to leave, the receptionist told him that a patient had walked in without a scheduled appointment. When he found out that the patient was Marcy, he felt uneasy. He wished he had closed up the office way earlier.

“Please, take a seat,” he said, pointing to the patient chair.

Marcy just stood there by the door, not moving a muscle. She just stared at him, with her face mask on. Frustrated, he told her again to get in the chair.

“Are you hungry?” she asked. Her voice sounded strange to him, like two voices echoing in unison.

“No, I was thinking of going home and heading straight to bed. You know, it’s been a long and tiring day.”

“Let’s go out for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Sorry, I’ve plans tomorrow.”

“With Cara?”

He scoffed. “Is this your reason for coming here? To ask me out for dinner?”

She took a step forward.

He gulped and took one step back, bumping into the wheeled tray with the dental equipment. “If your being here isn’t about your dental hygiene, then it’s best that you leave.”

Marcy walked over to the chair and sat down, her eyes never leaving him. “There’s something I need you to see.”

“What is it?”

“My back tooth on the right side.”

“Okay, I can take a look at it.”

Ramirez quickly grabbed a pair of disposable gloves and picked up the periodontal probe. He noticed his hands were trembling. He regretted sending his assistant home early and wished he had someone there with him in the room.

“Okay, are you feeling any pain?” he asked.

“A little bit.”

He scooted the stool next to the patient's chair and adjusted the overhead light. “You’ll need to remove the mask and say ah.”

She pulled the mask down to her chin and parted her soft pink lips, moaning, “Ahhh…”

Ramirez gulped.

He couldn’t look away.