My feet bounced as I waited in the dimly lit examination room. The dark curtains blocked out any hints of sunlight, the only light source being the single fluorescent lamp standing in the center of the room. The wrinkled leather chair was colored a faded brown (more like in between orange and mustard; I wasn’t too sure), and the chair squeaked as I shifted my seating, creasing in the same aged folds. Outside, it was raining drearily, the raindrops pittering and pattering against the roof. I wanted to go home now, but I knew I couldn’t. My head had been pounding for days and felt heavy as a rock. Something was throbbing inside my head; I could feel my forehead and the bags under my eyes tighten as I tried to sit upright. The doorknob rattled, breaking the long silence, and I saw the Doctor enter, barely glancing at me as she sat on a short, spinny chair with a deflated top. The Doctor tightened her sandy ponytail, pushed up her thick, dark, rounded glasses, and drew out her scratched, tan clipboard. “How are you today?” she asked, her head facing the other way while she scoured through the worn drawers and pulled out a pair of oft-white gloves.

I replied with my instantaneous and programmed response of “I’m fine” and ended with my signature smile, my body straight and still. The Doctor paused, turning her head to the side as if she was listening carefully before swiveling abruptly. I blinked. She blinked. I frowned at her peculiar, piercing stare. “I mean, my head hurts a little,” I added. The Doctor swiftly rose, grabbed the lamp, and shined it on my face. Surprisingly, I didn’t flinch at the blinding light, but the intense heat penetrated my face. My skin screamed in agony as the individual muscles loosened and melted into mushy clumps, dropping onto the dusty floor with a satisfying splat. The weight of my face grew lighter and lighter, and I clenched my fists at the sizzling burns.

“Just as I thought,” the Doctor remarked with a sigh. She retrieved a facial mirror from the drawers and handed it to me. I gasped and almost dropped the mirror in shock. My face was a void filled with small, slimy tapeworms crawling and squirming over one another. The worms jabbered and fought with each other; their tiny voices rang in my ears. I dared not to touch the churning pot of muck, and my arms froze in horror. Like a magician, the Doctor produced a pair of tweezers from the cuffs of her sleeves and delicately plucked the worms from my face. She dropped the unwanted chatterboxes on a metal plate before crushing them to their inevitable deaths. I closed my eyes and grimaced at their last cries.

Plop. 
She must hate me. 
Crush. 
Silence.

Plop. 
Am I good enough? 
Crush. 
Silence.

Plop. 
No one would care if I had disappeared. 
Crush. 
Silence.

The Doctor did not even repulse, did not even wrinkle her nose in disgust as she plucked—it was almost as if she had been cleaning worms from people’s faces all her life. And so, the Doctor tidied my face and repeated this cycle of plop, cry, crush, silence for what seemed like an eternity. I finally opened my eyes when I no longer heard the tapeworms. The Doctor handed me the mirror again, and I sighed in relief. My face was just a dark, empty hole. I raised my hand and attempted to touch the gap, grasping nothing but sheer air. Moving my head felt odd, as my head already felt light as a feather.

“You should be able to rest easy tonight,” the Doctor said. “Those gibbering worms are long gone now, and you won’t have to hear their insults anymore.” I nodded. 

“What about my face?” I asked. 

“Oh, your face? Don’t worry about it. In time, you’ll grow a new one—a natural one this time,” the Doctor chuckled and grinned. It was the first time I had seen her smile. 

I gazed at the mirror again, hunching over to analyze my face. It was strange to feel empty; I was so used to feeling bombarded. My head no longer felt packed and ached; the strain along my skull eased. A feeling of solace washed over me like the peace one would receive when a cacophony subdued. No more squirming, crawling, churning. No more yaps, cries, and shrieks inside. No more fear, anger, hopelessness. A calm ocean, a quiet forest, a silent mountain filled inside me. The past no longer haunted me; instead, I could now move forward—I was free.