DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 20
𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾
𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵.
𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.
𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨
𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯
𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦
𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴
𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦
𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺
𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵
𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.
𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )
Karen's arms wrap around him, her
hands gentle on his back as she
whispers words of comfort, her
voice a balm to his frayed
nerves. "You're safe, baby,"
she says. "You're safe with me."
Plankton's sobs slow, his
body relaxing marginally in
her embrace. His antennae
still thrash, but with less
urgency, when Plankton's
main dentist comes in.
Dr. Musselman, Plankton's
main dentist, rushes into
the room, his eyes wide with
concern at the sight of his
patient's distress. Karen quickly
explains the situation, her voice
tight with emotion. "He's having
an autistic shutdown," she says,
her hand on Plankton's trembling
back. "He's sensitive to
sensory overload." He nods. "You can
come into my exam room, follow me."
The doctor's exam room is
dimmer, the air cooler, and the
smell less intense. The change
in atmosphere is like a gentle
caress against Plankton's overstimulated
sensors. He lets out a shaky
sigh, his antennae unfurling slightly.
Dr. Musselman's eyes are
kind, his voice a soothing
balm. "Hi, Plankton," he says, his
tone gentle. "Remember me?"
Plankton's gaze flickers to him,
his antennae stilling. "You're
my other dentist," he whispers, his
voice hoarse from the sobbing.
The doctor nods, his smile
reassuring. "That's right. I
know you don't like surprises,
so I'm sorry for that, for Jill. But
we're going to take it slow, okay?"
Plankton nods, his antennae
twitching slightly. "We need to
finish your cleaning," Karen says,
her voice gentle. "But we'll do
it with Dr. Musselman. He'll always
work here, and can be your dentist
instead of Jill from now on!"
"Okay," Dr. Musselman says,
his voice calm and measured.
"We're going to take some
x-rays now. It's quick and
painless." Plankton's antennae
perk up slightly at the
mention of painlessness. He
nods, his eye searching the
doctor's face for any sign of
deception.
The doctor leads them to a
small, enclosed space, the
whirring of the x-ray machine
a soothing constant. Karen
holds Plankton's hand, her grip
firm but gentle, as he sits
in the chair. The doctor
explains the process, his
words clear and concise. Plankton
nods, his breathing slowing
slightly as he tries to
comfort himself.
The x-ray machine's cold
metal touches his jaw, and
he jolts. "It's okay," Karen
whispers, her hand on his
shoulder. "It's just a little
picture of your teeth." Plankton's
eye closes, his antennae
stilling. He nods, his trust in
his wife a beacon in the
storm of his fear.
Dr. Musselman's movements are
careful, his voice calm. "Open
wide," he says. Plankton's
mouth opens slightly, his teeth
clenched. The x-ray film
slides into place, cold and
slightly sticky. He tastes the
metal, feels the pressure. But
it's not the same as the probe.
It's bearable.
The machine whirs to life, the
sensation of the x-rays a
gentle buzz against his
skin. His antennae quiver, but
he doesn't pull away. Karen's
hand squeezes his, a silent
promise of support. "Good job,"
she murmurs, her voice a warm
whisper in the cool air.
The doctor's voice is
steady. "Almost done," he says,
his eyes on the machine's
readout. Plankton nods, his
breaths shallow but even. The
fear has receded to a dull
throb, a distant echo of the
panic that had consumed him.
The x-ray machine clicks off,
the buzz of its operation
silenced. Dr. Musselman gently
removes the film, his
movements careful not to
startle Plankton. "Good boy,"
he says, his voice a warm
caress. Plankton's antennae
twitch in response, a tentative
sign of trust.