Content Trigger Warning: This story contains narratives on gender-based violence and harassment.

Before me lies a glossy brochure, smiling with deceitful molars, promising “Better Oral Health Starts Today.” But what does a pamphlet know of suffering?

What does it know of the nightly grind of regret against my enamel? The slow, silent withdrawal of gums, and the minty taste of innocent things once loved?

I flip the page within me. Better Health Channel says it is perfectly normal for a child to lose their first tooth up to 2 years earlier or later than 6 years of age. Girls generally lose teeth earlier than boys.

My tooth fairy said I was 5 years of age when my very first tooth fell. Four were one-year-olds. And I’m pretty sure you’ve heard about them collecting your baby teeth in exchange for money.

Not applicable to adults. The tooth fairy was just for kids. And boy, oh boy, I was counting the days until my tooth fairy came back again for more!

Every time my tooth fairy comes to collect my teeth, I would gladly give it one, maybe two when the fairy would ask for more. 

Sometimes, my fairy would even share a piece of candy with me. It was delicious. I liked it.

But I would soon fall for cavities, and teeth wouldn’t “heal” like bones. If a permanent tooth is damaged, it won’t regrow.

And it didn’t.

It went missing one by one. I wasn’t happy anymore. My tooth fairy would still visit and come to collect my teeth, give me money, and eat candies with me.

One day, my tooth just started aching. It was painful and I didn’t know what to do! Gee, it hurt so much I had to call mommy for help.

“Sweetie, you need to go to the dentist,” said mommy in a worried tone. First thing in the morning, and that’s what we totally did.

“Open wide,” said the dentist, and I was obedient.

When we went back home, mommy was crying. I felt bad for making her cry, so I told my fairy I don’t want to give away my teeth anymore. My tooth fairy agreed.

I thought it was over, and that my fairy wouldn’t visit me anymore. It made me sad, but also relieved that I wouldn’t have to lose so many teeth, even if I missed the money the fairy would give me.

But the next day, the fairy came back again. I was happy to see it. I thought I wouldn’t see my fairy anymore. So, I asked if it could stay, and the fairy answered,

“Only if you give me one of your teeth, little one.”

I resisted. I don’t want to make mommy cry again. So, I said no.

But the tooth fairy didn’t listen.

It pressed me into the mattress, held my jaw open like it owned me. I tried to fight, I really did. But it was stronger, and it knew where to hold. Knew how to make me still.

One by one, it took them. My teeth. Tugged them slow, deliberate, like it was savoring every snap and tear. I bled down my neck. I choked on it.

Cried, begged, but nothing came out but gurgled silence.

And it smiled. It liked the way I trembled. The way I couldn’t scream.

I stopped fighting. I let it have me. Let it dig into me. I even left more teeth under the pillow. That’s what it wanted. That’s what made it stop.

After that, I was just something hollow. And it still comes back, prying my mouth open, just to be sure.

Editor’s Note: To report incidents of sexual harassment, you may report incidents through appropriate channels for immediate and proper handling: Office of Student Affairs  ([email protected]), SAMAHAN Central Board  ([email protected]), Human Resource Management and Development Office ([email protected]), Committee on Decorum and Investigation ([email protected]), and AdDU Committee on Gender and Development ([email protected]).