I don’t like going to the doctor.
It always turns into more than it should.
The headache started three days ago.
Dull. Constant.
I’ve taken more Advil than I should. It doesn’t help.
Today, it’s worse.
It feels like my head will split.
So—
I caved.
3 p.m.
Dr. Sternbeck
I hate it. But I need it.
Brooke recommended Dr. Sternbeck.
She saw him last month for back pain.
When she left his clinic, she said she felt like a different person.
Fresh. Pain-free.
He gave her a pill. One week.
One follow-up.
Then he told her she was cured.
The pain hasn’t come back.
She says he’s a renowned pain specialist. The best in the city.
Any pain, she says,
he can cure.
Of course, I’m skeptical.
Any pain?
A week of pills and two visits?
Still, I’m desperate.
If Brooke trusts him, I’ll try it.
I stand outside Dr. Sternbeck’s practice.
Lux Street. Small sign. Tinted glass door.
Easy to miss.
I think about the cost. A month of groceries, probably.
But right now,
I’d pay anything to make this headache stop.
Inside, it’s dim.
Not the bright lights I expected.
The waiting room is empty.
No receptionist. Just a desk.
A small bell.
I ring it.
A door opens to the right.
A short man in a white coat steps out. Glasses. Thin smile.
“I’m Dr. Sternbeck.”
He shakes my hand. Leads me down the hall.
His office feels off.
Too empty. Too open.
He gestures toward the reclined chair in the center.
I sit.
And start explaining the headache.
I feel like I’m rambling.
The more I talk, the worse the headache gets.
Dr. Sternbeck moves behind me.
Every so often—
an “uh-hm,” a question.
Then he steps into view with a tray.
A syringe. A vial.
He says this isn’t a normal headache. Not a migraine.
Ashygor… something.
He draws a clear liquid into the syringe.
Says this will fix it.
Just a pinch. Like a vaccine.
His voice is calm. His eyes steady.
And right now, I just want relief.
I nod.
The next thing I know, I’m outside.
A plastic bag in my hand.
A bottle of pills.
A note. Instructions. A date and time for next week.
Then—
it hits me.
The headache. The pressure battering my skull. The constant hum.
Gone.
I grip the bag.
I smile for the first time in days.
My eyes sting.
Over the next week, I take the pills exactly as instructed.
One each night.
The headache doesn’t come back.
Now I’m standing outside the clinic again.
For the checkup.
Like last time, the waiting room is empty. No receptionist.
I know the drill now.
Dr. Sternbeck greets me. Leads me down the hall. His office. Same as before.
I tell him the pain is gone. Thank him.
He nods.
One more injection, he says. Then it’s gone for good.
I smile and offer my arm.
The next thing I know—
I’m not outside.
Not in his office. Not in the waiting room.
I’m lying down.
Naked.
Dark. Brick walls. Torches.
I try to move.
Chains.
A sound to my left—
I turn.
Dr. Sternbeck.
Black robe. Hood up. Face hidden.
“Finally,” he says.
“You’re the one we’ve been waiting for. The one he chose.”
I write weekly bite-sized horror vignettes.
You can find more of my work here, including exclusive expanded endings of my stories → https://rickshorrorflicks.substack.com/
(P.S. This story has a wild plot twist in my expanded complete version!)Discussion about this post
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