Medical play phone sex. The plastic chair in the waiting room was unyielding under my weight, the edges digging into my thighs as I shifted nervously. The air was thick with the sterile scent of disinfectant, and the walls were a shade of blue that was supposed to be calming but just made me feel cold. My mom sat next to me, flipping through a magazine with the enthusiasm of someone trying to distract themselves from a dentist appointment. She offered me a reassuring smile every few seconds, but it didn’t ease the knot in my stomach.

“You’re just getting a pap smear, Devon,” she said as if reciting the words would make it less intimidating. “It’s a normal part of growing up.”

I nodded, gripping the crumpled paperwork in my lap. “I know, Mom. It’s just…”

“It’s okay to be a little nervous,” she finished for me. “But Dr. Castillo is the best. You’re in good hands.”

Dr. Castillo was a tall man with a gentle smile and a voice that was soothing in a way that was almost too perfect for the situation. He went through the usual questions, his eyes scanning my chart as he nodded along to my answers. When he asked me to lie down on the exam table, I felt a shiver run down my spine despite the warmth of the room. I tried to focus on the poster of a serene beach scene on the ceiling as I put my feet in the cold stirrups.

He began the exam, his gloved hands cold against my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut. It was only when I felt something strange, something that didn’t feel quite right, that I opened them again. Dr. Castillo’s eyes met mine, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something unprofessional in his gaze. He quickly looked away, his fingers moving with a deliberateness that sent my heart racing. I realized with a jolt of horror that he wasn’t just examining me—he was playing with me, the medical tools an extension of his twisted curiosity.

As the minutes dragged on, his touch grew bolder. I told myself it was almost over, that I could handle it, that this was just a bad dream I would wake up from soon.

But when he finally pulled away, his demeanor was as calm as if he had just checked my temperature. “Everything looks good, Devon,” he said, his voice still as smooth as silk. “You can get dressed now.” I couldn’t bring myself to look at him as I slid off the table, my legs shaking. I gathered my clothes, feeling the fabric stick to my clammy skin. The exam room door clicked shut behind me, and I stepped into the sterile hallway, my world forever changed.

The rest of the day passed in a daze, the horror of what had happened playing on a loop in my mind. I tried to act normal, to laugh at my mom’s jokes and pretend everything was fine, but the effort was exhausting.