My recurring nightmare.
She looks down into her hands, and sees her bottom jaw. Her entire jaw has fallen off, and rests quietly in the palms of her shaking hands. Teeth form a sparkling row, laced with blood and saliva, menstruating pearls. She runs, and so does the blood: down her fingers, along her scars, collecting in the crease of her elbow. The bloody mess pours from her mouth, dribbling down her neck, agglomerating on her chest. Sometimes only one tooth is missing. She holds it in her hand, grabbing at it like a precious stone, running around manically, asking everyone she sees to help her put it back in place. But noone ever does. Nobody ever helps, not even the dentist which magically appears at the height of every terror. She remains toothless and ugly and cries and cries and cries.