Cynthia followed along quietly, starting to feel more and more nervous as they walked along.  It felt strange and a bit worrying; she knew she should be so relieved and happy that someone would be able to truly help her or be able to prove outright that she wasn't at all crazy.  Perhaps it was as simple as that she didn't know what to expect; everything was so new and strange to her.<br/><br/>Once she got inside, she looked over everything with some confusion.  She expected some sort of medicine or...as she thought about it, she didn't really know what to expect, but in her naivete, she didn't recognize anything that was already displayed.  Pressure points, perhaps?  She didn't know, but trepidation kept her mouth shut.<br/><br/>It was only when the orderlies started shoving her arms in, a bit roughly than she wanted but without fighting on her part, when she noticed the change in the straitjacket.  She'd expected it to be like the movies, a full jacket with the arms, rather than just the arms and little else.  Thankfully her shirt was still on, or else she'd have been exposed.  Still, the thought felt rather silly moments after having it; why wouldn't her clothes stay on?<br/><br/>Once she was buckled in and on the table, she finally worked up the courage to ask, "What exactly is part of the treatment?  It's not going to hurt or anything, is it?"  She didn't handle pain very well and obviously didn't like it, although she would force herself through a little pain if it was absolutely necessary.