Cynthia (http://img3.imageshack.us/img3/8836/01rw.jpg) sat upon her bed, doing her best to wait ever so patiently until the alarms died down.  It hadn't taken as long as she'd expected, at least not compared to fire drills back at school, but her ears were still buzzing gently.  With a faint sigh, she moved back over towards the window, staring out through the glass between the bars once more.  She'd meant to ask the orderly for a book or something, but had simply forgotten amidst all the chaos.<br/><br/>It was the understimulation that was getting to her.  She thought she was smart, maybe not book-smart but good enough if she really focused and dedicated herself.  She'd never really understood being bored before, the idea that she had absolutely nothing to do and wasn't able to so much as leave her room.  She'd always been so careful never to get grounded, always being the good girl, or else quick to apologize at the very worst.<br/><br/>She hugged her legs in silence, trying to think.  People really didn't know how bad things were in a sanitarium.  Maybe it was dangerous to allow too much freedom and such, but that also had to just be making it harder for people to learn and grow as individuals.  She didn't want to say anything while she was here, she didn't want to make any waves, but when she got out she would have to write a letter or something.<br/><br/>After a while, she reached over to her hairbrush, once more running the brush through her delicate red strands.  She was pretty sure her hair looked completely fine; she'd been brushing it a lot lately since she didn't have much else to do, but not having a mirror she could look through just kept giving her that unknowable "what if?" question that it might be out of place.  She wanted to make sure that she looked perfect, that anyone else she met could know that she was completely sane, and surely that was worth a little bit more extra effort.<br/><br/>When that was done, she started to straighten out the white uniform she was wearing, even though there wasn't really anything she could do besides flatten out a few wrinkles.  The more time went by, the more she'd started to hate the garment.  She missed dresses, turtlenecks, short skirts, high heels, and even though she'd never really taken to baseball caps with ponytails, she'd far prefer much of anything to the same drab thing that everyone else was wearing.  Her parents had been excessively kind to send her to a school without school uniforms, and she'd signed the petition that one year that the principal had considered having them.  She supposed in some strange way it was part of her punishment for everything with the car, whether divine, karmic or whatever.<br/><br/>Hugging her legs to her chest once more, trying to just stop fidgeting since she knew it didn't make time seem to go by any faster, she just waited quietly and with as much patience as she could muster.