“Oh, everyone just thought you were crazy,” the intake nurse winked at me as she tightened the cinches on my straight jacket.
“I had to use the restroom,” I said, “Real bad.”
“That’s what got you into this mess,” the nurse said, “no pun intended. One can’t just indiscriminately… well, you know. People jump to conclusions.”
My shoelaces peeked out of her pocket, and certainly my necklace was in that same pocket. I could feel the slimy coldness of drool sliding down my chin and I wondered why she didn’t dab at it with the handy towel she kept tucked into her belt for just such occasions. Hers was lightning white, smooth, clearly never used. Why wasn’t that a red flag for someone? Who was in charge?
“Did you give me something?” I asked, “I don’t usually drool like this.” I hoped my hint would get her to wipe my face, my own arms being unavailable and all.
“…nurse?” I said.
She seemed to be struggling with an uncooperative clasp, but it was awfully convenient she had an excuse to ignore me.
“Did you drug me?” I asked, raising my voice.
“We gave you an anti-diarrhea… there.” She had finally gotten whatever piece of my contraption stymied her. The room teetered back and forth.
“My necklace,” I managed, “It was a gift.”
“A gift? How thoughtful of you. I’ll keep it always,” she patted her pocket, and I noticed her smile turned wicked. A wave of horrible understanding crashed over me.
“When can I go home?”
“When you can use the bathroom like a big girl… and when everybody agrees you’re not crazy.” She winked. Or was that a nervous tic?
“All I did was use the men’s room. It was vacant.”
“Yes, well. You’re not a man, are you?”
*This was an entry for Cracked Flash Fiction’s weekly contest. They provide a first sentence and you run with it for up to 300 words.