Hehe. He looked around the room... White, white, white. Tile. Paint. Metal. Bed. Cotton. Pillow. Sheets. SHEETS. Sheets. To be strangled. Hehe. Metal barred windows, white bars, dirty glass. Door, white, locked. Little corner with dirty toilet, covered by low white - wall and a cloth door, beige.
Bell rings. Baang. Baang. Baang. Baang. Baang. Ring. Dinner soon. The sheets, he grabbed them. Stretch them, move them, make them like a rope. Hehe. Doorknob clicks. Door creaks open, white door, metal doorknob, little metal window up top.
He grinned. So wide, that grin, with the teeth and the wrinkles and everything. The person, white cloth
"I'm sane, I tell you! Sane! S-A-N-E! Sane! Why are you putting me in here?! I'm sane!" Charles struggled against the nurses' arms. "Let me go!"
The nurses tossed him into the cell and slammed the door shut behind him. Charles began banging on the door and continued to do so even after he knew the nurses who had brought him there were long gone. Finally, he slumped against the door.
"But I'm not crazy..." he whimpered.
"Of course you aren't," a voice behind him said soberly. "Why else would you be here?"
Charles whipped around suddenly aware that he was not alone.
"Who are-" he began, but the woman sitting before him waved him silent.