He’d always been a little, well, off.

That’s how friends, family and neighbors described Daniel Oddborn.

He wasn’t diagnosed with a mental disability, nor injured from fighting in any war. Hell, he’d never even enlisted in the military although he’d had more than a passing thought about doing so when in his twenties.

No, Daniel was just . . . different.

And on that late September day in Placerville, California, he decided he was on the edge of something . . . bad. What exactly did he feel?

“I feel like hurting someone,” he thought. “This time, it feels real.”

He knew himself well enough to know whenever those feelings began to take him over he needed to get away. Typically he went camping in a remote area, or took a long hike in the Sierras. But this wasn’t like any time he felt before. This time, it was different.

“Where is it?” he muttered, now becoming frantic.

Smart phones? He couldn’t imagine learning how to work one.

Electronic tablets and laptops were too small for Daniel. His big, clumsy fingers never could type in those little numbers and letters. Besides, he didn't have the patience for little screens and less for network connections

“What was that place called?” he thought silently.

Daniel had made a decision to check himself into a mental hospital on the far edge of town. He hadn’t driven or walked by it in a long time, but he remembered his father talking about the being a possibility to make Daniel “well,” many years ago.

It was an old brick building down a long, tree shrouded driveway, protected by a thick, wrought iron gate.

“Shit, what was that name?” He grew more impatience as he thumbed through a worn, old and tattered phone book, from . . . what was the year? Disgusted, he noticed it wasn't only outdated, but was from ten years ago.

Still, the hospital had been in existence before that, and the number would surely be listed.

“Probably when mom was alive,” he mumbled. "That's the last time anyone gave a damn about anything around here.

“M . . . Manor . . . there!” He shouted his discovery out loud, as if announcing to friends and family the joy he felt inside. Although . . . no one had lived in the decrepit old home he’d inherited for several years. Well, not since . . . he’d done what he’d done. “Manzanita Care Home!”

He thought he’d drop by unannounced, really play it up so they’d have to take him in. He knew homeless people who’d wandered down the dark road and let themselves be picked up for a night or two, get a hot meal, and then were released when it was found out nothing was wrong.

Grabbing his car keys and locking the front door, he started the car after several tries, and headed toward his destiny.

"I should leave the car hidden someone along the road," he thought to himself. "If they know I can drive I'll never get in." So almost a block from the black iron gate, he pulled off the road and begin walking. The sun was about to set.

"Damn this road is darker than I remembered." He said the words aloud, talking to himself, as if doing so made them real. It was as if an invisible friend walked alongside of him, both of them journeying toward the unknown.

When he came to the gate, he looked at the hospital. The lights inside made the place seem inviting and he was certain he'd get the care he needed.

"How do I get in there? No bell, No speaker . . . what do you think, Frank?" He laughed to himself, half expecting his invisible friend to answer.

Suddenly and it seemed from behind one of the brick columns that held the old rusted bolts of the gate, a man stepped out.

"Oh shites!" Daniel yelled. "You fucking scared the life out of me."

"I'm sorry, sir," the attractive young man, who seemed no more than twenty-five said. "Didn't mean to, just wanted to help."

"I need to check in," Daniel said. "I've got—"

"No need to explain," the young man said. "We stand ready and waiting . . . always."

Daniel felt a chill run through his back.

There was even the tiniest of voices that seemed to be screaming inside of him shouting, "run!" But Daniel ignored them and walked through the gate when it opened.

"Ted Gauges," the young man said extending his hand.

"Daniel," he said. When he shook Ted's hang he notice and ice cold feel to it, as if no blood circulated through him. "Shites, don't they turn the heat on in there? Your hand is freakin' ice!"

"They take care of us. We all take care of each other," Ted said. "And we'll take care of you. This way, Daniel."

Following Ted through the door, once inside the warm atmosphere soaked into his clothes.

"Yes," he thought. "This is just what I need. To be locked away from people, so I won't do anything bad."

"This is Daniel," Ted said, introducing him to someone who seemed to be in charge.

She was a burly woman in a nurse's uniform and hat, her blonde hair was wrapped tight and in a bun, with bobby pins throughout, keeping every hair in place. A grin fanned across her face.

Daniel was sure her eyes were black when she first looked at him, but after blinking once or twice, he saw they were brown.

"Nurse Nosmirc," she said. "That's n, o, s, m, I, r, c. Nosmirc."

"Thank you," Daniel said. "Where do I go?"

"Ted will set you up in a room and we'll get the paperwork done in the morning," she said. "You know what to do, don't you, Ted?"

"Yes, Nurse Nosmirc," Ted said. "Follow me Danny."

"That's Daniel," he said.

"Yep," Ted said.

The hallway they turned down had only one light.

"What happened to the lights in here?" Daniel asked.

When there was no response, Daniel turned to find there was no Ted. And as the sun dipped down and the last ray of light disappeared, long shadows began to creep down the hallway.