For around two years now, I've worked as a low-rent security guard at St. Daniel's

Mental Hospital facility in our town.

It's classified as a medium-high-level security and contains forensic units, where patients

are held who have committed crimes, some sort, and been declared innocent by a reason of sanity.

I don't get many details about the history or crimes of the patients, except for nurses

who mentioned something in passing.

In a law after a code-whiter in the cafeteria, someone would let something slip.

The one who acts like a dog and howls drinks from toilets during full moons, he killed his

little sister and his friends.

Watch out for that one.

He's unpredictable.

He's in here for strangling someone on the city bus.

We're pretty sure he's bringing in crack from the outside and selling it.

I might pick up all kinds of tidbits.

I was on a first-name basis and had a friendly rapport built up with one patient and him

Sam.

So a nurse let it slip that he was a child molester.

Serial child molester.

I couldn't look him in the eye after hearing that.

Although I never knew for sure if it was actually true.

I mean, he was a small chubby toe of a man, goofy smile, curmin' the frog voice.

I thought he looked harmless enough until I pictured him standing over a child in a dark

...