Child’s Play

Chapter One: Curious Case:

Black pumps echoed through the white halls. Their owner walked up to a guard standing at the glass doors. He lifted his hat as a woman in a fancy dress suit approached him.

“ID?” he asked. The woman reached into her black bag and pulled out her id card. The pudgy guard read the contents.

“Welcome Dr. Carta,” he said. “I take it you are here for the patient.”

“Correct,” she said. She noticed the terrified look in the guard’s eyes. “Is there something the matter?” The guard lowered his eyes.

“You heard how her last psychiatrist died, right?” he asked.

“I read the case file, yes,” Dr. Carta said.

“I only worry about your safety,” the guard continued in a hushed tone. “Nobody really wants to take this case. They are too scared. The fact that they called you all the way from Italy says something.”

“I have heard,” she said. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

“No, but I wish you luck,” the guard said.

“Thank you,” Dr. Carta said. The guard in brown turned and swiped his key in the slot. He stepped aside as the glass doors slid open. She bid him farewell and walked down the hall. The psychiatrist could feel his worried eyes on her back. As she walked down the hall, Dr. Carta went over her patient notes in her head.

Danielle Takahashi, age eight. She was admitted to Honolulu’s psychiatric ward earlier this year. The police were investigation why everyone around kept dying. The pervious psychiatrist noted that the child had been traumatized by all of the murders she had witnessed. Danielle wouldn’t eat or sleep. She kept mentioning this “he” figure. The pervious psychiatrist couldn’t squeeze anymore details out of the patient.

Dr. Carta had a few questions of her own. All of the victims didn’t have any visible injuries on their bodies, but their insides were like liquid mush. They were all found in large pools of blood. No signs of a break-in either. There was one witness in one of the murders, but they refused to come forward. She kept yelling at the police to get off of her property. It looked like Dr. Carta would have to get to the source of the problem herself.

The head of the facility, Dr. Pao, waited for her outside of Room 244.

“You made it,” he said. “I was starting to worry that you had dropped out at the last minute.”

“I left you a message on your voice mail,” Dr. Carta said. “The taxi cab had a minor break down on the way here.”

“I see, I see,” he said. She looked over his shoulder at the thick glass.

“Is the patient awake yet?” Dr. Carta asked. Dr. Pao pressed his lips together.

“Yes,” he said. “But I must warn you, please don’t upset her in any way. Dr. Hawn unwittingly did that and her family couldn’t even have the funeral with the casket open.”

“Thank you for the warning, I will keep that in mind,” Dr. Carta said. Dr. Pao turned to the door and punched in the code.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said, stepping away.

“Thank you,” the psychiatrist said. She peeked through the open door before slowly walking inside. The high-up open window was the only source of light in the room.

“Hello? Danielle?” Dr. Carta asked. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk. Could you please come out?” The psychiatrist sat down at the table and set down her notes. Best to wait until the patient came out of hiding. Dr. Carta looked around the room. There was almost nothing from what she could make out in the light. No drawings on the wall. No pictures of family. There wasn’t even a little teddy bear in the corner of the room. What kind of patient was this that there had to be nothing in the room? Dr. Carta pulled out her tape recorder from her bag and set it down on the table. It was then she heard a rustling noise.

“Danielle?” she whispered. “It’s okay, honey. I won’t hurt you. I just want to talk. You can come out whenever you’re ready.” Dr. Carta kept her eyes trained on the darkness as she noticed a little movement on the other side of the room. A small girl crawled out from the shadows. Her white pajamas hung off of her skinny frame while her hair looked like it hadn’t been combed in days. She had big, frightened eyes as she looked at the woman at the table staring at her.

“Hello, Danielle,” Dr. Carta said. “My name is Dr. Carta and I just want to talk to you. You can come and join me at the table if you want.” The child stared at her, trembling. Did she even understand the psychiatrist with her thick Italian accent? The patient kept her eyes lowered her eyes as she walked over to the table. Dr. Carta gave her little smile.

“Very good,” she said. No sudden movements. Just engage her long enough to get her comfort to talk. The psychiatrist rested her hands on the table.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Dr. Carta said. “My name is Dr. Fabia Carta. How are you doing today, Danielle?” The young patient’s eyes widened to the size of cake plates as the psychiatrist spoke. Something at her feet started to rumble.