Chapter Two: Danielle’s Origin:

There was no father in the picture.

Danielle was raised by her mother. Not much was known about the mother before she moved to Hawaii. Not many people asked her either. On the surface, she seemed nice. Rather aloof, but nice. Ms. Takahashi worked in a high-stress job. She worked nights as an event coordinator. Many at her place of work couldn’t understand how she kept her smile. Despite the good money she made, it didn’t make her life any easier. It showed with little Danielle.

Dr. Carta eyed the patient in her room.

“Tell me about your mommy,” she said.

Danielle stared at the table. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in days. When was the last time she had a bath? Dr. Carta shook those questions from her head.

“Take your time if you need to,” she said. The psychiatrist remembered that the child didn’t have any other known relatives. The facility tried to get in contact with them, but failed. Ms. Takahashi didn’t leave a number to contact in case of emergency. Some of the therapists thought that it was a family feud or something of that nature. They could only go by what her coworkers and neighbors guested about her.

Dr. Carta froze when she heard a murmur.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“Lavenders…” Danielle mumbled.

“Lavenders? Did your mother smell like lavenders?”

The patient didn’t speak. Dr. Carta remembered that Ms. Takahashi always wore some type of expensive perfume to work. Maybe it would be okay to change tactics for a bit.

"Okay, Danielle," Dr. Carta said. "I'll tell you a little bit about myself. I was born in Milan, Italy in the seventies. My parents were divorced when I was only a baby. My mother lived in Rome. I only got to see her in the summer."

Danielle kept her eyes to herself. Dr. Carta paced herself. She didn't want to drown the patient with stories of her personal life. That was her number one personal rule. Do not get too close to the patients. They could use everything that learn and use it to their advantage against the therapist. In this case, it would be fine as long as she didn't let Danielle in too much. Until she could gauge the child's real personality, it would be best to trend lightly.

"I lived with my father for most of my life," Dr. Carta picked up with. "I barely remember much about my mother, but she smelt like plums." She tried to picture her mother from the last time she saw her. The psychiatrist remembered a woman wearing a long white and purple dress with her long wavy brown hair dusting her shoulders.

"She always looked so happy in the pictures father had of her," Dr. Carta said. "Did your mom look so happy in pictures?"

"Yes," Danielle mumbled. It wasn't much, but they took the first step.

"What else can you tell me about your mom?"

"She liked pink."

The psychiatrist nodded. "Pink is such a nice color."

"Mmm."

Dr. Carta reached over to her tape recorder. "Do you mind if I turn this on?" The patient kept her eyes to the table as she muttered something inaudible.

"Just to let you know," Dr. Carta said. "If I do something to upset you, just let me know, okay?" Danielle didn't say anything. The psychiatrist pressed her lips together.

"Alright," she said. She reached over and hit record on her tape recorder. Dr. Carta decided to go back to when the murders began.