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.