She nodded quickly and her ponytail flopped behind her head.
I placed a few sheets of white paper in front of the child with a box of crayons.
"Okay, Olivia, draw the fairies for me." I watched her draw her imaginary friends. She took her time, humming an usual tune as she went about the task.
"What song is that?" I asked.
"The fairies taught me to sing it," she said, and immediatley went back to humming and drawing. I wrote a few notes. The melody she droned became haunting. I was glad when she stopped and handed me the paper. She leaned over the table closer to my side, pointing out the details proudly.
"These are their wings. Some fairies have big wings, some have small wings, but they all have black eyes and those pointy teeth and claws." The child widened her mouth like a smile and gritted her teeth together, then raised her small hands and curled her fingers, pretending they were claws.
"Oh, and they don't like cats," Olivia said, "I have to keep Peepers out of my room or they will get her."
She sketched them with care. Her fairies resembled butterflies with monsterous heads. I was almost certain now some kind of abuse had been taking place in the home. Whether it was molestation, beatings, or both, I wasn't sure. But something had gone on inside that house to warp this littl girl's mind.
"Are you going to give me a needle now?" she asked, tilting her head.
"No, Olivia, I'm not that kind of doctor. I'm a doctor that likes to talk so I can learn more about you."
She lost interest halfway through my sentence. She took another crayon and began to draw. I asked the child if her mommy or daddy had ever hurt her, or in any way made her feel uncomfortable. She recalled one spanking she received for eating chipped paint off the wall after she was warned not to do it again. When my session with Olivia was over, I called the DA's office and requested access to her home.
I was escorted by a police officer to the picture perfect, suburban neighborhood. Yellow police tape surrounded the modern home with the manicured lawn. The inside was just as lovely. It wasn't until I went upstairs that the tone of the home began to change. The bedroom door at the top of the stairs was open. A dark red stain on the otherwise clean carpet interrupted apparent tranqulity.