“Do you want to talk about what goes into the bag, Melissa?”

She closed her eyes and kept rocking. Trembled and hugged herself. A tear rolled down her cheek.

I patted her again, got a tissue, and wiped her eyes, half expecting her to pull away. But she allowed me to dab the tears.

Dramatic first session, movie-of-the-week perfect. But too much, too fast; it could jeopardize the therapy. I dabbed some more, searching for some way to slow it down.

She killed that notion with a single word:

“Kids.”

“The burglar puts kids in the sack?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So the burglar is really a kidnapper.”

She opened her eyes, stood up, faced me, and held up her hands as if praying. “He’s a murderer!” she cried, emphasizing each word with a shake. “A Mikoksi with acid!”

“A Mikoksi?”

“A Mikoksi with acidthatmeanspoison! Burning poison! Mikoksi threw it on her and he’s going to come back and burn her again, and me, too!”

“Who did he throw poison on, Melissa?”

“Mother! And now he’s going to come back!”

“Where is this Mikoksi now?”

“In jail, but he’s going to get out and hurt us again!”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he doesn’t like us. He liked Mother but then he stopped liking her and he threw poison acid on her and tried to kill her but it only burned her on the face and she was still beautiful and could get married and have me!”

She began pacing the office, holding her temples, stooped and muttering like a little old woman.

“When did all this happen, Melissa?”

“Before I was born.” Rocking, face to the wall.

“Did Jacob tell you about it?”

Nod.

“Did your mother talk to you about it, too?”

Hesitation. Shake of head. “She doesn’t like to.”

“Why’s that?”

“It makes her sad. She used to be happy and beautiful. People took pictures of her. Then Mikoksi burned her face and she had to have operations.”