Paranaoia

The detectives could barely believe the carnage that met their eyes when they forced their way into the room. From the outside, it had seemed like an ordinary suburban house but inside, it was more like a slaughterhouse.

The detectives felt sure there was less blood in an abattoir than here. It was sprayed and splattered up the walls, across the once peach coloured carpet, over furniture. Strips of skin and flesh were strewn across every surface. A pair of eyes, no longer seeing, was like a macabre ornament to the glass topped coffee table that lay slightly to the left of the room.

There, in the center of all of this carnage, were two women. One lay, a pile of butchered meat, no longer recognizable as human. The other, straddled her body, bolt cutters at the ready, snapping open ribs, even now.

"Noooo!!" she screamed "Not yet. I know who you are. You're THEM. Five more minutes. Please. I'm so close."

"Put the fucking things down and move away." Roared the older detective, sickened by the sight. His eyes took in the collection of "tools", most matted in gore now, which lay beside her. Hacksaw, scalpel, butcher's knife, pliers and, some other items that he'd only seen before in his wife's kitchen gadgets drawer.

The girl started babbling, as though a story needed to be told - and now. The younger detective moved to restrain her and stifle her words but was cut short.

"Let her go. Get it off her chest." The detective looked uneasy. The last thing he wanted to do was stay in this blood soaked room with a mutilated corpse and a psycho bitch, listening to what he was sure would be some sob story about not getting the right fucking Barbie doll for her 8^th birthday. The usual "I had a bad childhood" bullshit. But, he recognized the authority in the older man's voice and stepped back.

"Why couldn't she just tell me where the fuck it was? All that pain, all that blood, would have been unnecessary" she began.

"I've got to hand it to THEM though, they certainly train their operatives or spies or whatever they call them, very well. Never once, has any one of them revealed where the device is concealed. I'm starting to wonder if part of the strategy is for their pawns not to know. A kind of, what they don't know, they can't give up, kind of deal. Or maybe, they figure by not telling me, it'll drive me crazy enough to give them something.

I almost hope they don't give away their secret though; this is beginning to be far too much fun. Besides, it's only fair isn't it? They're destroying me slowly, gaining all my personal details for their data banks, waiting until enough information is accumulated to take me down for good. I though it was a simple matter of locating the recording and transmitting devices that they conceal somewhere on their bodies. Now, though, I figure, for the sake of justice at least, it's my duty to take out some of them with me.

It's always easy to tell who they are, who you are" she amended staring at the detectives. "So I guess your training's not perfect after all. Too many questions. That's the key to identifying THEM. Why the hell would anybody want to know if I'd like fries with that? Why would some hairdresser bitch want to know if my hair cut is for a special occasion?" the detectives glanced toward each other knowingly, but didn't interrupt.

"The first was HER. Always wanting to know what I did at school, where I'd been, where I was going. Too many questions! She made it obvious. Am I on drugs? Do I have a boyfriend? How stupid could she be? Made herself obvious. I never did find the device she concealed but at least I know there'll be no more transmissions from her. What a mess though. In hindsight, I had no chance of finding anything in her. I know now that the devices are very small and very well hidden. I've learned to be more patient, more methodical. Back then, I was so angry, so filled with rage at her betrayal that I simply tore her apart. She cried, she screamed, she begged, she even lied. Telling me that she loved me and would get me help. Get me help! You can only imagine how much that one pissed me off. I plunged my knife into her again and again until she lay opened up before me. I sank my hands inside her, pulling out long gooey lengths of intestine and casting them aside. Blob after slimy blob, a kidney, a liver, a spleen, I don't know, throwing them about me. Nothing seemed to be what I was looking for. I slashed and cut and ripped and clawed at her for what seemed like forever. At some point she stopped moving, stopped screaming. I don't know when. I do know that eventually my energy was spent, a peace settled over me and I slept. On a bed of my mother's blood and entrails, I found a deep sleep that had eluded me since I was small.

I awoke refreshed - if a little sticky. That smell! What the fuck? Then it all came back to me and I felt a sense of purpose. I knew, with sudden clarity, that nobody was safe, that I'd never be safe, until I'd tracked them all down the way that they were tracking me. I had to destroy them and their devices.

I've refined my methods now, hoping one of them will crack, reveal their secrets.

This last one," she pointed to the body sprawled before her "would have been my greatest work. Much more organized than the ones before her. She lasted longer too - amazing how much a person can endure. Still, though, she revealed nothing to me.

This time, I began by removing the fingernails then the toenails, hopeful that the device would be underneath. No such luck. I moved onto her teeth, removing them one by one with my pliers and scraping the empty gums with my scalpel, waiting to feel metal on metal, assuring me that I'd found my prize.

Incredible how her eyes widened in terror when I selected the pliers. Almost as if she'd have been relieved if I'd picked up the hacksaw instead. Perhaps she knew there was no leaving this room, and just wanted it over quickly. But really, did she have to admit defeat so damn fast?

She looked at me like I was some kind of monster. I'll never forget that look. How could she so misunderstand? Surely, she'd seen this coming. Did she really think she could spy on someone and get away scot free? Fucking stupid slut! Why the fuck did she need to know if my lobster and candles were for a "hot date" as she put it? Why did she want to know if I have fucking FlyBuys? Any other checkout chick would have barely noticed what she packed into the bag. Just "duh, beep, duh, beep" as the items are scanned. So, then I knew. Not only is she one of THEM but they now think I have accomplices.

When I shifted a little to get a better purchase on her eyeballs with my strawberry huller, one of her teeth sunk into the bare flesh of my backside. See, they really are out to bite me on the arse. Now, I know what you're thinking. Bare arse. Yes, I'm naked but not for anything kinky, I'm not some sort of sicko pervert you know. I've just gotten really fucking sick of having to buy new clothes. Blood's a real bitch to wash out.

Anyhow, I dug around in her nostrils a little; found I had to remove some skin and a couple of bones to get a proper look. I've found an apple corer's the best tool for this job, just the right shape and size. Still, she squirmed, trying to say something but it only came out like muffled grunts - quite disgusting really. I was tempted to finish her off then and there, just to shut her up. Seriously, the grunts and gurgling were nauseating. But, I couldn't do that. Not yet. See, I'm figuring that maybe these devices have some kind of self destruct feature. You know, like a kill switch. They only work for as long as the carrier's heart beats, or something like that. That'd explain why I hadn't found them earlier - those fuckers had died too soon.

So, I kept carving away. First her ears, the flaying her skin, piece by piece, searching below in the raw flesh but still I came up empty.

She stopped struggling then and wasn't making so much noise. Just irregular gasps for breath, like if she could just keep breathing, she'd make it somehow. I ask you, why the fuck would you want to? Live I mean? No eyes, no ears, no teeth, no fucking skin. What's the point?

It was then that I heard your sirens, knew I was out of time. THEY had finally gathered enough data and sent you for me. I was running out of time, so I ripped open her chest with my knife. I only got to pull apart a couple of ribs with the bolt cutters when you busted in here. I was going to find it this time. I know I was. Five more minutes. Just five more fucking minutes."

Like a wild animal cornered by a predator, she hunched, panicked now.

"Did you transmit all of that?" the older detective asked.

"Yes, sir. She came close didn't she?"

"Too close." He said as he bent down and retrieved the tiny metal device from the dead cashier's chest cavity.

"THEY will be most pleased. And, she'll just look like another paranoid nutter."

The younger detective drew his weapon and as he fired into the cowering woman's skull, he said "It's only paranoia when you're wrong."