8 Paranoia

"April Fool's rather." Janice grasps her "bloody" head. "Gosh! OM Sharon and TL Helga! You two just blew my head off! You killed me!"

We all laugh. And jeez, it feels so good! Blissful. When was the last time I laugh? Nevermind. The important thing is, the bad omen that was eating us a while ago seems to creep away from us now. Our laughter is genuine, no doubt about that. Tonight is not that bad, after all. It could be worse. Everything will be just fine.

"But TL Helga, how did you manage to release smoke from your nose and mouth?"

We all turn to Jack. He is smiling wryly at Helga, his arms crossed around his chest.

Vape? Using it, anyone can store great amount of synthetic smoke in their lungs and then release them any time they want, or so I heard. Could it be? But–

Perhaps you just imagined those smoke rising out from Helga's ears, Fyodor. It's humanly impossible for anyone to release smoke from their ears.

Helga points a finger at Jack. "Good question!"

"So how–"

Helga claps her hands. "Everyone, proceed to the Training room. We shall do some mock calls. Most of you obviously need a little more training." She throws a glance at Sharon, her face now stern and stolid that says 'Back to business, bitch!' "OM Sharon, call PLDT right now. I'm dying to know if we can still retrieve our leads for tonight. Just think about those sales that we're losing!"

"S-Sure, Helga. Right away." Sharon stoops and picks up her clipboard on the floor. Clasping it to her chest, she throws one last cautious look at Helga, then at me, nods, and then turns around and scurries away. All the other agents follow her, throwing witty jokes and catcalls to each other.

A hand lands upon my shoulder.

"Turn off your PC." Her voice is as cold as her hand. Helga is facing me, but her bloodshot eyes are rolling from side to side, darting back and fort, seemingly searching and probing for something despicable hiding somewhere in this dimly-lit room. Some thing like that life-sized Teddy bear sitting silently beside the water dispenser, or Ghostface standing steadfastly by the Grandfather Clock near the window.

Something's wrong.

You're right, Fyodor. Something's wrong in here. Something's really wrong. Helga is the living proof.

Helga's eyes bore into mine.

"Are you deaf? I said turn off your PC!"

Breaking the bad spell, I look over my shoulder, and sure enough, that damned Lolita Outbreak file greets me. I turn my swivel chair around in front of my PC, my seat creaking as I do, grateful to be freed from Helga's calculating dark eyes again.

"Get rid of that stupid file! Now!"

The floor creaks as Helga strides away from me. This part of the house is renovated, sure, but still old. Very old. And I sure wish that one day, a floor-board would suddenly collapse under Helga's feet and swallow her whole. One less ugly witch in the world. I just hope the floor wouldn't spit her out, though. Helga is toxic, after all.

My hand grope for the mouse, then click the X button on the upper right corner of that dreadful file.

The Lolita Outbreak file remains on the screen. This is crazy. What to do? Perhaps this is some kind of a strong computer virus that-

The screen goes pitch black. The PC itself dies abruptly, making the mini-fan embedded on its back to slightly jitter on its axis.

A face with a bulging forehead, light-coloured, brittle, and slow-growing hair, thick lips, sharp ears, and flattened bridge of the nose appears on the screen, staring eagerly at me. The face also has thin, wrinkled, and dark-colored skin around its sharp eyes.

Oh, crap! What happened? What is it this time, Fyodor? What have you done?

Apparently, my good old PC has just died, and I don't know why. The AVR still blinks, indicating that the power is still on. So how-

A rustling in a corner. A scraping sound. A soft thud! as some thing seemingly falls and hits the carpeted floor.

There, still leaning against the wall and sitting on the floor by the water dispenser, is the Teddy bear. A few feet away from it, the glass gently rolls back and fort, the green carpet beneath and around it already soaked and darkening. The Teddy bear stares coldy at me, its two ebony button-eyes glowing green amidst the dimness. I can almost hear it in the back of my mind, explaining sheepishly in an almost high shrill tone of voice comparable to Helga's: I'm as thirsty as you are. Sorry, no sorry.

Something's wrong. Something's not right. Something's not in place. But what? How the glass fell on the floor is a great mystery, sure, but my gut feeling tells me that there's something more mysterious than that and I am just not seeing it or failing to notice it. What? The glowing water dispenser? What's so remarkable about it? The Teddy bear? What's so strange about it? I am being stared at by a giant Teddy bear, sure, so what? It's not that it's a strange thing to be stared at by a silly stuffed–

A shiver creeps up my spine.

The Teddy bear is staring at me! When just a moment ago it was facing sideway.

And the peanut brittle container. It's gone!

The Teddy bear ate them. Took the container, picked the spilled pieces of peanut brittles and ate them all. And of course, it got thirsty so it tried to drink from the water dispenser but the glass slid from it's grasp and so the glass fell, alerting me in the process. It's angry because I caught it. Now it wants to drink my blood.

You're watching way too many horror movies, Fyodor. Get a grip!

I stand up. The swivel chair creaks behind me. My breathings seem so loud and yet so distant they seem not mine but coming from someone else's lips pressed against my earlobes.

The bear's left paw seems to be moving, ever stealthly. The black claws seems to stretch, like a cat might do to its claws while sleeping and dreaming about its infant years sucking its mother's nipple. Or did I just imagine it? Is my mind playing tricks on me again as it sometimes does at times when I'm alone and my stomach comparable to nothing but a pillar of stone? The way I am quite alone now, weak, miserable, and hungry?

I slowly step forward, not taking my eyes off the bear, not daring to blink, either. I can almost hear its low, laborious breathing. Looks like it has an asthma or something, and already upon the brink of death. Why didn't I notice this much earlier? The bear is obviously not fit to be placed beside the water dispenser. I should have find it intriguing and suspicious. It is obviously misplaced. But then again, the water dispenser being placed beside the bathroom seems intriguing, suspicious, and misplaced, too. And so unhygienic as well. Cringe-worthy. But I did not bat an eye. No one ever did. We just moved on with our lives, making and taking live calls, pretending that every thing around here is normal. All is jake. Regardless, whoever moved those furnitures around in her must be so damn intelligent.

The room is eerily silent saved by the tickings of the grandfather clock behind me, and the soft music coming from Sharon's PC. The bear's nasal breathings are almost as clear as mine now. I can almost feel its hot, fetid breath brushing my face, though, there are no openings or slit of any kind on its face, just a round mound for a snout. Nevertheless, for unknown reason, the Teddy bear is alive. It must be. It ate those peanut brittles. It tried to drink from the glass. And I saw its paw move a while ago.

It is alive. I'm almost sure about that. I know what I know. Lucky thing is, I can prove it. The bear is just playing it cool. Pretending to be dead. But it will attack, only waiting for the right moment. It will suddenly spring up on its two hind legs, let out a vicious growl, and then maul me until I'm nothing but shreds of bloody meat. I'm not going to let that happen. Oh, no! Never gonna happen, sunshine. Not a chance. Not in a billion trillion years.

Not if I kill it first.

Knife! I need a knife. There are knives in the pantry, carefully placed above the cupboard by the sink.

With my head throbbing like a bad tooth, I spin around in a trot, meaning to sprint my way into the pantry as fast as a I can.

I almost run on the boy.