Is It Paranoia If They're Really Out to Get You

The night before I found out I was the long-lost daughter of a wealthy family, my adoptive mother crept into my room with a kitchen cleaver, ready to end my life.
Too bad for her, I wasn't in my bed. I was under it.
When I first arrived at the Ashton estate, the entire family looked like they’d seen a ghost.
Which made sense. They had just received news that the car sent to pick me up had exploded.
The fake heiress, their darling Olivia, asked me with a gentle, honey-sweet voice, "Sophie, why weren't you in the car?"
I answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Why would I ever get into a car with a stranger?"
"A stranger could kill me. A car could kill me."
I scanned the opulent room and the stunned faces before me.
"And for the record, I'm still convinced you all want to kill me, too."
Later, my mother, Eleanor, thinking I was being overly cautious, personally ladled a bowl of soup for me.
I smiled, then produced a silver needle and dipped it into the broth.
The needle turned black.
Eleanor stopped smiling.

1
When I walked into the Ashton family’s grand living room, everyone’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy.
My birth mother, Eleanor, was a mess of tears and snot, wailing about how tragic my fate was.
Seeing their state, I cleared my throat. The butler had led me in, and I stood before them, my worn-out backpack and duffel bags a stark contrast to the marble floors.
"Hello," I said. "I'm Sophie."
The three of them—my mother, my father, and their son—just stared, frozen.
After all, not ten minutes earlier, they had received confirmation of my death. The car sent to retrieve me had exploded en route. There were no survivors.
It was the fake daughter, Olivia, who recovered first. Her voice was as soft as silk. "Sophie, why weren't you in the car?"
I gave a slight shrug. "Why would I get into a car with a stranger?" I said flatly. "Strangers are dangerous. What if he decided to pull out a knife and gut me? And cars are dangerous. What if we got into an accident? A stranger and a car? I can think of at least a hundred ways to die."
I let my gaze drift over each of them, my expression blank. "Of course," I added, "I'm still convinced you people want to hurt me, too."
My parents, Richard and Eleanor, exchanged a look, utterly lost for words.
My brother, Ethan, stepped forward. "What are you talking about? You're our family. Why would we want to hurt you?"
"Is that so? Good," I replied, my eyes already mapping the layout of the mansion, plotting fire escape routes.
The rooms were too big, with too many places for someone to hide. The house was crawling with butlers and maids; keeping a safe distance would be a chore.
Eleanor must have noticed the tension in my posture. She spoke in a soft, soothing tone. "Don't worry, Sophie. You're home now. We won't let you suffer anymore."
As she spoke, she reached out, intending to stroke my hair.
Her hand was halfway to my head when I instinctively recoiled, putting a good ten feet between us. From this distance, if she lunged, I'd have a head start.
Eleanor froze, awkwardly retracting her hand. "It's alright," she said, her smile a little strained. "We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other."
I just stared at her, saying nothing.
Ethan couldn't hold back his frustration. "Sophie, Mom is just trying to be nice to you! She's not going to attack you."
Olivia seized the opportunity, her voice dripping with manufactured concern. "Sophie... don't you want to be here with us?"
"That's right," I said, my directness wiping the sweet expression right off her face. "I don't. I never wanted to come back."
"What... what do you mean?" she stammered.
I smirked and pointed a finger at her. "What do I mean? I mean, you can thank your precious birth mother for that."
I let the words hang in the air. "Last night, she came at me with a kitchen cleaver. If I hadn't already been hiding under the bed, I'd be dead right now."
A dead silence fell over the room.
I turned my gaze to my biological parents. "As for why I came here," I continued, "it's because you're civilized people. I assume your methods of murder will be a little more... sophisticated. Physical attacks test my reflexes, and frankly, I'm too malnourished to outrun anyone."

2
Ethan’s brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? Olivia's birth mother is your adoptive mother. Why would she try to kill you?"
Olivia’s face went pale, and her voice cracked. "Yes, Sophie, how could you say that about Mom? She raised you for over a decade."
Watching their little performance, I reached into my backpack, pulled out the official police report receipt, and tossed it onto the mahogany coffee table. Then I took out my phone and played a video.
On the screen, a middle-aged woman hacked at an empty bed with a cleaver, striking it over and over again. When she realized no one was there, she began frantically searching the room. The next clip was shaky footage of her chasing me down the street, cleaver in hand, for block after block.
When the video ended, Eleanor's eyes were welling up again, but this time, she kept her distance.
My father, Richard, just frowned, lost in thought. Olivia sat on the sofa, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.
"Is that... real? Not from a movie?" Ethan exclaimed.
"It's real," I said calmly. "So, if you two are feeling charitable, could you get me a lawyer?"
Richard finally spoke, his voice raspy. "Yes. I'll hire the best. Is there anything else you need?"
I thought for a moment. "I want you to let me stay here, safely, until I finish my final exams."
"Done," he said without hesitation. "And rest assured, we will protect you. You are our daughter. You can ask for anything."
I put my phone away, my voice devoid of emotion. "That won't be necessary. I have no expectations of you."
Eleanor’s lips parted as if to say something, but she just offered me a gentle, sad smile instead. Ethan looked like he was about to argue, but a sharp glance from his father silenced him. Richard changed the subject, suggesting he show me to my room.
When we got there, Eleanor looked at me expectantly. "Sophie, I had a designer decorate this room just for you, based on what we thought you might like. It has great light and a small balcony. What do you think?"
I ignored her and the view she was pointing to. The moment the door opened, I started methodically searching the entire space.
The smile on Eleanor's face froze. "Sophie, what are you looking for?"
"Just checking to see if anyone's tampered with anything."
"Sophie, are you insane?" Ethan had followed us in and was now scowling as he watched me take apart an electrical socket. "This is our home! Who would bother trying to harm you here?!"
I ignored him, continuing my sweep, checking every corner, every fixture.
Ethan kept muttering under his breath until I placed the three pinhole cameras I’d found on the pristine white bedspread.
He fell silent, his eyes wide with shock. "What... what are those?"
"Cameras."
Eleanor’s face paled. "That's impossible," she stammered. "How could there be cameras in here?"
"Can I have a different room?" I asked, looking around at the overly lavish decor, wondering what else was hidden within the walls.
Richard arrived a moment later. He took one look at the cameras, didn't ask a single question, and told me to pick any room I wanted.
I did a full circuit of the mansion and chose a modest room on the ground floor, right next to the main entrance.

3
After I’d settled in, the butler called me for dinner. I grabbed my backpack and went to the dining room.
Olivia smiled sweetly as I approached. "Sophie, you're finally here."
I didn't answer. First, I walked a full circle around the massive dining table. I checked my chair for any strange liquids and glanced up to ensure there were no precariously hanging chandeliers directly overhead.
Only then did I sit, placing my backpack on my lap where I could easily reach inside.
Eleanor offered me a bowl of rice. I shook my head and pulled two cans of beef stew and a vacuum-sealed sausage from my bag. "No, thank you. I brought my own."
A troubled look crossed her face. "You don't like rice?"
"It's not that. This just feels safer." I inspected the seals on the cans before popping one open. Canned food was infinitely more trustworthy than anything on this table.
Eleanor leaned closer, her eyes filled with concern. "But you're a growing girl. You can't live on canned food."
"Unhealthy is better than dead," I said without looking up, scooping a spoonful of stew into my mouth.
Ethan slammed his chopsticks down. "Sophie, don't you think you're being a little dramatic?" he snapped. "The staff prepared this food. What could possibly be wrong with it? You're acting like a cornered animal. Isn't it exhausting?"
I ignored him and continued eating my stew.
Eleanor, her heart clearly aching for me, personally ladled a bowl of chicken soup. "Sophie, I made this myself. Just have one sip, please? I promise, there's nothing in it."
I stared at the bowl for a two full seconds, then reached into my backpack and pulled out a long, thin silver needle. Pinching the end, I slowly dipped the tip into the soup.
"Sophie, what are you doing?" Olivia put her chopsticks down, her eyes fixed on me. "Surely you don't think your own mother would poison you?"
Ethan was about to chime in, but before he could, the tip of the silver needle turned a deep, unmistakable black.
Eleanor stared, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Before I could speak, Richard said soothingly, "Silver needles aren't always accurate. The soup might just contain some natural sulfides."
Eleanor nodded eagerly. "That's right, Sophie! It's probably just a mistake."
"We'll see if it's a mistake," I said, cutting her off. I reached deep into my backpack and pulled out a small, palm-sized wire cage. Cowering inside was a small gray mouse I had caught specifically for this purpose. I’d been keeping it in my bag for poison testing.
"Where did you get a mouse?!" Ethan shot up from his chair, his face contorted in disgust. "Sophie, have you lost your mind? You brought a rodent into the house!"
I ignored him, used a small spoon to scoop up a bit of the chicken soup, and offered it to the mouse through the bars of the cage. The mouse crept forward, licked the spoon twice, and then, a few seconds later, it began to twitch violently before falling over, stiff as a board.

4
The air at the table froze solid.
Eleanor’s face went chalk-white, her lips trembling too much to form words.
Olivia, sitting beside her, showed a brief flash of panic before her expression returned to normal. "Dad, Mom... maybe the mouse was already sick."
Ethan, staring at the dead rodent, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, maybe Sophie is just trying to scare us."
I looked up at my brother and gave him a pitying smile. Then, I reached back into my bag and pulled out another, perfectly healthy, wriggling mouse.
"You have another one?" Ethan stared at my backpack as if it were a portal to another dimension.
I picked up the spoon and offered another taste of the soup. Soon, there was a second dead mouse on the table, its demise as swift and silent as the first.
This time, nobody said a word.
Richard’s face was like thunder. He ordered the butler to clear the table and throw everything out.
I went back to my canned stew, silently contemplating the fact that this pristine mansion was probably devoid of wild mice for me to catch. Maybe I'd have to start breeding my own. They seemed easy enough to raise.
Later that afternoon, I was hungry again. I took out a self-heating pack to boil water for some instant noodles.
Ethan walked in and scoffed at the sight. "Are you serious, Sophie? There's a gas stove and an electric kettle right there, and you're using that little contraption to cook?" He shook his head. "So inefficient."
"It's safe," I said without turning around, sprinkling the seasoning packet over the dry noodles.
"Safe my ass. I think you just don't know how to use a real kitchen, so you're putting on a show." He came over and snatched the self-heating container from my hands, placing it on the counter. "The noodles that thing makes are barely edible. Just wait. I'll make you a proper bowl. It'll take ten minutes and taste a hundred times better."
"I don't need you to," I said, reaching for the container, but he pulled it away.
He raised an eyebrow, full of misplaced confidence. "I'm your brother. You think I'm going to hurt you?"
I frowned, looking at him seriously. "I just don't think the kitchen is safe. What if someone tampered with the gas line? What if it explodes?"
"You think way too much. I bet the soup thing was just a weird fluke. I had two bowls of it at lunch and I'm fine."
He turned and headed for the kitchen. As I watched him go, alarm bells screamed in my head. I quickly backed away to a safe distance.
"Will you stop it already?" he said, glancing back and rolling his eyes at me. "I'm just making instant noodles. Wait right there."
I watched him walk into the kitchen.
A second later, there was a deafening BOOM.
By the time the butler and my parents came running, black smoke was already billowing out of the kitchen doorway.
The ambulance arrived quickly. As they loaded Ethan onto a stretcher, he looked over at me, his face smudged with soot, and mumbled, "It must have been... an accident. When I get back... I'll make you those noodles..."
I watched the ambulance drive away, then quietly went back to making my noodles with the self-heating pack.

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