Foreword: Obviously Jigsaw, Amanda the Saw characters belong to Saw and the companies/people involved in making the films.

"Now, Hatty I want you to tell us everything, from the moment you woke up to the moment that we found you. You are safe with us; the FBI are setting up a security program so there is no need to be afraid of Jigsaw."

I had been taken to the police station after, I could say, one of the worst experiences of my life. I couldn't believe I was even alive to tell the story. I didn't want to tell them, but I knew I had to so that the culprit couldn't get me or anyone else again. So, I started to explain;

"I woke up to find myself trapped and gagged in the mouth. My arms and my legs had been bound to a chair that I had been forced onto. The light slowly increased as I became more aware of my surroundings. There wasn't much around me; there was the occasional small but dusty window dotted around one of the four walls, and on the wall to the back of me was a large, metal door; rather like the ones you can get in prison cells. In front of me was a large television on top of a glass table, which when I first spotted made a loud noise. Then a man in a clown mask appeared. He said… Oh, I can't do this!"

The tallest of the three policemen in the room spoke next, and the intimidation created was unbelievable. I felt like a five year old..

"Now, Hatty, take your time. I know this must be very hard for you to talk about."

See, I know that this is what policemen and women say to their victims and witnesses a lot of the time, but I really don't like being talked to like that.

"Just let me get on with it, okay?"

"Sure, go ahead", replied the policemen, not quite in unison but enough to realise that they were quite desperate to get me to say what they want to hear.

"He turned towards me and spoke in a rather deep voice. 'Hatty Jones, I want to play a game. For months now you have got into an addiction to something that should only be shared with the ones you love. Sex. Nightly you go to prostitution houses and pay others for hot sex. You probably are going to die of STIs as we speak, but I want you to prove how much you value your life, especially your sexual life that you have left before you depart from the world. Your legs are bound to the chair and there is a hook through the hoop of your clitoral piercing. The more you push yourself back into the chair the looser the metal bindings that hold your legs and arms will become, but the more it will pull on that poor clitoris of yours. My guess is by the time that you finish, you won't have one left. Oh, and one more thing. You only have five minutes to do this in. After that, this television will release a lethal gas into the room that will suffocate your lungs in a matter of seconds. Oh, and might give you an orgasm if you are lucky. But in other words, you will die. Make your choice."

"So put it this way, you're a prozzie?!" shouted the shortest police officer. By his badge, it seemed his name was David, but who knows what it could be; the police and FBI make a habit out of hiding names.

"Lloyd, what has the police told you about your attitude?" replied the police officer who had spoken to me first in the room.

"Yes, I work in prostitution. However, it is in Nevada so technically it isn't illegal."

I felt so ashamed at this point. Thinking back to what Jigsaw had said to me; selling my body was so wrong. How could I have craved sex as much as I had?

Chapter 2 coming up soon!