Opening my eyes, I felt drowsy and looked around the dark room.
'Where am I? How did I get here?' I thought to myself. The last thing I remember was walking home in the dark. BIG MISTAKE I know.
I tried to move and felt a sharp sting on both arms. I looked down to see razors pinning my arms down on both sides.
"Hello? Can anybody hear me?! Help!" I screamed and shouted.
I heard a flicker and a light flashed from the corner of the room, showing a puppet.
'Oh shit, Jigsaw,' I thought.
"Hello Casey, I want to play a game. You don't know me but I know you. I know your whole life you have been abused. Is that why you choose not to live it? To try again and again to take the easy way out? You starve your body of food; you drag knives and razors across your wrist and take all the drugs you can get your hands on. Look to the mirror in front of you and se the mess you've made. I do not blame you but I do call you unworthy of the life you possess. Today, you have to prove to yourself that there is more to life than drugs and knives. If you can do that, then you can go free. All you have to do is pull your arms and legs free of the razors that hold them in place and walk to the door. You will find the key in that jar of acid by the door. But be careful, this room has sight and sound and for every drop of blood that hits the floor, one minute will be taken away. The things you use to take away your pain may take away your life. You have 10 minutes. Let the game begin!"
"Oh shit, oh shit," I said, aloud.
I tired to pull my arms but, again, the sting of the razor hurt too much.
"He's right, if I can cut myself to pieces then I can get out of this easily enough," I took a deep breath and counted to three.
A three, I pulled quick and fast, like pulling off a plaster.
"Agh!" I screamed.
My arms pulled free, blood poured out of the wounds and as they hit the floor, I looked at the clock.
8 minutes turned into 6 minutes.
For a second time, I counted to three and stood up, pushing forwards.
I fell on the floor, crying in pain.
5. 4. 3.
"Shit, shit!"
I tried to run as fast as I could through the pain in my thighs, my hands pressing against them, trying to stop the blood from dripping onto the floor. I couldn't stop my arms from dripping though, and I lost another minute.
I got to the jar of acid and tired to think of what to do; I was in shorts in and a strap top and got an idea.
I ripped as big a part off my top as possible and wrapped my hand in it.
I clenched my fist and thrust my hand into the acid.
It didn't take long to burn through the material and taint the acid with my blood.
1 minute and 30 seconds.
I tried again two more times and when the clock reached 45 seconds, I knew I had to get the key or die.
I plunged my hand into the jar and scraped the bottom for the key, trying to ignore the burning of my melting flesh.
"Yes!" I cried when I got the key and switched it to my left hand, fumbling with the lock.
10 seconds. 5 seconds.
3 seconds from the end, the lock clicked and the door swung open.
I hit the fresh air and fell to my knees, breathing it in with so much appreciation but, with the loss of blood, I suddenly got woozy and everything went black as I passed out.
Again, I woke up in a room I didn't recognise, only this time I was laid on a bed.
"Hello?" I started to panic. "Is anyone there?"
"You're awake," a male voice said, as a person appeared from the next room. "Congratulations on having the strength to stay alive."
As he came into the light, I recognised his familiar face.
"You. You're Jill's ex-husband," I said, referring to my aunt.
The oldish man in front of me, John, was still technically my uncle.
"I'm not just your aunt's ex-husband. I am the person the newspapers have labelled as Jigsaw. And I have a proposition for you."