II.
Hoffman roamed the hallway of what was in an abandoned building that was on the other side of town where homeless people and gangs lived. The windows were partially smashed, the walls and floor looked like they were wearing out. Pipes were rusted and doors creaked when you opened and closed them.
What was forensics even doing in a place like this? There was a no murder or crime here. He was here for another reason. He liked the keep that reason private because he couldn't let anyone know what it was.
He was dressed in black pants and a light blue long sleeve button down shirt with a collar and a white shirt on underneath it. In one of his hands, he carried a cell phone.
He was searching for his daughter here because he knew she would be in this building. He only before two hours were up to find here or she would die. She would need an antidote and Hoffman knew where to get in.
But it wasn't time yet for that happen. First, he had other things to do. He couldn't meet up with Angie right away. He had to let her find him and let her choose whether to trust him or not. And of course she would trust him. He is her father. But…she wasn't really his daughter.
Not really his daughter? Hoffman had been on duty working on a murder case ten years ago in 1997 when he discovered her. She was only six years old. He found her in a small, rundown house. She had been hiding in the closet with the door closed but not locked. Her father had been killed and that was what Hoffman and the police were investigating. He heard whimpering and a bang in the closet as soon as they were about to leave.
He opened up the closet and saw her, her cheeks red and her eyes puffy and wet from crying. Wrapped around her small arms was a stuffed animal. It was a stuffed dog. He asked her a few simple questions like about is the man who was killed here was her father and said yes. Instead of telling anyone about this girl, he kept it secret and brought her home with him and made her his daughter. He named her Angie and loved her as his own. When someone had asked him about if he had any children, he told them,
"I have a girl at home."
The person, who was a cop that asked him, said blankly, "Oh, I didn't realize you were married."
"I'm not married, it's a long story."
Angie had forgotten about her life with her biological father in that run down house and cared more about Hoffman as her father. She describes her first life simply as just a "nightmare". Hoffman would even tell her that it was just to make her feel better.
But now, he had other important things to take care of than just be her father. He had a new job to fulfill now and he couldn't fail it. He hadn't failed the first time so he couldn't now.
He sighed and made a right, opening a big metal door with his free hand and entered the room that was another hallway.
It was almost time…
Bang! I dropped the axe after using it to damage the wall and make a huge hole in the wall. The wall was big enough for me to go into. I was surprised that I didn't have to do it any further than I did. Beyond that wall was a tunnel and who knew what lay beyond that.
'I guess I'm going through that wall and into the tunnel.' I thought to myself. There was no other way out of the room. I put my right leg through first then my other one and after that, my body.
The tunnel was dark except for a ceiling light giving very dim light. The ceiling light swung back and forth slowly, making tiny creaking noises. Rats roamed the puddle tunnel and other rats ate some unknown substance that looked disgusting.
'How far do I have to go?'
That's when I saw light beaming in from the other side that looked farther away than this tunnel really was. I felt relieved when I saw the light because I thought that it would bring me to safety.
I started running towards the light, hoping that a door was at the end. I picked up the pace and ran as fast as I could and the farther that I ran, the closer the light became to me.
'I'm getting out of here. Jigsaw's plan is going to ruined and he can't do anything about it.' I thought.
As I came closer to the light, a door appeared. It looked rusted and metal. I didn't care what condition it was in as long as I was able to open the door and walk through it. I could see in big red letters above the door "EXIT?"
I didn't make it to the door. Something had gotten in front of me and tripped me. I lost my balance and fell face first, my face and the left side of my face and head smashing against the wet, hard gravel. I failed to put out my hands to catch myself. I felt some pain and a warm sensation oozing out from my nose. It was fresh blood.
I was turned around to lie on my back. I began seeing silver dots before my vision turned blurry. Someone was in here with me. It looked a lot like a man. The only thing about him that I could describe was that he had a light blue collar shirt on that had buttons and he wore black pants.
"You can't leave yet. You have to follow the rules." He stated in an unemotional tone. His voice sounded very familiar to me. He picked me up in one movement and threw me over his shoulder and he started walking the way that I had ran from.
'He's bringing me back to the room where I woke up.' I thought.
"You went the wrong way and made the hole in the wrong wall." He said. "Oh well. It's my job to keep you on from leaving."
Why did he sound so familiar?
I couldn't get to guess the answer to that question because I drifted off into unconsciousness.