Chapter 2. Dejá Vù
Adam was going, no, rather running along the streets leading to his apartment. What just happened hadn't been horribly embarrassing alone, it also made him remember the things he actually wanted to forget. It was just another proof to him. He couldn't forget about it. He wasn't able to. No matter how much he was trying.
When the police had found him, he had stopped screaming for help already. His rescuers had found him crying. He had bent over Zep's dead body with desperation and cried because of two reasons. Because of mortal fear and because of worry about Lawrence.
And again, he blushed. Everyone would have cried out of fear. But he didn't know why he was worried about Lawrence. Not only because that pompous, self-opinioated doctor had been getting on his nerves because he had known everything better than he did… also because he didn't know him. Actually, Adam knew nothing about him.
Maybe it was that cute, amicable promise in the end.
But… maybe it was… the proximity to him… feeling his cold, but still soft hands…
His smell… mixed with sweat and blood, but still unique… manly…
His eyes… a clear blue, deep like water itself…
Once again, he felt the heat coming up to his head, coloring his cheeks in a bright pink. He swallowed. Why was his entire body shaking everytime he thought of Lawrence? This man had been nothing but an annoying smart-ass all along!
But in the end, he turned out to be a friend. Now, he was dead. Adam was more than sure Lawrence was dead. He either died from the massive blood loss… or through the hands of…
Jigsaw.
Adam gulped. He didn't know that it wasn't Jigsaw's purpose to kill. He only knew that this man wanted to imprison him since he was unable to bring himself to saw his foot off.
Adam felt hate boil in his blood. He had made them suffer in so many horrible ways. Lawrence nearly died worrying about his family.
It made Adam sigh. Lawrence was dead. There was no doubt about that.
Sadly Adam took out the key to his apartment and wanted to unlock the door when he spotted someone.
A woman. There was a distance between them, she was on a parking lot near his house. In her late twenties, he guessed. Brown hair, ponytail, casual clothing. A sharp sparkle in her eyes. Adam couldn't take his eyes off of her. He also couldn't get rid of the feeling of having seen her before. Her face was kind of bothering him.
Carefully, he let his hand slip into his bag. It touched his camera, and for a single moment, he was thinking of taking a photo of her. He didn't know why. She was a woman he didn't know, and there was nothing special about her that was worthy being photographed.
Suddenly, her eyes met his. Even through the distance he could see she was looking at him. Adam gulped. It was an unpleasant feeling to him. There was something alarming on her.
Quickly, he looked away from her, unlocked the door and slammed it shut as soon as he was inside. "Serves me right," he thought to himself. The woman had only looked at him because he had started it.
He sighed, burying his face in his hand. He had changed completely. He had become a different man.
Back then, he would never have just stared at a woman. She would have to be incredibly pretty for that. Everything had changed.
"Faulkner!" A deep, raspy voice brought him back to reality.
Adam's eyes looked up. There was his landlord standing before him. Old, obese and hunchbacked, but a voice that could wake up the whole country if he wanted to.
Adam took a deep breath. He knew exactly what was about to come now.
"Yes, Mr. Hobbs?"
The old man approached him. "Your rent is due now, Faulkner! I wanna have the money in my letterbox… tomorrow at the latest! I can't tolerate your delays forever, do you think I have hundreds of tenants or what!" he growled.
Adam sighed. "Of course, Sir. You'll have your money by tomorrow, I promise," he murmured weakly. He was tired and feeling weak, and the constant hustle of his landlord didn't make it any easier for him and his income.
Mr. Hobbs nodded. "Good. Now that I had to make things clear personally once again, you're free to go now."
Adam rolled his eyes. "Too kind…," he murmured and slowly went up the stairs.
"Oh, and… Faulkner?"
Adam sighed again and paused, turning his head to him. "Yes, Mr. Hobbs?"
"Eat something and take a shower. You look pale, not sexy in the least."
Without saying another word, Adam turned away from him and went upside. He knew how skinny, pale and weak he looked. He didn't need to be reminded.
Reaching his living room, he weakly threw his bag onto the couch and took off his shirt. It fell down on the floor while he was slowly going to the bathroom, taking off his last piece of clothing until he was naked.
He turned on the water and let it patter on his nude, thin body. He was thinking.
Two months… and it still was on his mind…
He softly leaned onto the wall of the shower, feeling nothing but cold stone and water. But what he was longing for was a body.
A strong, warm body, holding him, showing him he was not alone.
When Lawrence had left the bathroom, Adam didn't feel the fear alone, but also sadness. Even if they hadn't know each other for more than a couple of hours – Adam was sure there had been more between them.
Their hands had touched. His had been warm and sweaty, while those of Lawrence had been cold and shaking. He had become pale in the face from the enormous blood loss, but his warm, irregular had shown that he had been still alive. At least his life hanging by a thread.
Moping, Adam let a hand slide through his wet hair and pushed his back onto the wall of the shower. It was bound to happen.
There was Lawrence's voice swifting through his head. His words.
"You're going to be alright… I'll go get help…"
"Don't worry, I'll bring someone back… I promise…"
Adam squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to think about it, but his head wasn't able to let go of it.
"I wouldn't lie to you…"
Now he was about to slump down. He was crying. He refused to believe Lawrence was dead. And still he knew better.
He turned off the water, dryed himself and took on his pants and his shirt. His hair was still wet, but he didn't really care.
All of the sudden, his eyes spotted the shirt he wore back then in the bathroom.
The white color was filled with dust and dirt, dark blood stains were visible. Ever since he had been saved from the bathroom, Adam hadn't washed it. Not at all. He kneeled down and took it in his hands carefully. Although it was absolutely impossible Lawrence's smell was on it, he inhaled the scent of the shirt. But all he smelled was dirt, sweat and blood.
All silent, he laid down on his couch. Lawrence's voice was still in his head, softly and slowly awakening his memory.
Slowly, he let himself sink into the soft leather of the couch. Sometimes, sleep made him forget things. Dreams could distract. Adam hoped for it to be his solution. He closed his eyes, and it didn't take long for him to fall into the dark abyss of sleep.
Cold, dirty hands were holding his own, holding them tight and still. Deep, blue eyes were looking into his, being hidden under some dirty-blonde streaks of hair. His lips opened for him to speak.
"You're going to be alright… you're just wounded in the shoulder… I have to go and get… help…"
"Don't worry, I'll bring someone back… I promise…"
"I wouldn't lie to you…"
"I love you…"
Adam's eyes opened wide. Cold sweat was on his forehead, his entire body was shaking, his heart was beating that rapidly that it nearly fell out of his chest. He looked out the window. Dark night.
He looked at the watch. 10:53 PM.
He jumped up from the couch, putting on his shirt. He grabbed his keys, ran out of the house and went into his car. Doesn't matter how much time will pass by… I'll never forget about it, he thought.
While driving he still had the time to think about it. Whether it was the right thing to do. But there wasn't any other solution coming to his mind out of desparation.
He had reached the bridge. A few seconds passed by until he approached the rail. He wrapped his hands around the iron, looking down at the dark water screaming for him.
When he had just found the courage to climb up the rail and jump down, he was stopped. He felt a tight grip on his arms, someone pushed his wrists together on his back, and before he could scream for help, someone pushed a cloth onto his mouth.
A cloth of chloroform.
"I'm sorry, Adam…"
Adam's head was yanking around, and before he lost consciousness, he had looked behind, into a face.
Into the face of a woman.