"What is deservedly suffered must be borne with calmness, but when the pain is unmerited, the grief is resistless." -Ovid (Roman Poet.)
Waiting for Death
-a few days after Saw I-
"He's still alive," Amanda comments, seemingly at random. John looks up, obviously understanding the implication. But she decides to clarify anyway. "Adam. He's alive."
John and Amanda set up the bathroom game almost five days ago but they have not actually discussed the results. In fact, this is the first time it's even been mentioned since the brief report he gave her that same day. Amanda knows that Lawrence is alive, but the little concern she has expressed thus far has been for Adam.
John is aware of the other man's condition. Amanda isn't telling him this because she thinks he doesn't already know. She's speaking, instead, with the deliberate subtlety of an unspoken question. (What are we going to do about it?)
His answer is vaguely harsh. "He had his chance." It's simple, yet sufficient. (No, we are not going to interfere in any way.)
Amanda understands. She has no reason to push the issue, but she does anyway. "We're just going to let him starve, aren't we?" It's all she can say without revealing the two rules she's already breaking: her emotional involvement and the fact that she's returned to the crime scene twice now. Just last night, she went with a bottle of water and a full loaf of bread in her hands, before deciding against the interaction. She couldn't even open the door that time. Somehow, she just knows it, though. Adam is alive, and it's her fault...
"Adam made his choice," John sighs finally, after almost a full minute of silence between them. "The rules of the game stated that-"
"I know!" Amanda snaps in interruption. "I know that he's gonna die, okay? I know that he deserves it... But..." She averts her eyes and exhales slowly. "It was different when we thought that gunshot wound could have killed him... It just seems cruel... you know? Making him wait for death? Without any hope or resources or any-"
John silences her with one raised finger and a simple demand: "Think about what you just said."
Amanda blinks and frowns before repeating her last sentiment: "It's cruel?"
"No..." John waits for her to look up again, and restores their eye-contact before he finishes the explanation. "You said, 'he deserves it.' ... Do you believe that?"
"I..." She shakes her head, but it's a gesture of frustration, not objection. Finally, she shrugs. "I guess so."
"Adam is just sitting around. Wasting his time... waiting to die..." He pauses just long enough to confirm that Amanda is beginning to see the parallel. "He's been like that for some time now: the majority of his life, actually... So, what's really changed for him?"
The question takes Amanda by surprise. She opens her mouth for a moment, but closes it immediately. She has no words: no argument here. Not even a decent guess.
"The scenery?" John suggests almost-sarcastically. "Or is it just that we've removed the illusion of a possible escape from that life?"
Amanda's eyes widen in a weak, nonverbal protest, but, still, she says nothing.
"It's not cruelty," John continues, his tone now seeming to contradict this assurance. "We gave him a chance and he didn't take it. Your game was no different. If you had failed or hesitated too long, you would be dead. That's how it works. That's what it's all about: life and what little control we have here."
Silence.
"Amanda..." He resumes the monologue moments later with a suddenly-softer tone. She startles. She is paying attention. She's hanging on his every word with a combination of trust and shaky resentment; but the sound of her name still manages to send chills through her. "I need you to understand that."
She manages a nod, suggesting obedience if not comprehension; and John concludes: "Sometimes, it's necessary."