As we walk onwards, the darkness seems to swallow us whole, devouring whatever sanity we have left. My hope is fading that we'll make it out alive. Sooner or later, somebody's going to die. Who's first? Who knows, but I find myself starting to wish that I had died in that wreck so I wouldn't have to go through this. Wait - what am I, sick or something? I hit my head with my palm to snap out of these thoughts.
Up ahead another spotlight snaps on, revealing a tape recorder sitting on a small table - and a bat underneath. Like clockwork, Jacks reaches for the tape, picks it up, presses play.
"So you still remain true to the fact that neither of you have committed a crime. You claim to be innocent and blame another for your wrongdoings. Now the innocent must proceed forward, but who is, in fact, innocent and who is guilty? What is the story you have tried so desperately to hide? How much further will you go to hide it?"
The tape clicks off. We all just stand there and look at each other, not sure what he meant.
It's Jacks who notices the doorway and the words above it. "Up there," he says, pointing to the door frame. "There's something up there."
As if on cue, a light snaps on pointing at the door. In bright red letters are the words "The story must be told and someone must stay. Guilty or innocent."
I'm trying to make sense of it all when I realize there's another problem: the baseball bat under the table is gone. I look around for it, worried; then I notice Jacks has it in his hands. He's looking at me, incensed, before he looks at Jenny and holds it up. It then hits me what he's about to do.
"Jacks," I say in a low voice, "don't do it. It's not worth killing another life. Let's just get out of here in one piece."
Jenny backs up fearfully until she hits a corner. Jacks looks at her and then at me. "Which one?" he says aloud. "Which one is more guilty?"
"Neither of us are guilty, Jacks," I say. "Jenny can't drive yet. I was in the hospital -"
"F**k the bloody hospital!" Jacks snarls. "It's either you or her, Griffith! Dina and I have nothing to do with this sh*t! Survival of the fittest! That's what this is all about! Those who aren't fit enough die!"
"That doesn't mean we should be murdered right and left," I reply, trying to soothe the wild beast.
For a moment there is silence. Then Jacks holds up the bat. "You know what?" he says, eyeballing me. "I'm sick of you questioning our motives and demanding answers. I've had it with you, Griffith." He starts walking towards me. "You could have saved our friends, and you chose not to deliberately. You chose to let them all die in the traps."
"Jacks, you know that some of those were out of my control," I say. "If Carson hadn't struggled, I'd have saved him!"
But he doesn't listen. Before I know what's happening he's taken a swing at me. I fall to the ground, briefly stunned; as I try to get back up again Jacks slams the bat against my legs, forcing me back down.
"You've had it coming for a long time, Griffith!" Jacks snarls, lifting the bat up again.
I raise my arm to block the hit, but the bat smashes right through it and smacks my neck. I let out a wild scream, realizing my arm might have been broken by the blow.
"Useless piece of sh*t!" Jacks continues, continuing to strike blow after blow to my weakened body.
"Who went through all your tests?!" I yell at him. "Who put themselves through agony to attempt rescuing your friends?! You sure as hell didn't!"
The bat smacks against my helmet, stunning me and forcing me backwards. Jacks' angry shouts don't register as he beats me to near-unconsciousness. Then I hear the sound of bandages ripping. There must have been some sort of knife also there on the table - either that or it's Jacks' own knife. I don't know.
It doesn't take long before my vision starts to fade. There's a long slash on my torso and a couple on my arms from trying to defend myself. My legs have a few too, but not as deep as that chest one. Blood gushes from my bandages as I lie there on the floor. I'm bleeding to death for the second time tonight. I'm not getting out of this one alive. But maybe death would be better than this...
My mind's going. I shouldn't be thinking these thoughts. But I can't think straight. The bat cracks down on my body again; I think something's ruptured.
Then, from the far side of the hallway, something shadowy appears. I hear Jacks drop the bat and take off. Dina and Jenny are right behind him.
The figure approaches me. I moan quietly, "Help... me..."
I hear the clunk of my head as it hits the floor. I've fallen unconscious.
"What do you have to say for yourself?!"
"AAAAAAAAGH!"
Just as quickly as I fall unconscious, so am I fast to wake up. My vision is blurry at first, and I can't see anything. Then, slowly and steadily, the world comes back into focus. I don't understand where I am.
I look around at my surroundings and notice that I'm lying on what seems to be a surgical bench with the medical helmet off and a fresh one sitting next to it. My head is lying on a soft pillow and I can feel stitches and staples stuck on my skull. My bandages, bloody from the vicious beating, have been changed again to reflect sweet new ones; I can see a rumpled red and white heap on the far side of the room. I notice that the tan pair of pants I was wearing and the shoes and socks I was wearing are gone. What's more, someone's standing over me with a needle and thread, sewing up my chest wound.
I swallow nervously as I see who it is. The person in question is wearing a mask much like that I saw when I was abducted from the hospital: a pig mask with a black wig. He's also wearing a bright red cloak and long, thin black gloves as he works. He looks over at me briefly, sees that I'm awake; I wonder what the expression is on his face. Is he happy? Is he angry? I don't know. I watch him turn another direction and wave at someone hiding in the shadows before he goes back to sewing me up. I'm too weak and too scared to react. What the hell is going on?
Someone else comes over towards us and stands over close to my head. I look at him and see a wrinkled old face surrounded by a thick black cloak with a red line around the rim. The man's mouth opens and he speaks in a soft, whispery voice, like he too is somewhat weak. "Hello, Griffith. I was wondering when you would wake up."
It hits me who this guy is: it's Jigsaw and one of his lackeys! They've got me!
"Let me go!" I stammer, but my voice is so weak it sounds like I'm nearly mute.
"Relax." Jigsaw takes a washcloth from a nearby pan and places it on my forehead. "It would be foolish to release you when you're too injured to go anywhere." He pauses while dabbing at my face; I feel the water trickling down slowly. "If anything, it would be too cruel to abandon you a second time."
"Abandon me?" Now I'm confused.
"In the room of gears, when you passed out the first time," Jigsaw replies. "I had my assistant patch you up. When we saw the assault happen I sent him to get you." He sets the cloth down and picks up the helmet. "Your friend misunderstood my words. I was referencing what came out in the newspaper about the incidents." He then places the helmet back over my head. I notice it's a falcon-like helmet, much like my old one. I relax, but only for a minute.
I realize there's something crumpled up in my hand. I want to look at it, but I can't; I'm too weak to even hold it up.
Jigsaw's expression doesn't change as he snaps the helmet's catches. "Your friends think it's nice to blame the one person who had nothing to do with it," he says. When he sees I'm still confused, he asks, "You haven't read the article you pulled off the wall yet, have you?"
I shake my head slowly. Jigsaw takes the crumpled piece of paper out of my hand and holds it up in front of me.
A Night of Unimaginable Horror, the article reads. At one in the morning, a massive barn fire broke out on Clover Lane. Firefighters responded to find the farmer, 38-year-old Ben Gully, dead inside with severe third-degree burns. He appears to have died of smoke inhalation. Also in the barn were Mr. Gully's five horses, who perished alongside him. It is thought that Mr. Gully was trying to save his horses when he was overwhelmed by the fire. The horses were unable to escape, resulting in their deaths. There is a strong suspicion that the fire was arson.
Also that night a massive accident occurred further down Clover Lane, about twenty miles away from the barn fire. The vehicles in the crash were a black pickup truck and a silver minivan. There were six victims and five fatalities in total. The fatalities were passengers of the minivan: Mr. Jack Li, his wife Rae, their two children James and Lily, and their dog Brutus. The last victim, a passenger from the pickup truck, was launched from the pickup's bed upon impact. He was found partially on the road and off of it, sustaining major injuries. He is currently in the hospital suffering from multiple broken bones, severe head trauma and is at the moment unconscious. He has yet to be identified. If anyone has any information please call your local sheriff's department.
I'm shocked. I don't know what to think. I remember the car accident, but not the barn fire.
Jigsaw sets that one aside before holding up a second piece of paper. "I have a friend out there who was kind enough to pass me this information," he says. "I think you should have a look. It will explain why they elected to use you as their sacrificial lamb through their tests." He frees my arm so I can hold it myself, though he still keeps it steady for me.
More Questions than Answers: Police this morning spoke to the passengers in the pickup truck to see if they could learn anything from the accidents that cost ten victims their lives last Sunday night. All five individuals pointed towards their last friend, the driver of the vehicle, as the cause of the accidents. Saturday's fire... (my vision swims briefly, meaning I end up jumping a bit) ...believed to be arson and murder; Mr. Gully's five horses were discovered to have been doped with heavy doses of a local tranquilizer, and the fire was started by what was initially believed to be a lit cigarette on the roof, but now has been confirmed to be a lit match rather than a cigarette. A pipe was discovered among the ashes; the owner remains unknown.
The driver, currently in the hospital, has been identified, but doctors have requested not to release his name until he has woken up. Police are waiting to question him. In other developments...
My heart sinks. My friends aren't my friends at all. They've blamed me for everything when in reality I had nothing to do with any of it!
Tears start leaking from my eyes. I'm so ashamed and shocked that I've started crying - right in front of the person who's been putting me through these tests. This entire time I've been used as the goat, the one person who was injured from the car accident yet still survived... and then blamed for everything.
I don't know how long I cry for. I almost start begging for death at this point, mainly because I can't go through the blame game any more. Jigsaw and his assistant don't leave my side. In the time that I cry, the assistant finishes sewing up my chest and starts bandaging it over again. Jigsaw doesn't move aside from gently patting my head or my shoulder.
"It all comes back now, doesn't it?" Jigsaw asks.
I nod. My head stings as the hospital comes rushing back at me...
