Amanda POV

Whatever fuckin' higher power in charge of making me suffer was a fucking genius. I could hear when Daniel finally came to, moving around inside the safe, trying to escape. I couldn't bring myself to leave the room; I just sat on the floor next to the safe and let the tears silently slide down my face. I placed my hand against the cold surface, wishing that he could just feel my presence.

This was the cruelest punishment I'd ever received. I hated not being able to help him, knowing he was probably scared out of his mind. When John came into the room, I quickly swiped at my eyes and left for my area, trying to pull myself together. I sat on my cot, shaking slightly. I tried to resist the urge, but it was no use. I pulled out my lockbox and took out my favorite knife. I pulled down my pants and slowly dragged the blade across my thigh. I made sure I worked as slowly as possible. I wanted to feel every second, pressing firmly and deeply into my skin.

When I was done, I pulled my pants back up and put everything away. I curled into myself on my cot and just wished for this all to be over soon.

When the day finally came for Eric's test, I was more relieved than anything else, not because I knew he would get what he deserved, but simply because Daniel would finally be freed from the safe. As I got ready to return to the house to wait in the bathtub, I glanced over at the safe. I walked over and placed my hand against it once more before leaving.

I hadn't expected Eric to work as fast as he did. As soon as I had injected him with the sedative, I placed his leg in the shackle and waited for him to awaken and play his tape. After sliding the door to the bathroom shut, I started walking, but I had to stop. The guilt was getting to me.

What would Daniel say if he knew that I left his father to die in the bathroom where he had killed Xavier? I couldn't stand the idea of him hating me any more than he probably already did.

And, regardless of how much I despised his entire existence, I felt a minute pinch of guilt for leaving Eric in there. Maybe it was because of all the time I had spent as a kid locked away in dark places.

I stood in one of the hallways, my hands practically pushing my eyes into the back of my head, just trying to convince myself to get the hell out of there and not turn around.

When I at last composed myself, I continued walking, but it wasn't long before I heard Eric's voice from behind me.

He had already made it out of the bathroom.

That was when I started panicking. My eyes darted around, trying to find the nearest exit, but I wasn't close to any of the doors. I hid behind a set of pipes and waited, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Once he had passed me, I thought I was in the clear, so I slowly made my way back out into the hallway.

The pipe shot to the chest told me I had been mistaken.

After the second blow, I tried to crawl away, but the son of a bitch was relentless, even sinking his teeth into my fucking leg. As he started bashing my head against a wall, he began asking me where "his son", even though Daniel was hardly that to him, was.

Right. Because I was definitely gonna tell this asshole where Daniel was so he could do something like this to him if god forbid Daniel were to piss him off.

I stayed silent until he called me a "junkie bitch", only because I knew I never would have been a fuckin junkie if it hadn't been for the piece of shit currently beating the shit out of me. When he asked again where Daniel was, I couldn't resist; Daniel and I were more alike, and more bound to each other than he and Eric would ever be. As I went to kick his injured foot, I responded,

"Right fuckin' here."

I tried to leave it at that. I wanted to leave it at that. I slowly started to make my way back out when I could no longer take his taunts.

"You're nothing! You're not Jigsaw, bitch!"

It was a combination of things that made me turn around and eventually beat the shit out of Eric Matthews, leaving him for dead.

It was the memories of my parents constantly saying the same thing to me he had just said, of trying and failing over and over again to get clean; it was my anger at the probability of never seeing Daniel again.

Once I left Eric, I went back to the van and just sat behind the wheel, thinking. If I went back to the warehouse now, John would no doubt ask me what happened, why my face was covered in blood.

Not really sure why I felt the need to torture myself, I made my decision and made a sharp turn in the direction of the hospital.

TBC