I shifted uncomfortably in the chair, eyes roaming the room around me. Anything to prevent myself from staring at the screens in front of me. The image was still the same as before; the man was strapped down onto a metal platform, arms and legs bound by leather straps. He kept tossing his head in his sleep, like he was having a bad dream. He hadn't seen anything yet.

I rubbed my eyes and listened intently, but the door wasn't yielding any answers to John and Hoffman's conversation. Fine, It didn't matter, I thought, I am here to observe the game, not find out the latest gossip from the Jigsaw gang. I turned my attention to the screens, but nothing had changed. As I sat there watching him in his fitful sleep, I realised that I felt little malice towards the man now strapped helpless to the platform. I had thought I would have felt something akin to anger, maybe even hate. But I was surprised at my own detachment from him. There was no sympathy only curiosity.

Was this how it was? Emotional detachment from the subject, only cool observation of events? I wasn't sure how I felt about such a role. I had always looked at the calm and collected individuals in my life as cold and unfeeling. Could I do this with emotions? Or would that only prove my undoing?

Listen to me, I thought, I am getting WAY ahead of myself. This was only the first game. It was too late to walk away even if I wanted to. I had chosen to see this through. In an odd sort of way, my fate was attached to this man's. My reaction would determine my usefulness to John's cause, and I don't know what he would do if I reacted badly...

I shook my head again. Just calm yourself River; it'll be what it's meant to be. But I didn't have time to deliberate anymore, the man had awoken.

Before we could continue our conversation, the door creaked open and River beckoned us through to the screens. The man was beginning to stir. The game was ready to start.

Stepping back from the screens, Mark watched River closely out of the corner of his eye whilst the game began to unfold.

He could hear dripping close by and scrunched his nose up at the sudden stench that assaulted his senses. He tossed his head to the side and reached up to waft the smell away, but his arms stuck in place. He opened his eyes, blinking into the light then searching for the obstruction. The cool metal of the platform caught his attention first. "What the fuck?" he whispered trying in vain to move his legs off the cold metal. He attempted to bring his arms up again but could only just see the leather restraints. Panic began setting in and he bucked ferociously on the table. "Fuck!" he yelled in frustration scanning the room until his eyes rested on the small camera in the far left corner, just above a TV set. "Hey! Motherfucker, come down here and face me!" he shouted in vain.

Suddenly the TV flickered and a screen popped up. A doll, dressed in a simple black suit and red bowtie turned its wooden head towards the screen. Its freakishly white features tilted until its red eyes seemed to look right into his.

"Hello Dan. I want to play a game. For years you have run from those you owe, but today these debts have finally caught up with you. No more running Dan. In order to survive, you must reach the key hung above you. If you do not do this in the next 45 minutes, the platform you are lying on will receive 2000 volts of electricity. I'd hurry if I was you, or else the shock may kill you. Let the game begin"

The screen fizzed and blacked out. A light flashed to a timer suspended on the right-hand wall and started its countdown. The clasps at his wrists snapped open and he immediately sat up, reached forward to try undoing his feet straps. But these were bound and no matter the struggle he could not pull them free. He looked above and saw the key dangling above.

Pushing down on the table he lifted himself up, snatching the key within easy reach. He unlocked his left foot but could only stare in horror upon realising that the other clasp had no keyhole. "Fuck! Fuck fuck!" he screeched tossing the key down. He yelled in vain as he tried once more to squeeze his foot through the clasp. Yelping in pain he slammed his fist down on the table, cursing. "What do you want from me?" he yelled at the camera. He sobbed searching the room for something else. Then he saw it.

Laid down beside the left of the platform was a hammer. A sledgehammer. He shook his head not wanting to believe his eyes, but understanding its purpose immediately. He didn't want to stop me from escaping; he wanted to stop me from running. He punched the table once more, staring in hatred at the camera. He looked at the timer. 15 minutes to go.

He screamed pulling at his straps, yelling at the camera, anything but reach for the hammer. Finally he breathed out in gulps, staring at the solid metal below him. He brushed away the dirt and tears from his face and started to reach down slowly for it.

He lay down until he was stretching to his limit, until his fingers grasped to wooden handle. He pulled himself up, and laid the hammer on his lap. His eyes flickered to the timer again. 5 minutes. Time to choose. He grasped the hammer in one hand, then both looking down at his trapped foot. One blow, maybe two then he was free. He could do it.

He breathed in deep, took one last look at swung. The hammer fell lightly on the side of the platform. He shook uncontrollably, sobbing into the material of his trousers. " I can't do it. I can't. I can't"

He stared one last time at his foot then started to raise the hammer once more. Too late. A bell shrilled out and the unmistakeable sound of a charging electrical current hit his ears just before the pain and the blackout...

Mark watched coolly as the man shook, frothing from the mouth, smoke rising from his body until the electricity stopped and the limp corpse collapsed onto the platform. But this concerned him little. He watched closely for River's reaction, but the only reaction was a slight paling when the smoke started rising from the body.

John moved past her, turning off the screens one by one. He moved round the back and started unravelling the wires and placing them neatly on the tables. River stood slowly, turned and walked out the door. Mark moved to follow, but John stopped him with a quick shake of the head which roughly translated to, "Give her a moment."

I breathed deeply, pressing my back to the wall just down the corridor. The smoke had been the only thing to break through my cool persona. Flashes of burning floorboards and blurry figures snapping across my vision but I quickly expelled them. It's not the same, I repeated in my head. This had cause; purpose, even if he had failed in the end. It just proved that he valued his lifestyle more than his life and that he was unable to do what needed to be done in order to survive.

So this was his method. To be completely honest, it scared the shit out of me; but fear was a good thing. It kept you alive, kept to smart, as long as you could control it and not let it control you.

Maybe I could do this after all...