Chapter 4: Water, Cigarettes And Tears
I woke up, and all I heard was a weird sound, like water that was dripping from a broken faucet. I didn't dare to open my eyes, somehow it was scaring the hell out of me, so I kept them shut tightly and moved a little bit. My whole body felt so heavy.
I listened to the dripping for a while, slowly drifting away to sleep again, but the sound got more and more intensive and suddenly I heard agonizing cries. I knew who was screaming before I even looked at him. It was Adam.
I opened my eyes. Everything was blurry, like I had just awoken from narcosis or something. I tried to focus on Adam. He was sitting on some dental chair, chained to it. No. Please. The chains looked so familar to me. Lawrence, get a grip on yourself, I thought. After all, there were plenty of chains like these out there. His chest was full of blood, coming from his shoulder. The gunshot wound I had stitched just a few hours ago had been torn open again and Adam was screaming in pain. Suddenly I noticed something else.
A man, wearing a long hooded cloak was standing with his back to me, he was doing something at a sink, I guessed that was where the sound came from. But now I could hear the water running. It looked like the man was washing something.
Suddenly he turned around and faced me. But I didn't really look at him. All I saw was the scalpel he was holding in his hand, blood was dripping from it and spattered all over the sink. Oh my god. My eyes slowly wandered back to Adam, I had still trouble looking at the scene in front of me.
"LAWRENCE! LAWRENCE!" Tears of endless pain were running down his cheeks and I saw that he had tried to escape the chains. His ankles and wrists were sore already. Suddenly I was fully awake. We were in some room and this guy must be Jigsaw.
"You fucking bastard!", I screamed at him, but he just turned his back to me again, continueing to wash his knife. I started to run towards them, but I fell flat on my face. Something was holding me back. I looked at it. I was also chained – to the wall. Right behind me was a HACKSAW, lying on the floor. Next to it was an old tape recorder – full of blood. Adam's blood?
I picked it up with shaky hands and pressed the PLAY button. And all I heard was a freaky – very familar – voice that echoed through the room.
"Welcome Dr. Gordon. The last time you were able to escape one of my games, even when you had lost. Congratulations, but. . . You and your little friend Adam here were supposed to be left in the room to rot. Well, Dr. Gordon, I want to play another game. But this time, the rules are different. I want you to make a choice. What do you think, doctor, are you able to saw off your other foot? You should be, otherwise Adam will be dead in less than 20 minutes. With every minute that goes by, I will cut his chest - again and again. How much blood does he have to shed to stay alive? How long can you watch him suffering, until you are willing to lose your other foot, too? Or are you just going to wait until he dies of blood loss? Live or die, Dr. Gordon. Let the games begin. . ."
"Fuck!", I screamed, looking at the scenario in front of me. "Adam!"
He cried, staring into nowhere in shock. I noticed a timer on the wall between me and him. It was placed clever so we both were able to see it.
It read 45 seconds. Just 15 seconds to the first cut. . . I thought. I looked at Adam in panic. "Adam!", I screamed. He didn't react. Fuck, I needed him to communicate with me if we wanted to get out of here. "ADAM! GOD DAMNIT, LOOK AT ME!" His eyes wandered to me slowly, he was in panic, too, and breathing hard. I had to calm him down.
"Adam, are you ok?" He shook his head, and it looked like – thank god – he was slowly recovering his senses. "ADAM, ARE YOU OK?", I screamed again.
Thank god. "No. . .", he cried. "Lawrence, don't do it, please. Don't do it. Just wait until I'm dead and go back home, ok? Please." Tears were running down his face and his eyes were telling me something else. I could see fear and pain. And black despair.
I slowly sat down on the cold floor and looked at the timer again. 56 seconds... I took the hacksaw and looked at it. It was exactly the same which I had used to saw off my foot back then in the bathroom.
58 seconds. . . I looked at Adam again. He was closing his eyes, constricting every muscle of his body. No. . . I thought. No. . . "ADAM!", I screamed again. 1 Min.
Ratsh! A deep cut was bleeding on Adam's chest, almost next to his gunshot wound. He screamed in pain. Suddenly he choked and started to throw up. Fuck.
"ADAM, LOOK AT ME, COME ON!", I screamed, trying to take his mind off the pain. He finally was able to breath again and looked at me.
I glanced at the timer. 1 Min and 32 seconds. My eyes wandered back to Adam who tried to escape his chains again. "LET ME GO YOU FUCKING BASTARD!", he screamed, squirming, with all the strength he had left, to get away. I could see blood coming from his left ankle because of all his fighting against the chains.
"ADAM!", I yelled. "ADAM, GOD DAMNIT!"
He looked at me again, his eyes widened in horror. He had stopped crying. I had to talk to him in a calm way. Ot herwise he would probably freak out.
"Adam. . .", I shortly glanced at the timer again – 1 Min 48 seconds. I had to talk fast. "Adam. . . Don't convulse your body, ok? It won't hurt that much then. Ok? Please, Adam. Try to relax. Please. Do it for me."
I could see all the hope he had left vanishing in his eyes. He started to cry again, with despair. But he was trying hard to realx. 2 Min.
RATSH. Another cut, even deeper than the first one, showed off on Adam's chest. He screamed, but not for long, he was panting for breath after a while, looking at me desperately.
The moment our eyes locked I stopped thinking. I took the hacksaw and started to cut into my flesh deeply – once again. Adam mustn't die.
I could hear somebody laughing and Adam crying for me to stop. "NO! LAWRENCE! DON'T. . . WHAT ARE YOU DOING? FUCK WHAT ARE YOU DOING! WHAT ARE YOU DOING. . . WHAT . . . NOO. . . NO. . ."
I ignored him and went on. I could hear the laughter getting louder and Adam throwing up again. The pain was even worse than the last time. Blood was spattered around and it bled even more because I wasn't using any tourniquet.
"NO! NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!"
And I woke up. The nightmare was over. I was breathing heavily and Adam's screams were still echoing in my head. I didn't dare to open my eyes yet, afraid of what I would see. Maybe everything had been reality. . . No, Lawrence, I told myself. It was a dream, a stupid nightmare, like the ones your daughter always has.
Still with my eyes shut tightly, I touched my left foot, the one that had been chained in the dream. No chain. Thank god. I slowly opened my eyes and looked around. I was still in the hospital room. Everything was ok - but - Adam's screams were real.
He was lying in his bed, struggling, crying, screaming, yelling. "LAWRENCE, NO, GOD OH MY GOD, NO, NO, NO!" I could see tears on his cheeks, pouring down and sickering into the pillow which was already wet from crying.
But his eyes were shut tightly. He was probably dreaming – just like I did before. I got up quickly, sat down on his bed again and grabbed his arms. I pressed them onto the bed because I wanted him to calm down, but it didn't work.
"Adam!", I said, shaking him. "ADAM!" He cried, trying to push me away, still half asleep, but this time I was prepared for something like this and he didn't manage it.
"ADAM!" I shook him wildely. He opened his eyes, still crying a little and panting for breath. He wasn't fully awake yet, so the first thing I did was forcing him into a sitting position and wiping the sweat off his face. He was breathing hard, blinking sleepily. He grabbed my arm, held on to it and leaned his head on my shoulder. I didn't say anything, there wasn't really much I could say. I couldn't take the fear caused by Jigsaw's fucked up game away from him. It had just been too much for him to handle.
He was calming down, which probably meant he realized that it had just been a dream. Thank god. After a while his breath got calmer, his hair was all wet from sweat. He was shaking, but that was because of the fear, I guessed.
We sat like this for a while, me sitting on the edge of the bed, Adam holding onto my arm and leaning on me. I stroked his wet hair.
"Are you ok?", I asked him, talking quietly.
He slowly nodded, grabbing my arm even tighter.
"How you feel?", I continued. I wanted him to talk to me a little, we had to start talking about what happened. I wasn't planning on talking about everything now, but maybe we could start up with the dream he had had just before. I wanted him to understand, it was hard to understand, even for me, but he had to, if he wanted to recover from the trauma he was suffering from. And maybe talking about it would make it a little easier for him to handle everything right now.
"Dunno. . .", he said weakly. "Groggy. Really, really groggy and tired.", he mumbled.
"Yeah. . .", I said, "We had to operate your shoulder, we put you to sleep, I guess it's because of the narcosis we gave you."
He nodded, taking a few deep breaths. "Lawrence?"
"Yes?"
"I wanna go home. . .", he whispered and huddled up against me.
I stroked his hair again. "Yeah, soon, Adam, soon. But not yet.", I whispered back. Sure he wanted to go home, after everything he had gone through he probably just wanted to light a cigarette and relax in his own bed at home a little, I guessed. I wanted to go home to do just this, too, and I even wouldn't say no to a cigarette right now, although I was against smoking. But right now I really wouldn't say no if somebody offered me one. Maybe I would get some later at the small hospital kiosk on the first floor, it was opened 24/7 anyway.
My leg was throbbing and I knew it would be best if I just lay down in my bed, like Adam. But I would stay with him, only for this night.
I looked at my wrist watch. It was 3:50 AM. I decided against asking him about the dream, because it was better if he just went back to sleep. We wouldn't be able to have a good conversation anyway, since the narcosis was still doing it's job.
"Wanna go back to sleep?", I asked him quietly. He shook his head, clinging to me again.
"But you're sooo tired, Adam. . . Come on. . . Just close your eyes for a few more hours. Just a few more hours." He shook his head again, but he looked so sleepy that I went on trying to convince him otherwise.
"I'll stay with you this night. I'll stay right here next to your bed and you just close your eyes and go to sleep for a few more hours. Ok?" No success.
"No. . . ", he whispered. He was so dazed with sleep that I was sure he didn't even understand what I meant.
"I want a cigarette. . .", he mumbled. I stroked his head.
"Not now. . .", I told him, "You can smoke again when you're healthy."
"But I NEED one. . ."
"Yeah, I know. . .", I said. "But you can't smoke now, Adam. You can't."
"I've been smoking for 7 years, I need a smoke now.", he grouched. "I need it, Lawrence, please, Lawrence, please. . . Please. . ."
He was suffering from pneumonia, I couldn't let him smoke now. I had to stay hard, even though it was difficult because I knew how he felt and that his body was probably screaming for some nicotine.
"I know you need it, Adam.", I stroked his hair to calm him down a little. "But it's just not possible right now. Come on. . ."
"I haven't smoked for such a long time. . .", he almost cried.
"Adam, I know, come on, get a grip on yourself. It's just addiction.", this was getting on my nerves.
He started to cry a little. Why the hell was he crying now? "Adam. . . hey. . .", I wrapped my arms around him tightly. "It's not that bad. . . come on. . . It's just addiction. . ."
Everything was just too much for him. I stroked his hair. "I need one, Lawrence, please. . .", he was grouching again. "Please. I need it. It hurts so much, please, I need it. Please, I need a cigarette, please. . . It hurts so much, please. That hurts so much, please. Oh please. . ."
"What hurts you?"
"Please. . . I need it. . ."
"Adam, what's hurting you?"
His hand wandered to his shoulder and he pressed against it, breathing hard in pain. Now I understood. The painkiller we gave him shortly after the operation probably wasn't working anymore.
"Ok. . .", I whispered. "Want me to make it alright?"
He nodded, still holding his shoulder in pain. "I need a cigarette. . .", he told me once again.
"I know. . .", I said. "Lie down again, come on."
He shook his head and clung onto me. "I'll be right back, Adam. I'll just get you a painkiller. Ok?"
He nodded and lay down carefully. I took my crutches and left the room.
This was all way too much for Adam. He desperately needed some sleep, the narcosis was still working and fighting against it certainly wasn't good. I made my way down the stairs to the first floor. I passed the kiosk and entered the medication stock.
I grabbed some strong tranqulizer that would make him sleep and a painkiller. I also took two syringes, I'd better inject him. I was afraid he would throw up if I gave him any pills.
I went back into the hallway, I stopped and looked at the kiosk. No, I wouldn't get him the needed cigarettes. I had to stay hard. He suffered from pneumonia, I couldn't let him smoke just like that. . . Oh fuck it, I thought. After everything he'd gone through he certainly deserved a smoke. I bought some Marlboros and went back to Adam's room.
He was still lying in bed, holding his shoulder in pain and staring to the ceiling. I sat down on the edge of his bed again.
"Adam. . ."
"Yes?", he said.
"I want you to hold still now. You think you can do that?"
He nodded, looking at me fearfully. "I'm not gonna hurt you. . .", I told him, "I'll just inject you something against the pain. It won't hurt."
I filled the syringe with the liquid painkiller. "Come on. . .", I told him, "Take off your shirt."
He had trouble doing that because his shoulder was aching so much, so I put the syringe aside and helped him a little.
"Ok, here we go. . . Hold still, ok? It's just a little prick. Try to relax, then you won't feel anything."
I carefully pricked into his muscle. He winced a little. "Relax. . .", I told him once again. When I was finished I helped him putting on his shirt again. "See, wasn't that bad. . . It will be better in a few minutes. . ."
He lay down again and took a few deep breaths.
"I've got a little surpise for you. . .", I told him, smiling.
"What is it?", he asked.
"Wait and see. . ." I took the cigarettes out of my pocket and gave him. He let out a sigh of nameless relief. "Thanks. . .", he whispered.
"No thanks. You deserve these.", I told him. I took the cigarette packet out of his hands, opened it and gave him one of these cancer sticks and a lighter. I felt a little bad because he certainly wasn't in such a good condition that he was able to smoke again. I secretly hoped the smoke would hurt his lungs because of the pneumonia, so he wouldn't want the cigarette anymore. He was way too young to have such a terrible habit.
He lit the cigarette and took a huge drag. He let the smoke rest in his lungs for a while until he breathed it out, smiling with relief. It seemed to calm him down a lot and ease all this pain he had. Maybe it wasn't that bad after all.
"Is it good?", I asked him, looking worried. It still was a big risk because of his pneumonia.
He nodded, smiling. I had never seen him smiling that happily before. He took another drag, and suddenly he had to cough and held his chest.
"Hurts a little, eh?", I asked him.
"Yeah. . . But it's alright. . . It's great. . .", he whispered, "Thank you. . ."
"It's ok. . .", I told him, "Just stub it out if it hurts too much." He nodded, but it didn't seem to hurt him a lot.
"Had a bad dream before?", I asked him quietly. Maybe we could talk a little since he was calming down now.
He nodded and took another deep drag of his cigarette, like it was the only thing that comforted him. I realized that his hands were suddenly shaking and sweat started to appear on his forehead again.
I had to go on asking, no matter how hard this might be for him. "What was it about?" He stared into space, not answering my question. "What did you dream of?" He slowly shook his head, and it looked like he was about to cry.
I carefully touched his arm to give him a little comfort. "Did you dream of the bathroom?"
He nodded and a tear made its way down his cheek. "Ok. . .", I whispered, I took his hand into mine. He desperately needed some comfort now, and I kind of was the only who was able to give him. I knew what he had been going through. "What happened in the bathroom?", I whispered, I carefully touched his artery to feel his pulse. It was banging fast against my fingers.
He took another huge drag of the cigarette. His eyes were scanning the room in fear as if he expected something terrible to happen.
"What happened in your dream?", I asked again. I could feel his pulse going faster. It was agonizing to feel his fear, but I knew I had to do this. Otherwise I would never see him smile without any worries ever again. And I wanted to see this so desperately after all those hours I saw him cry.
He didn't answer my question. A few more tears made their way down his cheeks. He shook his head again and sobbed. "It's ok. . .", I told him, grabbing his hand tightly now. I was still controlling his pulse, so we could stop it before it got out of hand. "Everything's ok now. . . You can tell me. . . Nothing's gonna happen to you, I make sure of that. . . I'm here to protect you, Adam. All night long. You know that, don't you?".
He nodded and looked at me insecurely. For a moment I could feel his pulse slowing down a little. He took another drag of his cigarette with shaky hands.
"We. . . we were in that room. . .", he told me, crying. I nodded and he grabbed my hand even tighter. It was hard for me to realize how scared he actually was. "And. . . And you. . .", he shook his head wildely as if he wanted to shake off all these bad thoughts he had.
I knew what he had dreamed about. But I wanted him to tell me. "What did I do. . .?", I asked carefully.
"I. . . I. . . I don't know. . . I don't know what you did, ok? I don't know that, I don't know, I don't know that, I don't know what you did, I don't remember, I –", he broke down in tears. I reached out to give him a hug and he fell into my arms, crying and repeating those words over and over again. "I – I don't remember this, I don't know this anymore, ok? I forgot, yeah? I forgot it. . . I just forgot this. . . I'm sorry, I forgot it, I forgot it, ok?"
"Yeah, that's ok. . . Shhhh. . .", there wasn't anything else I could think of. I took the cigarette out of his hand and stubbed it out. I wanted him to tell me so desperately, but he obviously wasn't able to yet. Suddenly I felt sorry for what I forced him to think about.
He stopped crying all of a sudden and I could feel his breath going fast and irregularely against my neck. He wrapped his arms around me. This was probably hurting him a lot since he was injured, but he held on to me tightly.
I hugged him tightly, too, although I wasn't really happy about what he did with his recent operated shoulder. I felt him wincing in pain, his breath still going fast. His heart was beating like hell.
I carefully caressed his back to calm him down, his entire body was shaking.
"Law – Lawrence?", he whispered.
"Yes?"
"Are you ok?" I hadn't expected this question.
"Yeah. . . Sure, Adam. . . Sure. . . I'm alright. . .", I told him, even though it wasn't true. My leg was throbbing and I was damn tired, but I had to be there for him now, no matter what.
"This hurts so much. . .", he whispered and I could feel his body tense.
"Yeah, but it's gonna be better soon. . . Just wait a few more minutes." I whispered back.
"Is it bleeding?", he asked. What kind of weird question was this? I frowned.
"Um. . . No, Adam, we stitched it.", I reassured him.
"Ok. . .", he whispered. "But it hurts so much. . ."
"I know. . . And I'm so sorry, Adam. . . This is all my fault." I felt weighed down by guilt. I had shot him, I was the reason for his pain, for his crying. He had to see things, things which were more than just too much for him to handle. He was unable to cope with everything that happened.
I could feel his body tense again.
"Relax. . .", I told him, leaning my head to his. "Just relax." He started to cry again. I didn't know what to do anymore, I just kept stroking his back to comfort him.
I turned my head a little so I could whisper into his ear. "Just relax. . ."
"Why?", he cried.
"The pain will just get worse otherwise. . .", I whispered.
"Why does it hurt so much?"
"Because it's not healed yet. . .", to be honest, this wasn't really the best explanation, but it was the most gentle one I could give. I didn't want to tell him that the bullet had gone right through his shoulder and destroyed this and that. It would have made him even more scared than he already was. He needed answers to his questions right now, indeed, but I had to tell him everything as gentle as possible, otherwise he would probably freak out.
He started to cough into my chest. I carefully pushed him back into a lying position. "Lie down, Adam, come on, lie down again." He shook his head and wanted to fight me, but the pain wouldn't let him.
"What – what... what are you doing?", he cried, his eyes widened in fear.
I took the other syringe and filled it with the tranquilzer. Adam was breathing heavily.
"No. . .", he stuttered, "No. . . I. . . I wanna. . . no. . . NO!"
I touched his cheek carefully to calm him down. "What is this?", he asked, still frightened.
"Just against the fear. . .", I whispered. I didn't want to be too honest, somehow I knew he wouldn't let me inject if I told him that it would also make him sleep.
"Give me your arm. . ." He didn't move.
"You sure?", he asked, looking very serious suddenly.
"Yeah, Adam, I'm pretty sure. . . It will just calm you down. . ." He didn't trust me. Well, that was understandable in some way, I wouldn't trust a person who had shot me just a few days ago, either.
"What if you're lying?" he whispered, watching my hand with the syringe closely.
"I wouldn't lie to you. . .", I whispered back. Our eyes locked and he slowly nodded. "Ok?", I asked quietly.
I carefully took his hand into mine and pricked into his vein. I felt him grabbing my hand tightly as I did this. "It's ok. . .", I told him the moment I pulled out the needle. I looked at him, tears were running down his cheeks again.
I put the empty syringe aside, still holding his hand to make him feel a little bit safer. I caressed his cheek carefully. "It's just too much, eh?", I whispered. He nodded, but wasn't crying anymore. The tranqulizer was already showing its effect – thank god.
"Does your shoulder still hurt?"
He shook his head. "A little. . .", he said weakly.
"Is it bad?"
"No. . . Not anymore. . .", he said, staring into space.
I reached out and carefully touched his bandaged shoulder. He backed away in fear, but relaxed when I just let my hand rest on it. I only wanted him to trust me a little, maybe this would help.
"I'm so sorry about that. . .", I whispered, stroking slightly over the bandage.
There was a long moment of silence. I wished nothing more than that he would just tell me that it was ok or something. But I guessed it wasn't ok, not at all. Maybe he'd forgive me some day. I felt tears welling up in my eyes again. No, Lawrence, you mustn't cry, I told myself as I was fighting back tears of guilt. I had to be strong for Adam. I was the older one, the one who understood what happened, wasn't I? I was a grown-up, I had to protect him, protect him from everything that happened.
"Lawrence?", he asked, his voice sounding like he would fall asleep any second.
"Hm?"
"I'm. . . I'm so tired. . .", he mumbled and grabbed my arm.
I carefully put my hand on his chest to control his breath a little without making him scared. He would fall asleep soon now and I didn't want him to dream again, so I had to make sure that he would remain calm now.
"Yeah. . .", I whispered. "Close your eyes. . . just for a few minutes, Adam."
He shook his head and I could feel his chest moving up and down under my hand. His breath was calm because of the tranqulizer, but when I studied his eyes for a moment, I could still see a little bit of fear.
"Why not?", I asked quietly.
"I don't. . .", he yawned and blinked sleepily, "I don't wanna go to sleep."
"You don't have to.", I told him, "Just close your eyes and relax. . . Just for a few minutes, Adam, please. . ."
"But you won't leave me, will you?", it sounded as if he'd know that he was going to fall asleep as soon as he would close his eyes.
I shook my head. "No. . . I won't. I'll stay right here with you. All night long. I promise."
He nodded, yawning again. I gently touched his cheek. He closed his eyes and I somehow knew that he felt save now. Save because I was there. And it gave me a feeling of pride, a father's pride, as if he would just make his first steps. I didn't know why, but I felt myself melting into a puddle of Daddy, even though he wasn't my son. But that didn't matter to me, the only thing that mattered was Adam right now, finally falling asleep without any fear. And just because I was THERE.
"Everything's ok. . .", I whispered. "You can close your eyes and go to sleep now. Nothing will happen to you, I make sure of that."
He nodded, eyes still closed and already half asleep. I bent over, my hand still resting on his cheek, and kissed him softly on his forehead. I grabbed his hands to show him that I was actually really there, watching him in his sleep, all night long, like I had promised, even though he didn't realize that anymore because he was already fast asleep by that time.
Miles and miles away, a tall, thin, but yet not skinny man, wearing a dark long hooded cloak was pacing nervously in an almost empty room. He was talking to himself quietly, coughing violently now and then. Suddenly he stopped, turning his face to the only source of light in the almost compeltely dark room, a very small naked light bulb. He clenched his fists while saying one last sentence loud and clearly to himself, before he turned around and rushed out of the door.
"I won't let you win that easy.", his rusty voice echoed through the dark chamber