Caveat: This story is completely fiction and has to do with what I thought was going through Adam's head where the movie left off. I do not own Adam nor anything else of the movie Saw. It rightfully belongs to James Wan and Leigh Whannell. I'm just an admirer of their brilliance. Thank you, please read, review, and enjoy.

A Different Kind of Hell

"Rise and shine, Adam. You're probably wondering where you are. I'll tell you where you might be. You might be in the room that you die in."

The days had come and gone and Adam was still alone. Still alone after all this time. Oh, how he would give anything to rewind his life. He swore he would be grateful for his life. He would give everything to get those days back again, when he wasn't alone. He was so afraid. The darkness had never bothered him, but now, for some reason, it terrified him. His stomach rumbled as he continued to lie helplessly against the old pipe. If only he had known about the key before he got out of the bathtub! If only...oh, but what good was regret now? The past is the past. He couldn't change what did.

He couldn't change anything about his life. Ever since his father died and his mother had abandoned him at the age of 16, he had lived by himself in what he thought should never be legal to call a 'home'. The dusty smell, the chipped paint, the stained carpets. But oh, how he missed those things now. He fell asleep.

Flashback. He kept having flashbacks of days ago when he first woke up in this hell-hole. Lawrence was with him then. He wasn't hungry or thirtsty then. But he wasn't thankful either.

Hours later, he awoke to the sound of his rumbling stomach. He was starving. And so thirsty. He lifted his weak arms as he pulled out a random photograph of Lawrence. Tearing off a part of the edge, he threw it into his mouth and swallowed it. He was certain the paper was the only thing keeping him alive now. But not for long. There was only a little bit left. The rest he had thrown to Lawrence and now they were far out of his reach. Fuck. He ignored the continuing moans of his stomach as his thirst for water took over. He couldn't last much longer without anything to drink. If he was really desperate, he would drink the liquid out of the toilet. But every time he stuck his hand in it, he couldn't find it in himself to drink it. The smell of whatever it was was repulsive. He hated this.

So now he sat in the old, decrepit, reeking bathroom by himself, with nothing to do except wait. Wait to die. He prayed that it would come quickly. He had been thinking a lot about God lately. If there really was a God, then maybe he could save him from this hell. And what if there wasn't? At least I'm trying something.

The darkness surrounding him was an epidemic, and he wanted so badly to see some sunlight. Hell, even the moonlight. He would never take it for granted again. There was so much he had learned to be thankful for, but now it was to late to change his life around. He was thankful for his few friends and for their company. He was thankful for any kind of company now. He thought of Lawrence. Where is he? Where is help? Adam thought to himself and he dozed off to sleep and then woke back up only seconds after. Did he even make it out of here? He promised...He promised he would come back with help. He looked up to Lawrence in a sick way. He had the courage that Adam would never have.

Flashback.

"What's your name?"

"My name is very fucking confused. What's your name? What's going on here?"

Adam felt so helpless now. He had stopped screaming for help two days ago, and had now excepted the fact that he was indeed in the room he would "die in". He wanted to cry, but he was too weak. He had cried for almost a day straight before he ran out of tears to shed. "Help." He muttered softly, voice breaking from the lack of making a sound. Unless, of course, you count a few sporadic coughs.

A sharp pain soared through his shoulder. He had almost forgotten about the bullet. He remembered how he wanted his life then, how he begged Lawrence not to pull the trigger. But now he wished that he would have put the bullet in his head instead of his shoulder.

He rested his hand down, touching the decaying corpse beside him. He pulled his hand away immediately. The smell was almost unbearable but it didn't take long for Adam to get used it. The game is over, Jigsaw. You win. You fuck.

Flashback.

"Up until now, you simply sat in the shadows watching others live out their lives. What do voyeurs see when they look in the mirror? Now, I see you as a strange mix of someone angry and yet apathetic. But mostly just pathetic. So are you going to watch yourself die today, Adam? Or do something about it?"

Adam fell asleep. Hopefully, he prayed, he wouldn't wake up.

He had been humming the same song for about an hour now, trying to keep himself awake. He had awoken not too long ago to the sound of what he thought was a scream. I must be crazy now. There was no one there. He was all alone. Damn his mind for playing such tricks on him!

It flashed through his mind like a strike of lightning. The gun. He remebered the gun that Zep had tried to kill Lawrence with. Too weak to stand to his feet, Adam crawled around, feeling the floor for the gun. Suddenly, he felt it against his fingers. There it is! He crawled back to his spot. As a tear fell. He was exhausted now and most of the feeling had left his body. This was it. He had hoped this wasn't truly the end, but he knew now that there was no other way. Resting his back against the pipe, he put the gun to his head. Game over.