I sighed and tried to relax a bit, I was too tense. Hoffman watched my face intently, scanning for an answer. Living with a killer? Free help, but what were his real intensions? He must have things planned; he knows what he's going to do. He knows if I'll die tonight… or live tomorrow. Here I was, a poor alcoholic problem child just waiting to vanish from the world. I never thought of it like this, but before this whole sick incident, my life was the same thing over and over. Finally something new happens; a chance to turn my life around, even. I thought I didn't care about anything – why should I now? Living with a killer… it had a ring to it. Ha, I knew I was losing my mind. I'd been losing it ever so slowly and now I've accepted it. Fine, I'll move in with this mysterious, murderous… man. If he kills me in his sleep, okay. I don't care. I'm done. I probably would've committed suicide later on, anyway.
"...O-okay. I-I… I don't… care. I'll stay with you." I said in my smallest voice, look of deep regret written on my face.
He looked partially surprised, but concealed it quickly. "Good choice… so many would turn away such an opportunity…"
I sighed heavily and wished that he'd stop with his maddening philosophy of life. I'd only stay until I was better, though. Until I knew I could walk out and not try to get drunk. Then I could get a job and start over, staying with this guy was just a stepping stone. It was crazy - but what other choice did I have? He would provide me with food, shelter and no alcohol… it was almost perfect. Flash backs of my ordeal hit me every time I glanced at him, but I would get over it. So he tried to kill me, apparently it was with the best intentions… ugh, I knew there were holes the size of the Grand Canyon in my logic. Wait, what logic?
"Follow me," he said abruptly, interrupting my dizzying train of thought.
I was still too horrified and tired to react quickly. I finally gathered up my courage and responded as his fingers touched the door knob.
"Wait, I haven't gotten a chance to wash up… or even rest a bit! C-couldn't… I just-"
"You can when we get there. I don't live in a dungeon, I have a shower." He interjected, continuing to open the door and wait for me.
I stood there rather stiffly, shaking and over-thinking my decision. If he doesn't kill me after I walk through the door, then I'll trust him… for now, I thought to myself, slowly walking towards him. He held it open for me as I went through it, feeling his eyes watching me. I took a couple more steps forward, stopped and sighed. I put my face in my hands and stood for a moment, trying to calm down. I opened my eyes and saw that Hoffman was already walking down the stairs; I ran over quickly but stayed my distance. We walked in silence as he led me to his car; it was an old black '67 Chevy Impala. It was a nice car, but it reminded me of a funeral car; was I setting myself up? No one else would do this but me. It was very awkward getting into his car; do I sit in the front with him or the back? Both had faults; if I sit in front I'm sitting next to a serial killer. If I sit in the back I'll feel more like a serial killer's latest victim. It didn't matter; once he got inside he unlocked the passenger door. I hesitated and reluctantly climbed into the car and sat down on the surprisingly cushy seat. He started the car and sped out of the area, looking around every so often to make sure no one was following us. I sat as far away from him as possible and continued sobbing quietly. I was so exultant that I'd have free living and alcohol control… but I couldn't get over the whole Jigsaw thing. He made me angry, knowing everything like he did. He already seemed to know every detail about me – it wasn't fair. He knew enough to know that I would stay with a murderer if he provided me with the necessities.
"How do you know so much about me?" I asked, almost whining.
He didn't take his eyes off the road. "I'd rather explain things once we get there,"
"So you have more time to plan killing me?" I said darkly, shocked that I had any confidence left.
"I'm not going to kill you." He stated plainly, taking a sharp turn down an empty road.
I tried to believe him, but he'd attempted to already. Why was he helping me, anyway? It was all too suspicious, I could hardly stand it. Once again, a normalpersonwould've never done any of this. A normal person would probably have died of a heart attack by now.
"Where are you taking me?" I said shakily.
He didn't answer, it worried me. Finally he looked like he was about to say something.
"I'm bringing you to my place, where you'll sober up and start living your life." There was certain coldness in his voice.
I nodded and sighed, my muscles were aching again. That reminded me, I hadn't brought any pain killers or other personal belongings with me.
"Um, I need to bring a few things back with me if I'm going to live with you for a while… like my pain killers…" It felt weird actually confirming that I was staying with him.
"I have medicine there, you'll be fine." He said, coming to a stop in an abandoned-looking area.
He got out quickly and walked towards a big run-down warehouse. This was his homeBut I guess you shouldn't expect much from a serial killer. Ugh, that dreadful, over-used word shook my body. I needed better ways to think of him; Hoffman, that's his name, I should use it!
I got out and followed him around to the back of the warehouse. Some of the few windows were broken and boarded up; the paint was faded and cracked. He took out a rusted metal key and stuck it in a small door and entered the house. I followed cautiously behind him, it was dark and dirty here. He continued forward and entered another room while I studied this one. There were racks with either books or various metal pieces messily tossed on them. It looked a bit like a mini junkyard, minus the garbage and plus the scrap metal. I went through to the next room and what met my eyes made my heart thump violently. I almost gasped as I saw them; rows of strange mechanical devices… dummies and Styrofoam heads… guns, wrenches, anything scary or harmful – you would find it here. I let out a small sound of discontent and backed up against the wall. I must have been having a panic attack, everything reminded me of my ordeal and the horrors I'd witnessed. I curled up into a tight ball and shut my eyes.
"Madison!" Hoffman yelled from across the room.
"Leave me alone, I need a moment." I said in a muffled voice, trying to calm down.
I heard footsteps coming closer, maybe he didn't hear me. I raised my head up and saw a slightly worried Hoffman watching me.
"What are you doing?" He asked.
"Uh, look around." I retorted, standing up.
He gazed at the organized mess and then nodded.
"Well, anyways, unless you'd rather sleep here… your room's further down that hallway."
I murmured a weak "Okay," before trotting off to inspect my new home. I looked behind me one last time before heading down the hallway, he had disappeared. I wanted to run, but decided against it. I found a door and opened it eagerly. Inside it was not too big and not too small; there was a small bed and nightstand. The walls and flooring were still cold and uncomfortable, but I couldn't really complain. I sat down on the bed and opened up the first drawer in the nightstand. A bottle of pain killers were inside; how thoughtful… and unexpected. I twirled off the cap and took one. Inside the next drawer were a toothbrush and toothpaste, a hairbrush and a facecloth. It was so weird, I could hardly stand it. What was he, my Mom? I shiver ran down my spine. I walked out of my new room and went back through the hallway. I casually scanned the rows of mechanical contraptions, trying to figure them out. One of them caught my eye; it sat around a Styrofoam head and made it look like a sunflower, a rusty, gray, sharp metallic sunflower. I looked at the back of the head, there was a clockwork-like box attached with a wire stuck to a wooden board. It reminded me of how when Rick got out of his chair, the string connected to the chair and his belt broke off, which started the timer. I tugged hard on the wire, it broke and ticking started. My heart skipped a beat and I stepped back to watch the show. Tick, tick, tick… I waited, mesmerized. Suddenly, the razor petals plunged into the Styrofoam head instantly. My mouth was ajar and my eyes wide. What a horrible death…
"What the - hey! Don't go around touching things you don't understand!" Hoffman said gruffly, walking over and starting to reset the trap.
"S-sorry," I said weakly.
Note to self: get better as soon as possible.
A/N: Like it so far? REVIEW 6 TIMES OR NO CHAPTER 6. Last time I said review 5 times and I got 4, but I really wanted to add the next chapter. This time I'll only take 6. Thank you for reading! It's going to keep getting better. Oh, and sorry that it's a bit shorter than the other chapters.