Disclaimers: I don't own Saw or any of the characters.
Other: Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it! I hope you all had a great time with your loved ones, and that you're all now stuffed and feeling like you're about to burst. XD I know I am! I decided to upload the third chapter. :) Also, I've finally decided on how long to make this story. This story is going to be ten chapters, I believe. It might be a bit longer, but for now, I believe ten is a good number for this one.
Enjoy reading this, and thank you for the reviews, they're wonderful! :)
I'm so fucking bored right now. I have no money, which means I can't really do anything outside my apartment. Because we're at a time where you have to pay to fucking breathe. Living in New York doesn't exactly help. You can't buy a pack of cigarettes for less than ten bucks. It's insane. Normally, I'd go and take a bunch of pictures to sell. But you'll never guess what the fuck happened yesterday. Dr. Shithead broke my camera. That's right. Lawrence Gordon. I was walking to go get those pictures of my neighbor and her boyfriend, when WHAM! I slam into him, because he's creeping outside my door. He's so tall and strong that he felt like a fucking tree, first of all, and he knocked me over. I landed on my camera, and it broke. Two thousand dollars were just shredded in front of my face. You'll never believe what happens next. I fucking fainted. Well, let me defend myself first. I'm so hungry that I'm considering going over to my neighbor and demanding for food. She's kind of a bitch, but I'm sure if I threaten to tell her husband, she'll be sending me back to my apartment with her refrigerator. Then, I haven't slept in about three days. I can't help it. Every time I close my eyes, I see that stupid fucking pig mask lunge at me. In my dreams, I'm back in the bathroom, chained to the wall. Lawrence is sawing his foot off, and I'm scared shitless. Would you want to sleep if you were only going to re-live that shit? Didn't think so. Anyway, his random and very unwanted appearance shocked me, and I guess the mixture of the three was too overwhelming. Prince Charming brings me into my apartment, as if he owns the place. And does he leave after that? No, of course not. He tries to fucking apologize. For what, you ask? For leaving me in that goddamn hell hole! THAT'S WHAT. He had the nerve to ask for my forgiveness. He was trying to defend himself by saying that he was just in shock. Bull shit. I was in shock after he shot me in the shoulder. But you know what I did? I saved his ass when that dude came in and tried to kill him. I KILLED someone to save his life! I fucking killed someone! I grabbed that toilet seat and beat him to death. I beat him with every ounce of fear, energy, and strength I had. He was a pulp by the time Lawrence grabbed my arm to stop me. You would think that after I saved his life, he would return the favor. But, no. He forgot about me. And if he thinks I'll ever forgive him, he's fucking wrong. It's pretty pathetic that I'm sitting here writing in a journal because I have absolutely nothing else to do. This is so – Goddamn it, someone's at the door. Probably my landlord. I've been blasting my music for the past hour. I thought he was at work. Holy shit, if he bangs on my door one more time, I'm going to lose it. Talk to you later, I guess.
Adam rolled out of bed, wearing a stained and wrinkled white under shirt, and a pair of black boxers. He slid the notebook under his pillow, ran his fingers through his messy locks, and began padding barefoot to the door. He smacked the power button of his boombox, and the music abruptly cut off in the middle of an amazing drum solo. The apartment fell eerily silent, the intense beat of the song still pulsing in Adam's head. The landlord continued knocking at the door.
"Holy shit, chill out, I'm coming!" Adam yelled, unlocking the door. There were four bolts, and then a lock on the door handle. After multiple clicks, Adam swung the door open and became face to face with a man who could've been a movie star with his good looks, but was instead a wealthy oncologist. Adam went to slam the door shut, but Lawrence stuck his foot in the door way.
"What part did you not fucking understand about 'leave and don't come back'? I thought I made myself pretty fucking clear," he snapped. Lawrence held up a white envelope, and a plastic bag. The smell of Chinese food was almost orgasmic.
"I promised to pay for your camera, didn't I? Here's the two thousand dollars. And I know you're hungry, so I brought some food. I hope Chinese is okay?" Lawrence said, his voice light. Adam took the envelope and tore it open. Sure enough, there's a check for two thousand dollars. He then moved to shut the door.
"What about the food?" Lawrence asked. Adam glared at him.
"I'm not hungry," he lied. He was obviously starving, but his pride came first. There was no way he was going to accept pity-food from Lawrence. If he thought that bringing him food would win his acceptance, he was wrong. Lawrence sighed.
"Adam, don't be stupid. I know you're hungry. You have no food in your kitchen. Just take the bag," he said. Adam shook his head and again began trying to shut the door. But Lawrence wouldn't budge. In fact, he pushed against the door. For nearly five minutes, they fought over the door, each one shoving from their end, yelling at each other. Finally, Lawrence managed to wiggle his way into the apartment, grunting in mild pain as Adam tried crushing him with the door in order to make him leave. But Lawrence was determined, and tripped inside.
"I'm not going to leave until you eat," Lawrence insisted, a bit out of breath. He walked into the kitchen and placed the bag onto the counter.
"Just because you brought me food doesn't mean that I forgive you," Adam snapped, grabbing the bag and going into the living room with it. He sat down on the couch and pulled a pair of chopsticks out of its paper wrapper, peering into the bag at what was inside. It took a great amount of self-control not to sigh in glorious bliss.
"That's fine," Lawrence said calmly, sitting down slowly onto a reclining chair, glancing about for cockroaches. He watched as Adam skillfully scooped the noodles into his mouth with the chopsticks. Interesting. The two were silent, Adam eating the Chinese food with great pleasure, and Lawrence watching him, lost in thought.
"Can you stop fucking staring at me?" Adam suddenly demanded, scowling. Lawrence blinked.
"Why?" he asked. The younger man shot him a glare before rummaging through the bag again, pulling out a coke zero. He popped it open and took a swig before setting it down on the cheap coffee table.
"Because it's making me uncomfortable; I don't like people staring at me," Adam grumbled. Lawrence was surprised that he'd even shared that. He didn't say anything, though, and instead nodded, looking away. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Adam relax a little, those grey eyes watching him. Then the unreadable gaze went back down to the sesame chicken.
"Adam, it was horribly cruel of me to forget about you. I myself don't know how I managed to do that. I guess it was just the shock of realizing I'd just sawed my own foot off, and the fact that I'd managed to get away and find help. I crawled out of the house, and across the road, just as a truck driver was driving by. He almost ran me over, but saw me at the last second, and pulled over. He brought me to the hospital, and we managed to get there quick enough to save my foot. When I woke up, my family was there, and all I could think about was how relieved I was that they were safe and alright. A detective came to speak with me, four days later. He asked me if I'd been alone in the room. And I just about had a heart attack. I panicked. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten you. I told him where you were, and he sent out a rescue team. The guilt and shame never left me. To this day, I'm still disgusted with myself. I promised to help you, and I broke that promise. I really am sorry. I know you don't want to forgive me, but as long as you know I'm truly sorry, I suppose I'll be okay with that," Lawrence spoke softly, looking at the ground.
There was a long silence, longer than he'd expected, and he looked up. Adam had pulled his knees up to his chest, his fingers of his left hand knotted into his own hair. He chewed on his food silently, his right arm curled around his body protectively. His expression was unreadable.
"Adam, I really want to make things right. I feel that we should be closer. We survived a torturous game together that had killed dozens of others. I know I messed up, and I'll never be sorry enough. There's no way to make up for my selfish mistake, I know, but –"
"Stop talking," Adam interrupted, glancing over at him. His eyes were cold, and it was obvious that he didn't care about what Lawrence had to say. He had no intentions of creating a friendship, or even an understanding acquaintanceship. In a way, this hurt Lawrence more than if Adam had actually said it. If he'd said it, the words could've been meaningless, or simply hiding what he truly felt. But the fact that Adam didn't even have to say anything, Lawrence just had to look at his face, was painfully stunning.
Lawrence got up, frustrated. He knew it would take a lot of time to melt the ice from Adam's angry heart. And, for reasons unknown, Lawrence would patiently work at it. He was determined to set things right.
Why should it matter? He knew for a fact that he wouldn't give Adam a second glance in public had they not been through a traumatizing kidnapping. Adam could drop a box full of pictures, and Lawrence would've walked right on by without hesitation. And why would he not? Adam was the scum of society. He was a poor voyeur, with vulgar language and an immature, rude, uncaring attitude and personality. Lawrence was a wealthy oncologist with manners. They were complete opposites. They would have never socialized. And as he gazed at Adam, he knew that Adam knew, too.
Maybe that was another reason why Adam wouldn't accept the apology.
But Lawrence couldn't help but care. He cared more than he should. And that was why couldn't just let Adam continue hating him. He had to make him understand how truly sorry he was. He did feel terrible. How do you forget about someone you'd shot and left behind? How do you forget about someone who'd begged you not to leave? How do you forget Adam Faulkner? The boy who'd looked so utterly confused and terrified chained to the rusty pipe, soaking wet and trembling like a puppy forgotten in the rain. The boy who had sobbed and screamed at Lawrence, insisting that he not saw his foot off. It seemed like he'd be impossible to forget. Yet Lawrence had managed to do so.
You had to look at it from another perspective, too, though. Lawrence had been in shock. He'd just chopped his own foot off. He'd crawled out of the hell house. His foot had been successfully placed back on. His family, who had been held hostage and had gone through traumatizing events, too, who Lawrence had thought had been killed, were safe and sound. He'd had the chance to be with them again. So many thoughts had whirled through his mind. The awe that he'd survived, the stunned amazement and joy that he had his foot back, the relief that his family was safe...The other man had been forgotten. For four days.
But Adam had gone through complete hell. He'd been isolated in that pitch-black, foul-smelling bathroom, alone, without food, water, or anything. He'd been shot by Lawrence, and was in agony. His wound had become infected. He'd been mocked and verbally abused by the psychotic serial killer. He'd probably lost all hope of being rescued after only a day of torture. He knew he'd been forgotten. He'd thought that he was going to die. It doesn't get much worse than that. Four days he'd been like that.
Adam had every right to be angry. Lawrence would've been angry as well. And it wasn't just anger that Adam felt. He was afraid, hurt, and traumatized. He was scarred. And no amount of time could heal that. That haunted look in Adam's large, child-like eyes would never leave. It didn't help that Adam lived alone in such poverty. There was really nothing Lawrence could do about that – he'd gladly offer to take Adam in, but it was obvious that the young voyeur would firmly decline.
"Look…I want to help you – "
"I don't need your damn help," Adam snapped, scowling, eating faster in his anger.
"And I'll do whatever it takes. I have to go to work. Here's my number, and my address. If you ever need anything, anything at all, please…please…feel absolutely free to call me or drop by my apartment," Lawrence continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted. He wrote the information down on a napkin and handed it to Adam. The young man refused to take it, or even look at Lawrence, so the oncologist set it down on the table, and walked to the door.
"Good bye, Adam," Lawrence said, a slight smile touching his lips. Adam swallowed his food, and set aside the empty carton. He drank from his can of soda.
Lawrence sighed and stepped out of the apartment, shutting the door behind him. After a couple of minutes, Adam slowly stood up and set the remaining food onto the table. There wasn't much left, and his once empty belly, cramped with hunger pains, was now beginning to feel full. There was a package of egg rolls and some beef and broccoli. Chinese food was one of Adam's greatest weaknesses. He loved it, despite how unhealthy it was.
The young man trudged to the front door and leaned against the rough wood. His forehead thudded against the hard surface. His left arm wound around his body tightly, while the right one reached up and locked each bolt precisely.
Then there was silence. The door was locked. And Adam was left alone, leaning against the door, hugging himself with one arm, while the other hung listlessly by his side. His stormy eyes drifted closed, and he allowed his thoughts to pull him into their deep, dark embrace. For better, or for worse.
I hope you liked this chapter! I rather liked the ending part. :) I'm planning on picking things up from here, throwing in a good fight, and some more conflict. Chapter 4 is going to be interesting...(; Alright, leave a review, please! Thanks for reading! I might update again tonight, simply because I'm in a writing-mood.