Note: I apologize (once again, it seems) if this took longer then some of my readers would have liked. I needed time to set things up, plan, and relax a bit. But I am back, and I shall officially confirm that this story will go up to at least Act V. I am fully confident when I say that, for usually I get bored with my (full fledged and serious, anyways) stories and give up on them after a few chapters. But not this one; this story will finish the way I intend it to. Also, I'd advise everyone to stay alert around the 25th. The Saw VI poster should be coming out then, and the Saw VI trailer is due (supposedly) mid-July at comic-con.


Act III:
Scene i


A woman lay in the middle of a room. It was not lit by anything except for the dim light of the setting sun that made its way through the cracks in the walls. The room was dirty and had a bronze tint to it. The air was stale from the decaying wood that made it up.

The girl suddenly came to life and she sat up straight, gasping for air. She did not scream or shout, but her hands felt a shackle around her neck. A chain connected it to the floor. The woman yanked hard on the chain in a futile attempt to remove it.

"Help!" she finally screamed as, simultaneously, a pain hit her in the left side of her abdomen.

Her eyes widened as she whimpered. She saw stitches along her stomach. They made what looked like the outer edge of a half circle. However, she was more focused on the small bump placed to the left of the stitches.

"Someone help me!" the woman cried again as she looked to her side. A tape recorder lay directly next to her.

She picked it up and examined it for a moment. The cassette inside read in small letters: 'Play Me'. She quickly followed instructions and clicked the play button.

A deep and foreboding voice came from the recorder. However, it was not Jigsaw's. This voice had a touch of femininity to it and differed slightly from the tone of Jigsaw. However, it did not lack power in any way.

"Hello Christine," came the warped voice of Alison. "You don't know me, but I know you. In fact…you might say I walked a mile in your shoes."

Christine clutched the recorder tight as she continued to examine her backdoor surgery stitches. The bottom of her shirt had been ripped off to allow the woman full view of what had been done to her.

"The other day you stayed up late partying with your friends, even when you knew you'd be called into work the next day. But this wasn't the first time had done this. You've skipped out on crucial assignments that led to the death of your fellow SWAT teammates. And now, two more have died because of your…'fun'."

Christine eyes switched to the recorder. Her face showed fear and confusion to Alison's statement.

"You were too drunk to come into work that day. In fact, you were too drunk to even bother to call. So your identity was stolen for that day and eventually I ended up in your outfit, leading your friends Detective Kevin and Paula into my trap. You are the one responsible for what happened. You betrayed them once again. While they may be alive, they are currently in the agony of Jigsaw's trap…and your two SWAT teammates aren't so lucky. They lay dead and riddled with bullet wounds."

"No!" she screamed quickly. Her free hand clutched her head tightly as she tilted it back, gripping her black hair tightly.

"I want to play a game, Christine, quite similar to a game known as 'Operation'. Look down at the scalpel beside you," Alison said as Christine looked down to her other side. A scalpel rested neatly on the floor. "You will be, metaphorically of course, ripping out your own liver, the organ that is so contaminated with alcohol and guilt over the loss of your friends that it must be removed in order for you to continue living. Be quick, for if you do not rid yourself of your 'liver' in approximately 30 seconds, all of that remorse will explode. Live or die, Christine. Make your choice."

The recorder shut off and Christine quickly let it drop to the floor. "Oh my God!" she cried out. "What?"

She picked up the scalpel and pointed the tip to her stomach. "Please! Someone!" she cried again and she shook her head slowly as tears ran down her face. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Christine pled in vain like so many before her had.

Even through all her screaming and groaning, a ticking sound grew louder and louder. Christine quickly pinpointed its location.

It was the small bump next to her stitches.

She acted without hesitation this time. The scalpel blade submerged into her skin. Blood trickled down from the top of the blade and made two separate lines of blood that ran along her stomach.

"Aaaah!!" she screamed in pain as she clutched the scalpel handle with both hands.

Christine cut down slowly with the rusty, thin, edge. Skin ripped and blood squirted as she bit her lip tightly. "Aaaaaah!!!" she gave a horrific shriek as she began to curve the blade. She was so worried about the small bomb in her stomach that she didn't realize how deep the scalpel was going.

The tightly sewn stitches broke as blood began to soak Christine's pants.

She tossed the scalpel aside and gripped the cut wound with one hand and began to pull upward. "Come on!!" the woman cried as her other hand gripped her leg.

The ticking was as loud and rapid as ever. Her eyes looked down to the blood emerging from the wound as she squeezed her leg tightly. Her hand pulled up with great force. A large flap of skin was pulled back from Christine's stomach. The skin stretched and broke as the flap now dangled from the side of her abdomen. A large pool of blood gushed from the wound as Christine gave an awful cry from the horrible pain she was enduring.

Her cries were muffled from the explosion from the bomb. It quickly charred her skin and blew apart her torso. She fell back to the ground—completely lifeless.


"God damn it, John!" Grace screamed as the recorder she held in her hand shut off.

"Fuck you!" she threw the recorder across the room. It was pitch black, but she knew from the snapping sound that the recorder broke into pieces.

As it was thrown, a wire attached to it was pulled off and a small amount of light came into the room. It was a television set only a few yards from Grace that had suddenly turned on. Static could only be seen and heard, but it soon retreated and a rather disturbing puppet took the static's place.

"Hello, Grace. I want to play a game," the puppet seemed to say in the usual tone from the recordings. There was no feminine tone to Jigsaw's voice.

"I know you, bastard," Grace hissed as she bore her teeth.

"You want justice for Steven's death. You want all those who played a part in his increasing depression to suffer. This thirst for justice is equally as punishable as any one of the victims you've presented to me in hopes that they will die in a game. But how far will you search until an innocent person, whom you view as guilty, dies for this search for justice? Now I shall help you in this search. The darkness in this room represents how blind you are to the obsession quickly overtaking you. The chain attached to your leg is connected to a bear trap. The key, your 'justice', is inside this trap. But be careful…the slightest knock in the wrong part of the trap will set it off and leave you unable to set yourself free. I shall provide you with a small amount of light in your quest for justice as I always have. Hopefully you will see how…painful…this search can be," Jigsaw said with a chuckle as the recording ended. Only static remained that, as Jigsaw told Grace, provided a small amount of light to the room.

"Fuck you, John!" Grace screamed again as she tugged hard on the chain that connected the cuff attached to her foot to the bear trap that was stuck to the floor.

"Damn it, damn it! Shit!" she continued to swear as she inched closer to the bear trap.

Grace squinted as she looked down. A small bar rose from the center of the trap. The edges of the bear trap were razor sharp and tough. If this thing clamped down on her hand she'd need another person's help to get it off.

"All right. I'll play your game. I'll play your game you fucker!" she screamed as she slowly put her hand into the trap. She couldn't see what lay around the small bar, but she soon found out.

"Aaaah!" Grace cried out as she quickly bit her lip. Bits and pieces of broken glass went into her hand. "Ergh…" she murmured in pain as blood dripped down the shards.

She did it slowly though, letting her fingertips run along the spikes that stuck out from the bottom of the trap. "I'm gonna kill you, John. I swear I'm goinna to kill you," Grace muttered as her eyes jolted down to the trap.

Her hand quickly ripped out from the pile of glass with a key in between her bloody fingers. She didn't bother to pluck out the broken pieces. She quickly unlocked the cuff around her ankle and stood up, keeping the key in her hand.

Grace's eyes met with a shine from the front of the room. It was a door handle that had been placed to reflect the small amount of light the television was giving off.

The girl stopped walking and looked down at the television for a moment. Her hand still throbbed with pain.

"Aaaah!!" she shrieked angrily as she pushed the television set off its stand with her free hand and the side of her clutched right hand.

It fell to the ground and crashed. More broken glass grouped together on the floor as sparks continued to emerge from it.

"How's that for justice?" she said as she walked through the darkness to the door at the end of the room. She attempted to open it, however, it was locked. Grace felt around for the lock and quickly inserted the key into it and the lock came undone.

She turned the handle and opened the door. She wondered what further pain and torture Jigsaw had in store for her.


To be continued…