All Adam could hear was silence.
Everything was swallowed up by endless nothing. By a void that he had become far too acquainted with in the tiled bathroom.
Maybe he had finally died there. In the room Jigsaw said he would.
Then he felt something prodding his face.
He was slouched over, resting against a bunch of sharp points.
At first, that's all they were. Little points.
Then it all rose to the surface.
His eyes snapped open.
The pain was overwhelming.
Chains dug into both of his ankles, even tighter than the one he became used to in the bathroom. Every fidget burrowed the metal into his skin. He stuck his hands out to feel around in the pitch-black space, sending his palms into spikes. He recoiled and slammed his back into even more pins and needles. He felt something begin to trickle down his back.
"Help me!"
Adam's shrill voice bounced off the walls. This dark, cramped room was even more suffocating than that disgusting bathroom he had just fallen asleep in. And now he was here, with no idea of what to do, and he wanted more than anything to finally go home to the shithole apartment he missed so much, and…
Pain. So much pain.
It was overwhelming.
Adam whimpered as he looked around for something familiar.
Although that would be useless. It was pitch black, just like the bathroom.
But he wasn't there anymore. He could just tell. The way his voice echoed here, it was different. The familiar feel of the pipes against his back and the dirty tiles under his feet, gone.
All of it was gone.
The only things that weren't gone were the swimming figures in the endless abyss. Taunting him, laughing at him just like they always had been. For days now, it was just them. And it was only a matter of time before they would reach out at him again, grab him, and suck him into his home of darkness and—
A light turned on, blinding Adam.
The shapes were gone. At least for now.
He instinctively went to shield his eyes, but only sent his hands into more spikes. He drew them to his chest, gritting his teeth, and waited for his eyes to adjust.
He wasn't in a small room.
It was a coffin.
He was in a coffin.
At his eye level was a slit in a heavy metal wall in front of him. Through it, he could make out a door, a digital timer, and a bulky TV set. The light above him shone off the tight metal shackles on his ankles.
Blood stained their surfaces.
The chains connected to a box with two bright red buttons.
And in front of him—
Adam gasped at the bed of nails along the wall, sharp side pointed right at him. Some of them were already painted with his blood.
He hated nails. Had been afraid of them for as long as he could remember. When he was still in school, the other kids would make fun of him for it. Constantly teased him every time they found a loose nail in a bench near the playground, or when they wanted to go out and use them in more-dangerous-than-hilarious pranks.
He had always flinched at the mere sight of them.
As a kid, he was stabbed with one by his friend, Scott. On Adam's sixth birthday, Scott decided to take out his anger when Adam got a toy Scott wanted. Adam had offered to share, but it wasn't enough.
Nothing was ever enough for that kid.
Adam reeled back — just like he did as a child — and felt more spikes against his back. He carefully turned around, wincing as more nails rubbed into his arm.
He let out a shaky breath.
The wall behind him was also covered.
An endless field of nails on either side.
Leave. He needed to leave.
"Get me the fuck outta here!" Adam screamed out and looked around, placing his fingers between the nails, against the board. He pushed as hard as he could. He kept readjusting his fingers in a vain attempt to get better leverage, but he lost his grip and—
His hand slipped. Nails stabbed his palm.
He yelped and yanked his hand back.
Blood rolled down his arm.
He darted his eyes around the wall, looking for something. Anything. He clutched his hand and brought it up to his chest. Anything to stop the blood.
As if that would do anything to protect it.
He heard a creak.
Adam looked through the narrow slit, his only portal to the outside world. The door had opened, its dark exterior replaced with dingy walls and peeling wallpaper.
He shifted his gaze down.
He jumped and had to catch himself from falling into the nails.
A terrifying puppet on a tricycle stared at Adam, trapped in his little box, as it rode into the room.
Its black hair was sticking up in some spots — just like the hairs on the back of Adam's neck — and it had red spiral makeup on it protruding cheeks to match its lipstick.
It was giving him the same belittling stare it had given him in his apartment so long ago.
A memory he would've rather forgotten.
A shiver ran down Adam's spine.
It smiled at him just like last time, too.
He had beaten the crap out of that thing. Put all of his strength into whacking it with his bat until it finally shut up.
But it rode in despite his best efforts, on its own, right over to Adam.
And it spoke.
"Hello, Adam."
Adam grit his teeth.
"I'd like to play a game."
The puppet's mouth bobbed up and down mindlessly. That stupid smirk came back every time its lips touched.
Adam yelled, "Who the fuck are you?"
"You played before, but your first test was greatly… problematic. So instead of letting you rot away, I decided to give you a second chance at redemption."
Redemption?
Adam lived alone. He did his job — taking pictures of the scum of the earth for equally scummy clients — and went home at the end of the day to do it all again tomorrow. He did a few things for friends sometimes, too. Little favors he never expected to be paid back for.
What did he need to redeem within all that?
"When the timer in front of you begins, a deadly nerve agent will be released into the air. You are not far from your last test, and you are kindly testing it out for my next group of subjects."
Adam's brows shot up.
"'Nerve agent?'" he echoed firmly.
"In one hour, you will start to feel its toll. And in two… well…"
Adam tried to step back, and the chain on his left ankle dug further into his skin. He grit his teeth and kicked out of instinct — as if that could possibly do anything. He lost his balance and stumbled back, shoving him into nails.
He yelped.
"I strongly recommend you do not wait and find out. Or you will be left again, as the agent takes its devastating toll on your body. And this house will be your tomb, as you rot here instead."
He shouldn't be here. That's all he could think about.
Adam's aim in the last stupid little game was to live. And he passed. Was this what "winning" these games meant? Was he supposed to do these until he took his last breath?
He should've let Lawrence kill him from the start. Could've freed the doctor and his family right then and there. And no one would miss Adam.
He shouldn't be here.
"But there's a catch."
There was always a catch.
But if getting out of this meant he had to keep playing, what was the point?
"I just wanna go home," he choked out.
"Perhaps you remember your old friend, Doctor Gordon."
Adam's eyes shot open.
"Lawrence."
Lawrence was dead. He had bled out long ago, forever bonded with the halls just outside that bathroom.
Gone. Dead and gone. His blood had stained the floor of the bathroom, and probably that hall too. And that's assuming their captor didn't kill him after locking Adam away.
"He is still alive. And only you can keep it that way, Adam."
The television behind the puppet cut to static. The picture morphed into view.
Adam cried out, although he couldn't remember the sound.
Lawrence.
There he was. The man Adam had learned to trust, the one he had killed for.
The shaking, terrified, broken man was on the screen in front of him.
Alive.
"Lawrence!" Adam screamed.
"When that timer reaches zero, the device he is hooked to will go off, and he will be left to fade to nothing right alongside you."
Adam's shaky knees buckled.
He tumbled down, his legs banging into nails. He wailed and fought to stand again. Fought to keep his eyes on that shitty screen.
Lawrence was sitting down, tied down to a chair with something coming out of his arm. Clearly unconscious.
And clearly left alone.
Adam felt sick to his stomach.
"You stay away from him!" he snapped.
"The path will lead you to both the antidote and your way out of these games, once and for all."
The way out? Fuck the way out.
He needed to get Lawrence out of there first. Adam needed so much from the doctor when they were in that bathroom. Between all his hissy fits, he was surprised Lawrence hadn't shot him sooner. On the contrary, Lawrence tried to help every step of the way.
Adam had to return the favor.
He needed to be the one helping them both out of this one.
"I call this first test the Iron Maiden. As a child, your friend Scott Tibbs stabbed you with a rusty nail. Well, how about hundreds of nails?"
Adam banged against the opening of the coffin with his good hand, snarling.
Threatening Adam was one thing. But Lawrence? Dangling him in front of Adam like that? When he got the fuck out of here, he'd—
"Listen carefully, for if you don't follow the rules, your coffin will close in on you. Those nails will pierce your body, just like your so-called friend, and you'll bleed out where you stand."
Adam clutched his hand.
He didn't want to think of what it'd feel like. Being stuck in here and minced to bits. All that would be left was a mangled mess.
He would rot there.
And no one would look for him.
Left to fester and deteriorate to ash again.
"Both of your ankles are chained. Your left is connected to the front wall, and your right to the back. These are the same shackles that bound you and Doctor Gordon to the pipes. And now, they are your key to freedom."
Lawrence would sit there, alone and terrified. Surely he had his own timer that he could see. At least, when he eventually woke up. Because he wouldn't stay under forever. No. That wouldn't be fun enough. Their captors were the type to enjoy watching someone panic as they saw their clock approach zero.
Then the doctor would rot in there, alone. Just as Adam almost had in the bathroom. And…
Adam had to do this.
"On the panel in front of you are two buttons. You must activate both to stop the walls from closing in."
The mention made his ankles throb again. He looked at the panel in front of him, studying the buttons. They were simply arrows that pointed to his left and right sides, both dull.
"But you know how… shocking those chains can be."
Adam grimaced. "So that's what we're doin'."
He remembered the pain of his one chain from the bathroom. The uncontrollable tensing of his muscles.
He had only had a charlie horse once. Somehow, the chain was like having ten. Everywhere. Every inch of his body had burned. And all he could do was lay there and take it.
"Do you have what it takes to survive, Adam?"
Lawrence. Lawrence. Do this for Lawrence.
"Live or die. Make your choice."
The puppet cackled before slowly backing up, leaving the room just as mysteriously as it appeared.
Fitting that even something like that would leave him, too.
He clenched his jaw before muttering nonsense to himself, waiting for the countdown to begin. He tensed and relaxed his fists, in unison with the pounding in his chest.
Adam's eyes popped open as he heard a click, and the timer began.
60, 59, 58…
His heart leapt out of his chest as he heard another mechanical clicking sound, and the nails spun. They advanced towards him.
Adam screamed and pounded against the wall, his hands leaning into any open spaces he could find. He used all of his strength as he desperately tried to find a weakness in the structure.
But he couldn't find anything.
"Someone help me!"
47…
Adam shuddered as the nails got closer. They shrieked in his ears. He jolted away from them, and the motion sent him flying into the nails behind him. They drilled into his back. He felt fresh blood oozing into his shirt and down his spine.
38…
He looked at the feed of Lawrence. The doctor was still slouched down, unmoving and completely helpless.
Adam needed to do this.
He whimpered as he held his shaky hand over the left button. Blood from his wounded palm dripped onto it.
He closed his eyes.
31…
Adam pressed the button with a firm slam.
Fire shot up his legs and into every muscle in his body. He shook and shivered uncontrollably. It felt like his flesh was being ripped out from underneath his skin.
It was even more suffocating than he remembered.
28…
The electricity stopped. His already-shaky knees buckled and sent Adam crashing into the nails in front of him. Some of them drilled into the side of his face.
A buzzer sounded and the nails slowed. Adam forced himself off the sharp points, screaming, feeling his face. He pressed his good hand to the holes.
The blood was already dripping towards his neck.
The wall in front of him had stopped advancing. But the nails behind him continued, and the clock ticked on.
19…
One more time. Just one more time.
Adam flattened himself against the still wall of nails as the buzzing one behind him grazed his back. He sucked in and scrunched his face as he heard the ripping of flesh.
His own flesh. That was him, being cut to bits and—
"Just fucking do it!" he shouted.
He hovered his right hand over the button, then he gave the clock one more glance.
14…
And he slammed his hand down.
The jolting returned, sending Adam rigid. Every slight movement shoved him into more nails. If they hurt, he couldn't feel it over the chain's shock, over everything in his body being set alight.
Blood slipped into his eye and he tried to cry through his grit teeth.
9…
Another buzz. The coffin swung open.
Adam toppled onto the hard ground and straight onto his shot shoulder.
He screeched and tried to shift his weight. But every spot had another wound. Another cut. Another bloody mess to clean up.
And he screamed.
He let out an earth-shattering shout as he rocked back and forth on the cold floor. He screamed at every blood-soaked nail that just pierced him, at the bastards who put them there to begin with. He screamed at himself for sending that key down the drain, ruining his chance to walk out of this from minute one.
He screamed at the bathroom itself and everything it stood for.
Adam weakly cried. His salty tears invaded the gashes littered on his cheek. Tiny drops of acid that seeped into his bloodstream.
He remembered every promise, every lie that was ever fed to him in these perverse games.
And he screamed again.
It was deafening.
Author's Note:
Hi everyone!
Thank you so much for checking this out! Twenty years ago today, Saw premiered at the Sundance Film Festival and went from a direct-to-video release to a theatrical one. Crazy to think about where the series went since then!
Adam has always been my favorite character, and this story has been in my head for ten years now. I am beyond excited to share it with you, and I hope you like it so far! This project does have a Spotify playlist that will be updated with each chapter, if you're interested: playlist/20AtiFol6pAKzXAKmSKcT6?si=7661c928226b4356
I cannot thank my amazing editor, Velitor, enough. I will always appreciate your help.
I plan on uploading every Friday, and will be posting updates to my instagram, itsanne9406. So happy to be sharing this!