Distractions. Adam needed distractions.

He needed something to help him tune out Scott's groans. Whether it was pain, or anger, the muttering was starting to get to him.

He needed distractions from the hell that was going on all around him.

But they were hard to find in this bland hall.

The plainness reminded him of his equally decrepit apartment. Where the paint peeled off the walls and he had to jimmy the keys because he couldn't get the maintenance dude to come fix the crappy door.

He thought about the low-quality rap music — a guilty pleasure of his — blaring from a neighbor's apartment as he marched up the steps.

He remembered the old, grouchy tenant who had convinced himself that Adam was some unemployed dude whose life revolved around keeping everyone awake.

All as he relived his bland day and thumped up those bland stairs leading to his bland apartment.

It reminded him of the life he hated and how badly he wanted to return to it.

He thought about Scott's concert. Adam was so excited to see it. He told everyone about it. People he saw at the store, at his apartment, and...

Adam narrowed his eyes.

And Rockstar.

Rockstar, pacing in the lobby of his apartment building.

Rockstar, with wild brown hair and mysterious dark eyes. With her bold outfit that just... worked. Not everyone could pull off an outfit like that.

"Very rock star!" Adam had called to her as he trod down the stairs.

He had walked past her, eyes trained on the door to leave. He winced at the nickname he had just given her. He wanted to get away and save himself from more embarrassment, he was almost gone and then...

He turned around, facing Rockstar again.

"Sorry, your hair. It's very rock star." He continued to speak despite her turning her back on him. "I like it."

That's seriously the best I've got?

"Speaking of rock star. I've been instructed to give these out." Adam handed her a flier.

'Speaking of rockstar'? Really?

He gingerly passed the flier off to her as he looked at her, trying to meet her gaze. But she was looking down. Somewhere deep down in the optimistic side of Adam's mind, he tried to believe that she was reading it.

But he knew she wasn't. She was looking at the floor, trying to avoid any further awkward conversation with this absolute stranger. She was probably just trying to get home. Or visit a friend. She'd have a fun time telling her friends all about this asshat in the lobby, that was for sure.

But Adam couldn't just shut the hell up.

"My buddy's band. They don't completely suck, as far as buddy bands go."

It just blurted out. Flew right out of his mouth, the words just as sharp and awkward as him.

She was still silent.

Ugh shut up, just stop...

But the words kept stammering out.

"You live here?"

His eye twitched as she moved down a bit closer to him, frowning.

"Just visiting," she whispered in reply.

He nodded at her, bobbing his head like an idiot.

Just going upstairs to shit all over him, then.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her boots move away from him.

"I'll see you there!" Adam called after her, finally turning away.

No you won't.

He flinched.

He had to know. He had to.

So despite everything in him screaming otherwise, he turned towards her one last time. "You know what? I-I'm not gonna see you there, am I?"

"Probably not."

Okay. Go. Leave. It was time to leave.

"Can I take your picture?" He half-smiled.

Real smooth, Stanheight. Real smooth.

But it seemed right, in the moment. He was so used to using his camera to take pictures of shady rich dudes he couldn't care less about. Catch them as they cheated and hurt the people who cared about them.

Felt like his final chance at giving back something to the world.

After the one girl he trusted more than anything ran off with some other guy and broke Adam's heart.

Maybe in some twisted way, he could make use of it. Keep it from happening to someone else.

But that's not what he wanted, that's not what he saw for himself. He was sick of following people around as revenge for some girl that never gave a damn about him.

And in front of him was this Rockstar that he actually wanted to take a picture of.

She smiled at him, and his lip curled.

He was still in awe.

"Hold right there!" He chuckled and took the shots.

The lighting was shitty, didn't do her any justice. The stairs were decrepit, the walls were stained and dark, but despite how it all looked, there in front of him she just looked so...

Powerful.

Amidst wreckage and everything else, there she stood. Her hair wild and free.

"Nice, thanks," Adam muttered.

It was all he could get out.

"You're welcome."

And she turned once again, heading up the stairs with the most uncomfortable look on her face.

Uncomfortable.

He had made Rockstar uncomfortable.

And that was the last thing he would be remembered for.

Not his taste in music. Not his job or his dreams. Not his friends.

But for being the guy who made the girl uncomfortable.

That's the legacy that he'll leave in this world if he doesn't—

"Guess we've gotta go in," Scott told him.

Adam grumbled at the disturbance. He looked around.

He was still in the disgusting house that made him miss his apartment. Still trapped in this building that threatened to keep his corpse as a decoration if he couldn't get the hell out.

The path had led them to a hall with three doors. Scott had probably tried to shimmy around with the two closer ones on either side with no luck, but the one furthest and to their left was wide open.

Adam sighed and approached it. He could feel Scott tense up behind him, waiting for him to lead them through.

The room was tiny. Cramped, even for the house. It was empty, save for a bunch of papers taped up on the walls. Including four horrible, disgusting pictures. Adam barely managed to stop himself from vomiting at the sight.

They were photos of the bathroom. Brutal, close-up shots of the events that had unfolded right in front of Adam.

The toilet that he had fished through at the start. He had uselessly dug around in it before taking his hand out too fast. He spit when the contents splashed out at him.

The hacksaw that screwed him over when he lost his temper. It had snapped in half, his exit ticket completely useless.

Zep.

Zep with his bashed-in skull that littered the floor around him. With the blood that had run down Adam's arm. He could still hear the crunch and feel the squish resulting from bone giving through. He could remember the agony he felt when the once-living, breathing man before him stopped struggling.

He had killed someone.

Lawrence had been told to kill Adam. Meanwhile, Adam went and murdered someone who ended up being another pawn.

Exactly what Adam was. What he always had been.

And just like that, the pawn had done what the knight couldn't.

"I murdered an innocent man."

Scott's voice cracked out, "You what?"

Adam shook his head, tears swelling in his eyes. It was like his own little crime scene.

His eyes kept darting around the pictures of the bathroom. Of the hacksaw, the toilet, Zep.

And Lawrence...

His foot was in the last photo. Adam would never get the sight of his head. Or wails that bellowed out of the person that he had grown to trust. He could see bone stick out from the foot, and the trail of blood.

But despite how horribly everything had played out, when he was back in the bathroom in the wake of the carnage surrounding him, he hadn't realized how much blood there was.

He knew it was a lot but...

How could a human being possibly lose that much blood?

Adam had no idea where Lawrence was or what happened to him. All he knew was that the doctor was desperate, terrified. He was bleeding out and wanted nothing more than to get back to his wife and daughter.

And Adam was the thing standing between Lawrence and the people he loved.

He had been told to shoot to kill. Then he shot Adam in the shoulder of all places.

A doctor. Who would know better.

Adam was still standing because in the moment, despite the pure desperation and agony in the man's eyes, he insisted on giving him a chance.

Lawrence was the strongest person Adam had ever met.

"I'm coming for you, Lawrence."

Scott looked over at him. Adam could barely keep down the tears that threatened to emerge.

He was standing here because of Lawrence.

"I found this," Scott whispered while handing him another note.

He must have found it on the wall that Adam hadn't gotten to.

Adam shuddered and felt at it. The neat handwriting matched the other notes he had collected.

'You Deserved More Time'

No one had said that directly to him. He couldn't remember an instance where someone, even Lawrence, had said this.

But about him?

He remembered laying there, shoulder throbbing after he regained consciousness. They had done something to it. He couldn't open his eyes or thrash his way out like he wanted, but he felt everything.

Heard everything they said as they hovered over him.

"He deserves more time!" Lawrence had shouted.

People talked over the doctor. Even Lawrence, a doctor, and a damn good one, didn't have a say here. Far from it.

"We said three days, and it has been three days, doctor," a new voice muttered.

The person sounded angry, serious. Just from his voice, the tone he used, he seemed bigger than Lawrence and stronger than the frail old guy that Jigsaw was. Everything about his presence told Adam that this man could kick all of their asses right there without breaking a sweat.

"Doctor, he needs more than we can give him, you said so yourself," Jigsaw murmured. "We are putting him in, your job is done."

"If you would give him just one more day—"

"He starts tomorrow," Jigsaw interjected. "He's ready."

"He's not—"

"The answer is no!" the angry guy interrupted. "And you need to leave. If he finds out it's you, well..."

The angry person had trailed off and the room was silent. Even Jigsaw stayed quiet, waiting for the man to gather his thoughts.

"I would hate to have to show you what that means for you."

Adam couldn't remember anything else.

He couldn't remember the aftermath of that person threatening Lawrence. He had no idea what he meant by "what that means" for him.

Had Adam done something he couldn't remember? Had he screwed something up and caused the man to do something to Lawrence?

What did I do?

"Adam, calm down!" Scott shouted.

He didn't realize how rapidly he had been breathing until black spots swarmed his vision. His heart felt like it would burst out of his chest at any moment.

He had already killed Zep. What had he done to Lawrence?

His vision turned to black. It mimicked the complete and absolute nothing that he saw when he was locked in the bathroom.

Just like back then, he had no fucking clue where the doctor could possibly be.

It was suffocating.

Scott guided him to the ground. Adam could feel blood drip out of his nose and mouth, forming trails on his face. Scott shouted something, but it was muffled by the pounding of his heart and the ringing in his ears.

Lawrence had gone through hell and back to get Adam out of that bathroom.

How the hell could Adam possibly return the favor now?

Author's Note:

Hi everyone! Sorry this was a little late, my fanfiction account wasn't working yesterday. Not sure if it was for the entire website or if my laptop glitched. Anyway, these chapters are prewritten (save for final edits) so inconsistencies like that won't usually happen. Hope you enjoy!