Saw Fanfic :]
Part I

I lay there, in my bed, swearing at myself.
“Jesus, why am I so different?” I ask.

Of course, this is the time of day where everyone is off partying, having fun, and enjoying life’s simple pleasures, but NOT me. No, I’m stuck in my shitty apartment, doing my tedious history homework.
“Really,” I said to myself. “I could put this off for another week or so.”
I shrugged and slammed the papers on my bed, then flipped on the TV.

“Today’s top story,” the reporter, Katie Curren, was on.
I sighed and listened intently to the words that came out of her mouth next.
“Another death has been reported, and has been notably clarified that this is yet another Jigsaw killing.  It appears the victims were three white, middle-aged men who they were found at an abandoned warehouse. One victim was Dr. Lawrence Gordon, a local doctor of our area who was found at the end of a staircase with an amputated foot. He died of unimaginable amounts blood loss. Along with the young doctor was another haughty victim that has been indentified by the name of Adam. He reportedly worked as a photographer, and was found rotting in an old prehistoric bathroom of the warehouse, just feet away from where Dr. Gordon lay bleeding. The last, and perhaps most important victim, appeared to be a man that worked at the same hospital as Dr. Gordon. His name around the hospital was Zepp, and he appeared to be beaten to death on the head, yet was found with a gun in his hand. We are still unable to indentify who the Jigsaw killer is, but we have reason to believe it was Zepp, however, at this time we ask if you have any information, please contact our station. Thank you, that is all.  Will?”
“Wow,” I remember thinking. “This Jigsaw guy is one crazy bastard.”
I laughed at myself thinking, “Yeah right, this guy’s a hoax, he just wants some attention from the media.”

I went through the rest of that day chatting online with one of my fellow companions, Mike Russert, who in the past had sold me enough drugs to sedate a horse. He and I talked for hours about ridiculous trash that you and other readers wouldn’t be so interested in. I begged him for drugs, at least enough to last me throughout the week, and a sharp enough razor to cut through the veins of my wrist.
“Goodness Serenity!” He would say to me. “You surely are asking for a death wish!”
In which I would reply, “Just give me the damn drugs Mike!”
After chatting with Russert, I logged off and collapsed in my bed, still fully clothed in my jeans, t-shirt, and bracelets.