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thinkingoflawrence · 1 year ago

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Part 6 ~ Finale

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Word count: 3868

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"Besides you!" Strahm exclaimed with a raspy voice, not believing anything Hoffman was saying, he was involved with Jigsaw.

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Hoffman got defensive and explained how he was chasing Jigsaw from the beginning, and something along the lines of if you don't have anything else to say, back the fuck off. The atmosphere in the sterile room was even tenser than before. Hoffman's jaw clenched, and he crossed his arms, while Strahm didn't say anything else and just eyed the wall, ignoring Hoffman.

"Read the papers, I saved that little girl" Hoffman snapped at Strahm, who was now glaring at Hoffman from the side. After some time of tension, Hoffman sighed and decided to leave the room, leaving Strahm in the sterile hospital room of his presumed dead wife. Strahm gathered strength to stand up and get back to his hospital room, his heart still aching at the thought of losing his wife. As he arrived, he took a glance at all the "Hope you get well soon" cards lying on the side table of his empty hospital bed.

Upon reading the messages "I heard what happened" and "I'm sorry," his anger only grew. He didn't want their pity but instead wanted to bring justice to all the victims and find Jigsaw's accomplice, especially Y/N.

The sound of the door opening pulled Strahm out of his focus on the cards, he moved his head to the side, looking towards the door, it was Special Agent Erickson. He sighed before looking back into the cards, "sorry about your wife" Said Agent Erickson, trying to show his solidarity. Strahm kept reading through the cards, trying to ignore him, "shouldn't you be resting?" Asked Agent Erickson calmly but with a hint of authority.

Agent Strahm's gaze changed, and he no longer looked at the cards. Instead, he looked at Agent Erickson. "I'm fine... Erickson" shared Strahm, before a cough escaped his wounded throat. Erickson's expression softened as he said, "No, you're not Peter..." he paused, and a sigh left his mouth. "That's why I put you on medical leave" Erickson explained.

Then a suitcase was placed on the hospital bed with Erickson, he opened it to reveal files. Strahm was not content with the idea of being on medical leave especially since this accomplice was still out there and still able to hurt more people, he was convinced that there was an accomplice.

Peter crossed his arms, glancing at the wall "You know," he paused "I was supposed to die in there..." he mentioned, thinking back to this gruesome moment, all these emotions he felt, the memories of Y/N... The other special agent, Erickson, looked up from the suitcase, glancing at Peter, then immediately dropping his gaze back into the suitcase. "You shouldn't have been in there without backup anyway," said Erickson with a strict tone.

Peter took a step closer to Erickson, explaining that he wanted to have a last talk with Jill Tuck. Which immediately got shut down by Erickson saying that Peter was off the case. As he heard this, he felt his heart sink into his stomach. The back and forth between Erickson and Strahm didn't last long, Strahm wanted to stay on the case, but it wasn't possible since Erickson himself put him off the case.

Erickson handed Peter a letter confirming that he was being taken off the case. Despite the news, he kept a calm expression on his face. With a last "I'm sorry Peter, it's over," he left the hospital room, leaving a disbelieving Strahm behind.

Strahm stood there trying to process everything that had just happened. He couldn't believe he was being taken off the case. He thought to himself, "What does he mean by 'I'm off the case?' I need to catch this suspect."

Despite feeling exhausted and worried, Peter knew he couldn't just accept his fate. With stubbornness guiding his every thought, he resolved to find a way back into the investigation, even if it meant going against orders.

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In the operating room, Y/N's life hung in the balance. A team of surgeons and nurses surrounded her, working urgently to save her. The sterile environment buzzed with activity as they fought against time. Y/N was under anesthesia and her senses were clouded, but she couldn't help but think about Peter and whether he knew she was still alive.

Meanwhile, Strahm had left the hospital and returned home. The once warm and comforting place now felt empty and cold. Typically, he and Y/N would return home together, or if Peter stayed longer, Y/N would be waiting for him. Strahm's heart ached at the thought of it, but he couldn't afford to get caught up in his emotions. He moved with determination, determined to find a way back onto the case at any cost.

quickly gathering all the necessary items for his hunt to find Jigsaw's helper. Along the way, he stopped by their shared bedroom where he found the bed still messy and untouched since the last time they were home, which was maybe just a day before. He walked towards the closet and opened it, revealing an array of colourful clothes and a fresh set of clothing. After searching through the clothes, he pulled out some baggier jeans and a black shirt.

As he was about to change into his clothes, he turned to his right and saw one of Y/N's favourite hoodies lying there. Walking over to the hoodie, he picked it up and hugged it tightly, closing his eyes in the process. He just wanted to hold her again, and as he took in the scent of the hoodie, his heart ached for her once more. Before placing the hoodie on the untidy bed, Peter took a deep breath, grabbed his bag, and headed towards the car.

Strahm loaded his car with the necessary equipment and left his home with a clear plan in mind. He knew he had to act fast before any more innocent lives were taken by Jigsaw's accomplice.

Before doing anything else, he needed to go to the station to check on Hoffman. He had to gather evidence so he would be able to prove his suspicion of Hoffman being the accomplice. Strahm walked into the station, trying to be quick and not to be seen by Agent Erickson, since he was on Medical leave and not on the case anymore.

In a hurry, he moved towards the scanner and swiped his card quickly. With the door unlocked, he hurried inside the room and immediately made his way over to the table. There, he carefully placed his bag next to him and turned the computer on. he accessed the FBI Database and began to search for any criminal records on Hoffman. He concentrated on the task at hand, scrolling through the various pages and analyzing the data.

Strahm leaned back in his chair, feeling a mixture of frustration and disappointment. The computer in front of him had just finished scanning the massive FBI database, but the results were not what he had hoped for. There was no indication of a criminal record for Hoffman, so he stood up with a heavy sigh and went to retrieve the case files.

Strahm retrieved the files and walked back to his desk. He placed them carefully on the table, next to his bag, making sure not to drop any of the papers. As he examined the files more closely, Strahm's eyes caught sight of a familiar name that sent a chill down his spine. It was the name of a victim who had been brutally murdered by Jigsaw, the infamous serial killer.

Detective Hoffman investigated a murder case in which 'Jigsaw' was the killer. Upon examining the database, he discovered that the victim was also a suspect in another murder case where a woman was killed by her partner. Upon further investigation, Strahm found that Hoffman was related to the female victim. This revelation connected the puzzle pieces for Strahm, who began to suspect that Hoffman might be Jigsaw's accomplice.

Strahm packed up his belongings to investigate the location of the Jigsaw murder. As he tried to leave the research lab without being seen, Erickson caught him and asked him why he was there. Strahm replied, "I'm just collecting some stuff from the office. I'm taking your advice and think I should rest."

Detective Erickson initially showed suspicion when he received the object, but eventually accepted it. Agent Strahm then returned to his car, carefully placed his bag in the trunk, and sat down in the driver's seat. He took a deep breath and carefully reviewed the files again, reading everything thoroughly. After placing the files back into his bag, he started the engine. Although his heart was racing, he was filled with determination.

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While driving, the engine hummed as his mind raced with flashbacks of Y/N's injury and the bodies from the jigsaw traps he had seen. He snapped out of his memories and decided to turn on the radio. It played one of his favourite songs, so he started tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the song.

After some time, Peter arrived at the site of the murder. He parked his car and turned off the engine. He grabbed his bag, took a deep breath, locked his car, and walked over to the door of the building. As he approached the door, his anticipation grew, and his senses were heightened. Each step felt like a countdown to the moment when he would confront the horrors lurking within. With a steady hand, he reached for the door handle, steeling himself for what lay ahead. The door creaked open, and the stale air of the abandoned building enveloped him as he held his flashlight. As he looked around, his eyes caught a glimpse of the former 'Jigsaw' trap, now abandoned and left to collect dust and spiderwebs.

Approaching with caution, he moved closer to the trap. He carefully examined the files once again, attempting to reconstruct the events that took place. As he examined the trap, he noticed a door on the other side that featured a peculiar hole in the glass. This hole seemed to have been intentionally made to provide a view of the trap from the other side.

After conducting a thorough investigation of the dusty and abandoned location, he left it behind, with no intention of ever returning. The location was left to decay in peace once again, as he walked back to his car. Following his usual routine, he started the engine and drove away. The drive back to the station was long and quiet, with his mind lost in thought. He went straight to the research lab to reflect on what had just happened. Standing at his desk, he rested his hands on the files and looked around the dimly lit room, trying to make sense of the situation. The reflection of his wedding band caught his eye, and he realized that Hoffman had been involved in each case. The realization sent a shiver down his spine. He whispered, "Did he help Jigsaw get all of them?" As he pondered this thought, he knew that he had to dig deeper into the case to find the truth.

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Peter had been waiting outside the train station for what seemed like hours. He had been keeping his eye out for Detective Hoffman, whom he had been following discreetly for some time. Finally, he spotted him. Hoffman entered a nondescript building, and Peter waited a few moments before following him inside.

As he entered the building, he carefully held his gun, ready for anything. The interior was dim, and he walked slowly and silently through the house, carefully scanning each room he passed. After a few moments, he reached a room with a light on. He paused for a moment to listen, but he couldn't hear anything.

He pushed the door open slowly, peering cautiously inside. The room was empty, and it looked as though it had been thoroughly cleaned. Peter took a few moments to survey the room, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. He carefully backed out of the room, his mind racing with questions. Where was Hoffman? What was he doing here? And what did he hope to find?

The room was in a state of disarray, with empty cans and plates littering the space and general untidiness. There were some black couches in the room and numerous shelves. Strahm surveyed the area in search of clues as to where Hoffman could be, and his attention was drawn to a hatch on the floor. He carefully opened the hatch, switched on his flashlight, and proceeded down the stairs cautiously. The environment was dark, so Strahm had to proceed with care.

As he kept walking, he went down several dark hallways. Pipes were running along the side of the hallways, and sometimes there were little lights in the basement. He stumbled upon a massive metal door but found nothing else, so he continued his journey down the hallways.

Peter walked along until he stumbled upon an open door. As he looked inside, he saw what appeared to be a glass coffin, which seemed like another trap. Was the accomplice aware of his arrival? Peter checked to see if anyone was hiding behind the door, but no one was there. He walked towards the coffin and upon closer inspection, he found shards of glass inside it, and a tape hanging from the top. He picked up the tape and played it. The recording started with "Hello Agent Strahm."

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Peter found himself standing on the edge of a dangerous situation, feeling his breaths become shallow and his heart racing with adrenaline. Meanwhile, across town, Y/N slowly regained consciousness in a dimly lit hospital room. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled her nostrils as she tried to sit up, but her body still felt heavy and disoriented from the lingering effects of anesthesia. A groan escaped her mouth as her memories flooded back, reminding her of the trap that caused her pain and her heart to race.

After everything that happened, there was one thought that kept burning in her mind: Peter.

With trembling and weak hands, she reached for the call button beside her bed. Her heart pounded with desperation as she hoped a nurse could tell her where her husband was and if he was well. The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallways outside, growing louder with each passing moment.

The nurse opened the door, and Y/N met her with a mixture of worry and relief. "You're awake," said the nurse softly, smiling. However, Y/N's mind was elsewhere, her thoughts completely consumed by worry. "Was my husband here? Is he okay?" Y/N asked anxiously. The nurse tried to speak, but Y/N didn't let her. "Peter Strahm, was he here?" she pressed. "Well, he was here, but I assume he dismissed himself. He was a patient himself... Other than that, I'm afraid I can't be of much help," the nurse replied. She knew he was stubborn, but she didn't expect him to be so stupid. The nurse asked if she needed anything else before leaving the room again.

Y/N slowly rose from her bed, placing her weak legs on the ground. She held on the edge of the bed, trying not to fall. looking for her phone wanting to contact Peter. She searched the room slowly and found it inside a bag. She took the bag and put Peter's number in it. called him but nothing, he didn't respond. She tried again but this time he declined.

This felt weird to Y/N, normally he would've texted after he declined saying something along the lines of "I'm sorry I had to decline, can't call right now but I'll call you back later" but this time nothing, Y/N got left with an anxious feeling in her stomach and decided to call Erickson.

Maybe she let her emotions take a little too much control, but her intuition told her something was wrong. Trying to calm herself somehow as she called the number of Erickson. But as the call connected, a calming wave of relief ran through her.

"Erickson," came the familiar voice on the other end of the line, tinged with a hint of surprise.

"Y/N, how are you feeling? is everything alright?"

Her throat felt dry as she struggled to find the right words, "Well, I feel alright, it's just that I'm worried about Peter... he's not responding to my calls and..." Y/N was interrupted by Erickson's sigh. "I didn't want to tell you this, but we have suspicions that Peter could be an accomplice for Jigsaw." As he said this, Y/N could feel her heart sinking into her stomach.

"What do you mean by he is a suspect as the accomplice? Peter could never i..." She felt sudden doubt, could it be? "Well, he has been acting a little suspicious ever since, now we are trying to find him, he went into hiding" Erickson explained with a hint of authority.

Erickson's voice interrupted Y/N's thoughts, returning her to the present. "We need your help," he said urgently. "If you have any information about Peter's whereabouts, anything that could help us track him down, you need to tell us."

Y/N had a strong urge to speak, but an overpowering sense of doubt was gnawing at her. Her mind was racing with conflicting emotions that left her feeling numb and unable to respond. She still trusted Peter, but the doubt was slowly eating away at that trust. "I'll do what I can to help," she said, her voice filled with concern. "Please find him, Erickson, before it's too late."

Erickson replied with a reassuring tone, "I'll see what I can do," before the call ended. Y/N was left with a heavy heart and a mind filled with questions after ending the call. She wondered if Peter was truly guilty or if there was more to this twisted game than met the eye. She couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off, and she couldn't help but wonder what was going on behind the scenes. Her thoughts were clouded with uncertainty, but she knew that she had to trust her instincts and keep a close eye on the situation.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/N barely noticed the passing time as she waited for news of Peter's whereabouts. But even as she grappled with her doubts, one thing remained clear: she had to trust her instincts, keep a close eye on the situation and do whatever it took to uncover the truth. Although she had grown accustomed to standing and walking once again, she still experienced pain in her facial area.

She was determined to find out the truth, even if that meant being as stubborn as her husband. She weakly grabbed her clothes and got dressed, then sat in the room and took in her surroundings. The serene atmosphere surrounding her caught her attention. The sound of passing cars could be heard faintly in the background, creating a soft white noise that seemed to soothe her mind. The room was painted in a light shade of blue, with white curtains hanging by the window, allowing a gentle glow of sunlight to filter through. The air was cool, and fresh, and had a hint of lavender scent, possibly emanating from the fresh flowers placed on the bedside table. All in all, it was a peaceful and calming environment that made her feel at ease.

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Y/N was feeling worried about Peter, so she picked up her phone and dialled the number of a trusted colleague. Her fingers were trembling slightly as she waited for the call to connect. With each ring, her anxiety mounted, and the seconds felt like an eternity. Finally, the call was answered. "Hey, it's me," Y/N said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Do you have any updates on Peter?" There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before her colleague replied, their voice grave. "We've located his phone," they said, their words sending a shiver down Y/N's spine. Begging for her husband's location, she finally convinced her colleague to give her the address.

her heart skipped a beat upon hearing the news. A surge of hope mixed with a nagging sense of unease. Something didn't feel right, but she pushed the thought aside. Her determination overrode her doubts. "Thank you," she said. Her voice remained steady despite the turmoil in her mind. "I'll head there right away." With a sense of urgency, Y/N ended the call and headed to the address provided. Every step felt like a race against time. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts as she neared the warehouse. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Y/N's heart raced as she approached the warehouse, her mind consumed with worry for Peter. But as she reached the building, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. Something didn't feel right.

Y/N stood at the entrance of an abandoned house, feeling a sense of dread. She was hesitant to proceed without caution, as doubt consumed her. She wondered why someone would make it so obvious and cast shadows of uncertainty over every step she took. Suddenly, she remembered a conversation she had with someone who mentioned the same house where Jigsaw had trapped Detective Matthews's son a few years ago. With a renewed sense of determination, she decided to enter the building and called a taxi to get there. She couldn't help but wonder if Peter could be there.

As she neared the building, her heart rate increased. She felt both excited and afraid at the same time. She needed to find her husband and hoped to get answers if he was involved. With trembling hands, she pushed open the door and rushed inside with a gun in her hand. As she went further inside, she came across a dark room, and her breath got caught in her throat as she saw someone in front of her.

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It was Peter, behind him a hatch door on the floor. As she saw Peter her eyes filled with tears, her hands trembling more as he slowly approached her "Y/N? Y/N what are you doing here? How did you find this place?" he asked. Y/N put her gun down slowly trembling hands, and she rushed over to him pulling him into a tight hug, Peter could feel himself tearing up too, but held himself back, he put his arms around her and rubbed her back as she cried into his chest.

With many questions floating around in her head, she looked at Peter and spoke with a shaky voice. "Peter," she said with uncertainty, "they suspect you of being Jigsaw's accomplice." The words hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over their reunion. Y/N's heart ached with the weight of the accusation, her mind reeling with disbelief. How could the man she loved be implicated in such horrors? But as she looked into Peter's eyes, she saw only confusion and concern reflected at her. The truth of the situation remained elusive, obscured by a veil of uncertainty and doubt.

In that moment, all they could do was hold onto each other, drawing strength from their bond as they faced the unknown together. And as they stood in the dim light of the former Jigsaw trap.

a/n: This chapter wasn't my best work; it was confusing to most. Strahm survived, and the story had an open ending.

#saw #fanfic #peter strahm #x reader #saw fanfic #peter strahm x fem!reader #peter strahm x reader #angst #fanfic finale

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thinkingoflawrence · 1 year ago

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You can’t do this to me 💔

THEY PUSHED BACK SAW XI A WHOLE YEAR?!?!?

#sobbing

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thinkingoflawrence · 1 year ago

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thinkingoflawrence · 1 year ago

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thinkingoflawrence · 1 year ago

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The Missing Piece of Us

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Summary:

Gabriel and Y/N Reyes were happily married, until an event changed their lives.

Words: 1.488

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He was dead, he was really

dead. You were in front of his grave, which said, "Here lies Gabriel Reyes commander Blackwatch" with the Blackwatch logo above it.

It was a plate on the ground, next to Jack's grave. You still couldn't accept the fact that your husband was gone.

Tears start to fill your eyes again as everything hits you again. He really was gone—your husband, the father of your son, your love of your life—gone. The same thought swam constantly through your mind.

Your son hugs your leg, trying to comfort you, as a breeze of wind just flows by the two of you.

Memories start to flow through your mind of all the happy moments you shared with Gabe. Your first date was at some coffee shop, and even though he hated it, he did it for you.

Or the moment he asked you to be his wife after he came back from an Overwatch mission at your shared home. All these moments suddenly flood your brain, "I miss you, Gabriel... I miss you so much," you said before you broke down in front of his grave, as suddenly a hand touched your shoulder. You expected it to be the hand of your son, but it was Angela, a colleague of Gabriel's. She looked down at you comfortingly as she rubbed your bag and took you into her arms with your son.

"It will be okay, Y/N. Let it out," Angela said softly as she kept rubbing your back. "Shhh, it's okay." She herself had some tears in her eyes, she wished that she could've done something for Gabriel.

After you got calmer, Angela handed flowers to you and your son to place on Gabe's grave.

The two of you place the flowers on the gravestone on the floor and take a last look in silence. Before you take a photo of you and Gabriel from the day you gave birth to your son out of the pocket of your jacket and place it next to the flowers,

As you walked away from Gabriel's grave with Angela and your son, you couldn't help but reflect on the life you shared with him. The memories flooded your mind, both the happy ones and the challenging ones. You remembered the adventures you had, the battles he fought, and the love you shared. It was clear that Gabriel would always hold a special place in your heart, and his memory would continue to bloom and influence your life. Over the weeks and months that followed, you focused on being there for your son, just as Gabriel would have wanted. You became a pillar of strength for him, providing the love and support he needed to navigate through life without his father. It wasn't easy, but you drew strength from the memories you shared with Gabriel.

You made a commitment to keep Gabriel's memory alive for your son.

You told him about the missions and other stories from his father, showed him pictures, and taught him the values and principles that Gabriel held dear.

As time went on, you found moments of happiness and healing.

You found a new love—someone who brought that happiness back into your life. Of course, no one could replace Gabriel, but you found the strength to move on. You will always keep Gabriel in your honor and in your heart. Your son grew, and you could see glimpses of Gabriel in him, both in his appearance and his personality.

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One rainy day, you walked back home from the cinema with your new husband and your son. The three of you had just enjoyed a family outing to watch a movie that your son had been eagerly anticipating. The rain had started to fall during the film, and as you stepped outside, the streets glistened with the reflections of streetlights on the wet pavement.

Luckily, you packed an umbrella right before you left for the cinema. You pulled the umbrella out of your purse and opened it.

Your husband offered to hold it for you, and you wouldn't say no to that, so you gave him the umbrella, and he placed his other arm around you, and you held your son close to you so you three could all fit underneath the umbrella.

The three of you started walking home, but you got the weird feeling of being watched or followed. You look around to see if you can catch anyone looking at you or following you, but you see nothing...

You kept walking until you finally arrived at the door to your apartment, but you still felt watched. You'd decided to ignore the feeling and thought you were just imagining it.

Your husband unlocked the door, and your son ran in, and your husband followed. You were about to follow too, but you decided to look behind you and saw a dark figure disappear in a dark alley on the other side of the street. Maybe you were being followed... maybe you were right...

You decided to just ignore it, close the door behind you, and get changed. Your son and husband were already out of their jackets and outside shoes on their way into the kitchen.

You took your jacket and shoes off and went to follow the two of them.

Time has passed since your son went to sleep, or you think he is sleeping he also could be playing on his computer, but you and your husband are on the couch watching some Bake Off that was playing on the television.

You were in the arms of your husband, relaxing, and as you looked over, you saw him fall asleep. You couldn't help but smile at his sleeping figure. You needed to get something, so you carefully stood up and went into the kitchen. You looked out the window and saw that it had stopped raining. Suddenly you heard a knock on your door, which startled you a little before you slowly walked to open the door, wondering who knocked on your door at this hour.

As you opened the door, you were greeted by... nothing. No one stood there, and you thought someone pulled a prank on you, so you looked outside left and right to check if there was someone, but... there was no one.

Before you could go back inside, you realized that two were lying on the door mat.

Curiously, you picked the items up, and you looked at them closely and saw that it's ... the photo you left at the grave of Gabriel and a note that reads:

"My flower, I want you to know that I will always love you. I'm very proud of you.

- Yours forever

Gabe"

The note was like a ray of hope in the darkness, and you couldn't help but be overwhelmed with a mix of emotions. The reappearance of the photo you had left at Gabriel's grave, along with the heartfelt message, left you both confused and elated.

You take the two items inside and close the door again. You go to your bedroom and open a drawer door to pull out a box, a box full of things from Gabriel.

As you carefully placed the items in the box with all the memories of Gabriel, you couldn't shake the feeling that there might be some truth to the note. The use of his endearing nickname for you, "My flower," and the loving message seemed too personal to be a cruel joke. It stirred up memories of the love you had shared and the unique bond you had with Gabriel.

After all that, you sat down on the bed and just stared at the wall, all the memories coming up again. You let the tears flow and covered your face with your hands as you kept on crying.

You didn't expect anyone to hear you, but you hear the door opening, and as you look, you see your son. "Mom, are you okay?.." he said softly as he slowly approached you.

You thought you finally got over his death, but all this made everything come up again, and the thought that he was still alive comes up in your mind again.

"I just... thought about your father again. It just came up... I'm alright.." you said with a shaky voice, trying to put on a fake smile for her son, but this couldn't fool him. "Mom, I can see you're not okay." He approached you and gave you a hug.

As your son wrapped his arms around you in a comforting hug, the tears kept flowing. You were no longer sure what to think, but the combination of grief, confusion, and hope was overwhelming.

Your son's embrace felt like a lifeline, a heartwarming reminder of the strong and loving family you had created with Gabriel, and that strength still prevailed. And always remember, you are loved.

#fanfic #overwatch #reaper x reader #gabriel reyes x reader #angst #angst overwatch

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thinkingoflawrence · 1 year ago

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Part 5 ~ Trapped in the Glass Cube

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Word count: 908

Author’s note: Sorry for being gone for this long, k didn’t have motivation to continue this fanfic, but here is the next part!! The next chapters coming soon!

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I found myself lying on a cold, hard surface, the memory of Y/N's warning echoing in my mind. As my senses sharpened, I became aware of a peculiar weight on my shoulders. I started panicking, trying to find a way to get it off...

I try reaching for my items in my pockets, which now are empty, I look over to a table... my things were on there. As panic floods my mind, I desperately attempt to break free from the glass box on my Head.

Suddenly, water started to fill the Cube, the panic filling my mind more than before, trying to avoid the water.

With more and more water filling the cube, it gets harder to breathe, Once again I reach into my pocket,

I feel a pen, immediately pulling it out of my pocket, my mind rushes to one solution.

Ramming the Pen in my throat, unscrewing the back of said pen and removing the ink cartridge to create a small air passage for me to breathe through. Finally being able to breathe gives me some sense of relief.

Some Time passes

As I regained consciousness, the sterile scent of the hospital room enveloped me, mingling with the sharp ache in my throat. Blinking away the grogginess, I tried to piece together what had happened. Fragments of memories flooded back — Y/N's warning, the suffocating panic in the glass cube, the desperate act with the pen.

The realization hit me like a sledgehammer. Where was Y/N? I remembered asking someone, my voice hoarse and strained. They took me to her room. Dread coiled in my stomach as I entered, only to be met with the sight of a blood-stained bed. A cold wave of sadness washed over me, the possibility of her death looming like a dark cloud...

Tears threatened to spill as I stood there, grappling with the unbearable weight of uncertainty. Was she alive? Was she safe? The unanswered questions gnawed at my insides, leaving me hollow and raw. But amidst the despair, a flicker of determination ignited within me. I couldn't afford to give up hope, not yet. With trembling hands, I reached for Y/N's belongings, searching for any clue, any sign of her fate. Whatever it took, I would find her.

Sitting by Y/N's bed, the weight of uncertainty pressed down on me, the scene's of her getting injured replaying in my head: "Hello, Y/N." I turned to look at the doll, my eyes switching to Y/N

"And welcome to the world that you have long studied. Your Husband, Agent Strahm, will soon take the life of an innocent man.

Heed my warning, Y/N." As Y/N turned to me, I didn't know what will happen, "Your next move is critical." Then me holding her in my arms, blood covering her body...

My fingers fidgeting with my wedding band, a tangible reminder of the love and bond we shared. But now, it felt like a cruel mockery of what once was. Unable to bear the sight any longer, I turned my gaze to the blank wall, my mind consumed by a whirlwind of emotions. Anger, grief, and fear tangled together, threatening to consume me whole.

After some time, I heard the door open, and Detective Hoffman walked into the room. His presence was like a sudden chill, disrupting the solemn atmosphere that had settled over Y/N's hospital room.

"I'm sorry about Y/N," he offered, his voice strained with an awkward attempt at sympathy. I gave him a short glance before turning my attention back to Y/N's still form on the hospital bed.

Hoffman walked further into the room, his footsteps echoing softly against the sterile floors. "How did you walk out of that building?" he pressed, his tone tinged with curiosity and suspicion. I shot him a questioning look, silently urging him to explain himself.

"How did you?" I countered, my voice edged with bitterness. "On a gurney with a fucking hole in my throat!" My words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the trauma I had endured.

I paused, struggling to contain the rising tide of anger within me. "And you..." I trailed off, my gaze scanning Hoffman's form from head to toe. "A couple of scratches, and a story about how your arm straps broke," I spat out, unable to conceal my disbelief.

My suspicions lingered like a shadow between us, casting doubt on Hoffman's every word and action.

As the tension thickened, I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms with pent-up frustration. Hoffman's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of defensiveness crossing his features.

"Is this you theorizing again? 'Cause Jigsaw is dead," Hoffman interjected, his voice laced with thinly veiled irritation.

I shot him a glare, my frustration simmering just beneath the surface. "I'm not talking about him," I retorted, my tone sharp and accusatory. "I'm talking about you and your whole crooked department."

Hoffman's jaw tightened, a fleeting flicker of unease crossing his features before he countered," My department's gone, they're all dead. There's no one left."

"Besides you!" My response was swift and cutting, my eyes boring into Hoffman's with unyielding intensity.

The room seemed to crackle with the weight of our words, the air thick with suspicion and accusation. Each syllable hung in the air like a silent accusation, casting a pall over the already tense atmosphere....

#saw #fanfic #peter strahm #x reader #saw fanfic #peter strahm x fem!reader #peter strahm x reader #fanfics #angst

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thinkingoflawrence · 1 year ago

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Chapter 5 of Lost in the game is in works!

#saw #fanfic #peter strahm

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thinkingoflawrence · 1 year ago

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Them lashes 🤭

#saw #peter strahm

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thinkingoflawrence · 1 year ago

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Thank you to everyone who got me to 100 likes!

#100 likes #tumblr milestone #thank you

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thinkingoflawrence · 1 year ago

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Breaking Glass

Description: She wasn't given a choice. Instead, it was made for her.

A/N: This is a Lawrence Gordon (kind of) Imagine/Fanfiction I wrote for my friend! @thinkingoflawrence

And this being my first post is kind of random and new to me, but enjoy it as much as you can!

TW: Mentions of blood, trauma.

Word Count: 4619

The old TV flashed with a static sound. A bright light flashed, followed by waves of gray lines that rushed across the screen before merging into a complete image. However, Nia still seemed to be unconscious, as she didn't catch the odd-looking puppet appearing on the flickering screen. For most trap survivors, this was a very obvious start to what soon became their nightmares—the famous Jigsaw puppet. It was an odd way of introducing someone to a torturous device from which you would most likely not get out alive, but if you did, it would be the trauma that kept the torture going. Either way, you were about to experience the most terrifying pain of your life. And Nia didn't know. Nia didn't know what it was all about. Besides not knowing where she was and how she got there, Nia had no idea who this 'Jigsaw-Killer-Guy' was. Because for the last few months, Nia had been busy trying to escape the shithole she was forced to call 'home'. She was looking for quick, easy jobs left and right that would give her just enough money to pass the month. She never had the chance to take a break. She never had the chance to watch TV. Whenever she heard a mention of Jigsaw's name leaving customer's mouths or in the news that played in the background of the few cafés she worked at, it was brushed off. Why would she care? Nia had only herself to care about.

Perhaps that was the mistake.

"Hello, Nia. You don't know me, but I know you."

A dark voice, difficult to follow from the old speaker, rang out each time the odd-looking puppet's jaw dropped. This was when Nia finally jerked her head towards the TV, still having a hard time keeping her head up. Her eyelids kept dropping, but her ears were open to listen as the voice continued, "You may now feel confused or frightened." There's a pause. "Angered." Nia began to make muffled noises, confused at that. She tasted metal, rust, and something pressed on her tongue that she couldn't push out of her mouth. Her head dropped again, and her eyes widened as she noticed the straps around her wrists and, when she looked further down, around her ankles too. Nia made another muffled whimper. Her heart started to race. She tried to struggle herself out of the tight restraints, but to no avail. No matter what she did or how she tried, she couldn't get off of that metal chair.

Before Nia tried to struggle again, she heard the voice explain, "But you should know not to lose. Here, I'll show you what happens if you do."

The white puppet disappeared in delay before there was something presented and instructed to her; she couldn't remember. The images and her memories were now only blurred into a few sections of that trauma. And Nia remembered the sudden explosive sound coming out of the television. She remembered the muffled scream she let out, which would have sounded much louder if the device around her head hadn't been hooked into her upper and lower jaws. "Permanently ripped open," the voice said, and Nia cried out. There was nothing to remember anymore, only parts.

...

"Oh, I know how it feels to let out that rage you're building up inside. Maybe this time not onto another person, but yourself," he said so simply, so understanding.

...

"Listen, Nia. There's only one key to open the device."

...

A bright light sprung out before her eyes from the ceiling. This light, resembling that of a spotlight, seemed to present a glass box not far from her feet. The glass walls of the box were too dirty to reveal any of the contents. Even from where she was sitting, she couldn't see anything. "Look in front of you. There's a glass box you're going to have to break in order to retrieve what's at fault for your sensitive heart."

...

Nia put the small invitation card back into her pocket after she took a look at the name again. "Bobby Dagen, survivor of the great Jigsaw killer," as the writing said. The name belonged to the man standing next to the group circle of other Jigsaw survivors. He's considered an author, or whatever—just some ordinary-looking guy with a pretty wife who's not over his traumatic experience yet. This 'Bobby', who was talking to his PR team at the time, organized this whole group meeting. But of course, with lots of cameras—more than enough so that the whole world was able to see what a truly amazing person he was, empathizing with survivors like him. Though Nia couldn't bother to remember his name again. She couldn't bother to join the group of people either. She preferred to sit somewhere near the exit, next to this one doctor, she couldn't remember the name of either. And Nia told herself that she was not like them. Not like those bunch of traumatized people who couldn't stop clinging to what made them eventually form this meeting. She saw tears rolling down faces and quivering lips that formed words she couldn't hear from where she was sitting. But it's not that talking about your experiences is necessarily a bad thing, Nia thought to herself. But in front of cameras? In front of everyone? Alternatively, if her mother hadn't convinced her that this would be the first step towards 'self-healing', and if she hadn't threatened to force therapists on her if she didn't agree, Nia would've still be rotting in her apartment.

Nia glanced over at the man next to her, who seemed to wear the same uninterested expression on his face as her. She couldn't help but slightly smile at that. The thought of having some sort of company with this was reassuring. Still, Nia had to sigh once more, looking impatiently around the room. She was waiting for the camera crew to finally send signals. And she carefully placed her hands on her shaking leg when she was about to switch her gaze to the author again. That's when she heard the chair next to her squeaking and the doctor in it asking her, "Does it still hurt?" He hesitantly pointed at her bandaged arms as Nia replied with a raised eyebrow. Without even realizing it, her arms shifted a little in his direction. "May I take a closer look?" the man asked, making sure. After a moment, she nodded.

His hands barely touched her arms. Instead, he gently turned her palms back and forth and lightly tapped a few spots, which she had no suspicion of. Nia attempted to read his face, and she hesitated at first. There was no way Nia would've told him the actual truth—that she didn't know what actually happened. What a stupid thing to believe, too, Nia thought. So Nia tried to come up with words to explain what had happened while he examined her arms. However, for some reason, she was unable to find those right words—or any words, for that matter. Only Uhh's and Yeah, well's formed her sentences before she started them all over again. The doctor offered her a small smile after he looked back up at her and assured her that there was nothing she should be concerned about. But his eyes lingered a little too long on her cheeks, causing Nia to switch her gaze.

Unsure why she did, Nia tilted her head slightly, asking the doctor almost in a whisper, "Do you believe Bobby?" Nia didn't know why she asked him that. She guessed that it might have been an attempt at starting up a conversation, which was already difficult and awkward enough for her in this situation. She saw a change in his expression that she couldn't quite pick up on. Nevertheless, there was no time for that when she heard Bobby's loud shout, "Welcome!" interrupting her from across the room. He opened the introduction with the same speech that is printed on the back cover of the book he published. It was the same choice of words that had the fancy-dressed PR team grinning with excitement behind the cameras. Nia, on the other hand, took his speech as an insult. The man next to her seemed to agree, as she huffed at Bobby's words. Bobby Dagen did not continue to speak for long before he sat back down in his chair and, with a bow, invited the survivors to share their stories as well. Or, as he put it, 'finding trust in him'.

But at first, there was silence. At first, the people's eyes in the group wandered around, unsure of where to begin. Some glances paused at the cameras until Bobby held up his palms to give in. "All right," he admitted, opening his eyes again. With one short exhale, he gestured to the random survivor he selected with an extended palm. "You made a decision, right?" he asked. The woman he was aiming this question at raised her head to reveal the dejected expression on her face. "A decision that saved your life," Bobby added. "How did that make you feel?" Her arms were folded tightly together, and she faltered before she answered with one single word, "Free." After a moment of silent crying, she continued, saying, "He was abusive. I tried to stop it before, but it wasn't until that moment that I really did something. It was him or me, and I chose to live. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. He gave me a choice." The woman seemed a little proud in her glassy eyes as Bobby gave her an understanding nod. But Nia simply shook her head, looking away before commenting, "Bullshit."

Nia's comment caught the attention of all the many eyes in the circle at once. Between the heads, she noticed Bobby staring at her, and as if by instinct, the cameras followed his gaze as they automatically shifted to her as well. As she went on, Nia made an effort to ignore the unexpected attention, even from the man beside her. "You chose to live? Is that what you're all talking about—having a choice?" The question was directed at every single survivor in the group. With that, she stretched out her arms in front of her to present the thick bandages wrapped around her skin. "Look at my arms!" she shouted. "I had to break a glass box, using my bare hands, for a key that didn't even fit the fucking lock. I had no damn choice. I was supposed to die."

...

"Live or die; make your choice."

This sentence still echoed inside Nia's head. Like a switch being flicked, it made her instantly think back to what had happened. How her knees collided with the freezing, stony ground and how her face was just inches from the glass box as she slowly lifted her head. She remembered her shaking hands groping the surface of the box, whispering little hopes for something as simple as a button that would open it. Hopefully, some answer would've saved her from this hell. But that hadn't been the case; she was forced to realize that as she began to pound her fists on the hard glass. She could barely hold herself upright, but the pain in her bones and the pain in her arms urged her to keep going. And with every swing and every hit, she heard the ticking of the timer at the back of her head getting louder. Her muffled screams grew louder until Nia was finally able to stick her arm through the broken, bloody opening with the sound of her skin ripping, which nearly made her vomit. The key tied to the thread sank deeper into the dirty glass shards, causing Nia to widen her eyes in terror. Like a crazed animal, she tried to dig and shovel the key out of the broken glass, and it took a while before she finally pulled it out. Without taking a single glance at the key, she quickly pressed it against the small lock at the back of her head.

But it didn't fit.

Nia still remembered the way her heart was pounding against her chest as she tried again and again and again, but the key just wouldn't fit into the lock. Nia yanked the key back into her sights again, struggling to calm her frantic gaze.

On the key were words engraved, "no second choices."

...

Nia carefully blinked back up at the crowd of people still staring at her. Despite her mouth being open, she didn't say a word. Instead, she pressed her lips together before spitting out a nasty, "That's bullshit. Jigsaw is bullshit." If only Nia could've caught the face the doctor made. Bobby, on the other hand, twitched his eyebrow as he clasped his hands together. "Well, you still decided to agree to the invitation, seeing you here. You survived," he said, speaking as if he were doing this as a profession.

Yet he didn't know anything. Her eyebrows shot up in fury, but Nia bit her tongue, preferring to lean back in her chair and find a way to somehow calm the anger that was boiling inside her. "There's no reason to be glad about surviving if you're wanted dead," Nia said. Bobby seemed a bit taken aback by her words. He did anything but answer, going through many facial expressions. And his last irritated look faded into relief when the cameras switched in his direction again. With that, his personality changed again in the blink of an eye. "But that's exactly what defines each one of us. We were forced to endure a traumatic experience," he concluded. "And I don't necessarily think that there can't be any positive outcome to that."

"Like what?" a woman in the circle asked. Bobby smiled, getting up from his chair again to deliver yet another speech.

"Fucking prick," Nia whispered in a snarl.

"Liar too," she kept going, feeling something tickling down her cheek. "Shit-" Red drops fell down her chin to sink into her white bandages. It was after another drop fell that Nia realized that the blood was coming from her cheeks. She carefully placed her fingers to touch the wounds that had undoubtedly reopened. Beside her, she could hear the doctor say something, but she didn't listen to what he exactly said. Instead, she continued to quickly rub her cheeks with her bandaged hands, but this only resulted in the blood smearing. "Are you alright, miss?" Nia felt herself becoming more nervous, and she leaned down to her bag before explaining, in short, "Wounds opened." Without giving him time to react, Nia rose from her seat to rush out of the room in hopes of finding the nearest bathroom. While she did, she was rummaging through her bag, seeking out any plasters, bandages, or even tissues that she knew she had thrown in earlier. For some reason, though, Nia found nothing, repeating the process over and over again. Stumbling, she eventually found the ladies' bathroom and pushed down the door handle with her elbow. "Where did I..." She pushed the door open with a swing of her hips.

Nia threw the bag into the sink and picked it up again from the bottom, shaking it like crazy. While she listened to the contents falling against the white ceramic, she kept asking herself, "Where?! Where?!" And as she searched through the dumped items like a madwoman, thankful that there appeared to be no one in those bathroom stalls, her eyes dared a few glances into the mirror. Her forehead creased. Nia carefully touched her right cheek with her tied fingers, nearing her reflection. The cuts weren't particularly huge, but they still hurt like hell, mostly on the right side. Nia turned on the faucet after taking far too many paper towels from the dispenser once the drips started hitting the sink. "Jesus," she murmured as she dabbed layers of paper towels on the corner of her lips.

"Jesus!" she yelled out this time as she heard a knock on the bathroom door behind her before it opened. her eyebrows together, she exhaled in relief when she recognized the person in the mirror's reflection. "It's you."

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't help but make sure," the doctor from before paused from where he was standing, noticing her startled reaction. His hand was still placed on the door as she asked him, "Make sure? Well, why? I..." Nia turned to the mirror once again, raising her hands from the sink's edge and bringing them to her lips. She started wiping again. "I don't think there's much you need to make sure of," she snorted under the paper. The man offered a small, hesitant smile before moving to the red first aid box, which was hanging on the wall next to him. Nia heard the little door of the box creak, sighing again. "I was about to head home anyway." And as the words left her mouth, Nia felt a hand on her cheek, followed by the feeling of a damp cloth being rubbed against her skin. She felt fingers carefully gripping her chin, and their faces being far too close to each other for strangers. He's a doctor, Nia assured herself, trying to avoid any attempt at making eye contact. Although she was a little embarrassed by the warmth in her cheeks, she let him continue. "There's really no need. It's just a bleeding, it'll close up again," Nia mumbled while he adhered plasters to her skin. His fingers left her face, and she looked back in the mirror. "I understand your feelings towards Jigsaw," Nia heard him say, which caused her to turn to face him again. The doctor didn't look at her; instead, he put her stuff back in her bag and washed the water over the basin to remove the blood drips. He discarded the rags in the trash can. "Having to saw off my own foot was more than just a challenge. He put me through hell." Nia nodded slowly. Now that he mentioned it, her eyes wandered to look at the cane the man was carrying close to him. He continued speaking, "But then again, I survived because he wanted me to."

"It definitely isn't the same with you."

Their gazes met in the mirror.

"What is it that you want to tell me, doctor?"

He smiled at the nickname she gave him before leaning against the sink, shifting his gaze from her reflection to her actual face. "Jigsaw wants people to cherish life again, so he gives his victims a second choice to achieve that. Seeing that you did not get a second choice but more of a death wish makes it hard to believe that it was actually Jigsaw."

Nia felt her heart sink at that very moment.

His little theorizing didn't line up with what she had convinced herself to believe. Or was it what she was convinced to believe? Nia didn't know it herself, and the thought made her shake her head. All she knew was what her wounds and the remaining memories allowed to reveal to her. But never did she try to theorize. "So, you're saying that Jigsaw has nothing to do with..." Her voice fell silent as she was unable to continue her sentence. Nia's eyes shut for a moment, trying to compose herself. The man hesitated until speaking again, "Well, not that he particularly has nothing to do with it, but who knows? Maybe Jigsaw was only an inspiration."

The disbelief in her expression was evident to him. And this caused him to close his mouth again. Nia remained silent, still in thought, and she stared around. She placed her hand on her bag, ready to grab it and storm out of the bathroom. But she didn't dare take a step towards the exit. Instead, she turned back to the man, facing him without actually looking at him. "Would you..."

"...bring me home?"

"Sure," he responded after a nod.

...

Nia muttered another thank you before opening her small mailbox to take out the stuffed stacks of letters. It took her a stronger push to close the mailbox door, keeping the letters in her arms. The lights flickered as Nia took her first step on the stairs, which caused her to blink up at the ceiling. Her gaze switched when she heard the man who had walked her home call her name. "Yeah?" Despite the distance between them, her soft voice still reached his ears. When he opened his mouth again, he was still standing by the exit, not having taken another step in her direction. "Don't worry so much, alright?" he assured her.

"Even though you may not believe it, it will get better. You will get better." Nia shrugged, snorting, "Sure." Yet she didn't take another step. "Thanks again for accompanying me home. I..." However, she quickly silenced herself as she remembered what the man had just told her. So she instead brought a smile to her lips, waving a small goodbye before walking up the rest of the steps. That's when she heard the exit door close. And when she got to her front door, she went through the various papers. Nothing particularly caught her eye. Nothing except this little card that didn't appear to be wrapped in any kind of envelope. As if it had just been thrown in. As Nia leaned in to read the little words inscribed on the card, her eyebrows wrinkled before she flipped it over a few more times again.

"Are there choices?"

...

"What do they mean by 'choices', Lawrence? This is getting absurd." Nia folded her arms back together after shoving the card towards his plate. She received a puzzled glance from the man seated across from her before he picked up the paper. He seemed to be merely thinking for a while. Meanwhile, her eyes scanned the restaurant they were at, fiddeling with her necklace. She made nervous attempts to avoid looking suspicious. His mouth began to form words when his gaze slowly returned to her. His expression seemed to remain the same. "This..." He waved the card a little. "Where did you get this?" he asked. "From my mailbox. The day you brought me home, remember?" she replied. "I don't know when this got there. No envelope, nothing. They know where I live." Nia leaned forward to keep their conversation as private as possible. "Lawrence," she whispered his name. "I'm sca..." Her voice broke, only leaving a desperate expression on her face. Lawrence, the man she was talking to, changed his expression. "You're safe," he assured her right away as he placed his hand on hers. Nia pursed her lips, not knowing what to believe. "This won't happen again. I promise." Nia's eyes wandered around the room again before she whispered to him once more, "How can you be so sure?" She continued, "They know where I live. I don't even know how I got kidnapped in the first place and now... Fuck, if it'll happen again, I-"

"-Nia." There was a pause in which Lawrence simply looked into her brown eyes. "I promise. I'll be there." The way Lawrence spoke those words, no matter how ridiculous it may seem, they made Nia feel some sort of surety. It made her nod and exhale this pressure she was feeling deep inside. "Alright. Okay." Her gaze turned away from him as she went on, "I just... I don't know what they would mean by that." Nia rested a palm on her forehead and used the table as support for her elbow. "What choices do I have? I mean, they, whoever it was, wanted me dead." Lawrence shook his head. "There weren't any choices given," he muttered almost to himself. "Exactly!" Nia's voice got a little louder than she intended to. She huffed, "And I still survived. Fuck knows why."

"I feel like I'm keeping secrets from myself." She picked up her fork, only to set it back down. Her appetite was long gone. And it didn't help staring at her food, falling into thought again. It was unclear to her why they had decided to have this conversation in a fine restaurant like this. Neither did she know why she picked out her favourite dress for this. "Hey, don't try to put so much pressure on yourself now. You've already endured enough." Lawrence's stern look somehow caused Nia to smirk. She somehow agreed.

"You know, either way, it's nice to finally talk to someone." The smirk stayed on her lips as she added, "It's been some time." He, on the other hand, looked a little surprised at first, but then quickly felt relief at the quick change in atmosphere. He smirked as well.

"Yes, I can't help but agree."

Quietly giggling, Nia heard him join in.

"I just hope you're right about me being safe."

...

In the end, Nia's memories summarized the entirety of her relationship with Lawrence. They remembered him as someone special. Someone who appeared ordinary to others but not to her. Because to her, he was everything for her. There were so many moments with him—so many that she longed to relive them again. There were so many words he said with such kindness that Nia initially believed she didn't deserve. And maybe it was like that. Whatever the case, Nia's memories of him always ended with their final conversation.

...

"No, you're right. I need to find some kind of new beginning in my life." Lawrence glanced up from his cup of coffee without lifting his head. He had his eyebrow raised as Nia kept speaking, "Like breaking glass. Trying to let go of the past, y'know?" Nia laughed at herself for her poor choice of metaphor. "Nevermind." The flush warming up her cheeks was obvious to notice. But Lawrence knew what she was trying to imply, nodding before asking, "A new beginning, you say?" with enough comprehension in his voice. "And what would you consider your start to be like?" Nia didn't expect him to ask a question like that; he could tell by her face. "Well, you see..." She exhaled. "I have no idea." And Nia giggled again, seeming unsure whether to tell him or not. "Anything to pull myself out of this mess I feel like I'm living in. No yoga or anything silly like that," she tried, but she couldn't think of anything. Instead, she continued to stir her tea, waiting for some genius idea to finally form. So she spoke again, "Maybe I'll finally decide on a new job? I've been to a few different places now. I got enough experience, I guess."

"What do you say?" Lawrence stopped sipping, listening carefully.

"Maybe even switching states, too? Saying my final goodbyes to this shithole New Jersey is? I heard San Francisco is nice." Nia kept on wondering, murmuring to herself, "Expensive but nice..." The way she talked about her dreams made it seem as if that's all they were—simple dreams. It sounded meaningless, no more than a joke for her to even consider, based on the way Lawrence could hear it in her voice. He let out a soft sigh. "Oh, Nia, you're doing it again." She seemed a little surprised by his words. "What?" Lawrence put his coffee back on the table. "This." His hand gestured to her face. "You talk as if you don't trust yourself."

"What do you mean, I..."

"Nia, I know you'll do it," he said. Nia shut her mouth. "You're doing good. Better even. But if you keep on wondering and never dare to take the first step, those dreams will eat you up. Nia, it's okay."

"I know you'll do it."

She didn't know what else to do but thank him. And he told her, "Not for this," with a smile so warm.

She never would have imagined kissing it like she did.

#i’m delusional #saw #saw fanfic #dr lawrence gordon #lawrence give me a chance #i can cook #i can clean

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