SAW: Hoffman

Doctor

"What the-"

Hoffman blinked against the harsh fluorescent lighting and froze.

"No.."

He was in the infamous Jigsaw bathroom trap, the place of demise for so many people who had been tested over the years.

A letter was thrown in the centre of the room, its contents addressed to Detective Mark Hoffman.

Mark tried to get to his feet and fell to his knees on the hard tiles, cursing his attackers.

His foot was chained to the pipe.

How had he not noticed that before?

"Damn it." He slid across the floor towards the letter and cursed in frustration as his fingers stretched a few inches away from the paper.

"Does it hurt?" A soft English voice called from the door, "Do you like how it feels, Mark? To be so desperate?"

"What the fu-"

Dr Lawrence Gordon limped into view, his beady eyes landing on the hand saw just as Mark lunged towards it.

His cane struck out and drew the saw to the smirking blonde man who had been the cause of Jigsaw's misdiagnosis.

"I don't think so." He whispered tauntingly, throwing the saw out into the dark gloom of the corridor where Hoffman himself had walked alongside John and Amanda to this very room.

"What do you think you're doing? Huh?"

Gordon grinned twistedly and stared over at the rotting flesh of his foot, his real foot.

Mark snatched up the letter and yanked on the chain desperately, seeing the dark intent in Gordon's eyes that do often greeted him in the mirror.

Gordon turned to leave without another word.

"You can't do this to me! No!"

"Game over." The doctor hissed as he drew the door across and the room plunged into silence.

Mark began to scream, his vocal cords cracking from the lack of use they had received over the past few months.

His hand tightened on the paper in his hand until the sharp edges cut through his skin.

Panting, he fell back into a sitting position against the wall and drew the paper close to his gaze.

Mark,

I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for what I said to you that night. I should have explained.

I was talking to Strahm that day because he threatened to arrest me if I had anything else to do with you. Believe me if you want, but that's the truth.

I left L.A for those few months on my internship because I was scared; scared of what happened, scared of my feelings. I was worried that you were something inhuman.

I knew that the only way I could get past the incident was by moving to another side of the city and trying to forget you.

As you can see, that obviously didn't work, but I want you to know that I have never held anything against you, Hoffman.

You've lost your way in life, but maybe someday you can find it again, and if or when you do, I'll be waiting.

Yours,
Cyan Rivera

Mark held the letter to his chest and groaned.

"Where the hell did you get this?"

A faint tapping outside the door alerted him to Gordon's presence.

"She left it outside your apartment before you...Well, we don't need any specifics here, do we? She thought you were there that day because you read the letter. How tragic."

Could it be true?

He remembered the hope in her eyes, the smile she had given him over her shoulder as she went for her first aid kit.

"Cy...I didn't know..."

He felt the world slip away.

"I didn't..."