Prequel
Saw Prequel, The Backstory of Jigsaw
I lived in a pretty broken home as a child. My parents divorced before I can even remember. My dads reasoning for leaving my mom was that he couldn’t handle the pressure of having a child. He left my mom to raise me on my own. Although it may have been tough to raise a child on her own, she did a fantastic job and I was always so proud to call her my mom. From the womb to the age of nine, I lived at home with her, until he came back. My mom was initially fairly resistant to letting him back into the family due to his abusive tendencies from the past, but he kept bringing up the point that I was his child too. After over a year of disagreeing and persuading, my mother finally let him back into our lives. But none of us knew that he has gotten worse.
There was a lot that we didn’t know about my dad when my mom remarried him. But he played it off for the first couple of years that he was a good guy. He lied. He began to start fighting with my mom day after day. Over the little things too. As in who would go and pick me up from school, arguments about chores and much more. If there was something that an argument could be sparked out of, he’d find a way to light the fire. What I didn’t know is that he has been drinking very heavily recently. He was able to hide this from little twelve year old me. But there was one night where my mom and dad were shouting at each other from their bedroom and I could hear them. I was very scared because I didn’t want dad to leave us again. But then I heard it, she yelled that if he would stop drinking so much, that he could be raise me right and be an actual father figure to me rather then another bad influence. When my father wasn’t intoxicated we would play games together. Sometimes we’d play scrabble, maybe some connect four, or even sone battle ship. But nothing compared to the amount of time we put into solving jigsaw puzzles. My dad was also a jokester. One day he purposely grabbed a puzzle piece off of the table to intentionally make me mad and freak out because I couldn’t finish the puzzle. This felt like the end of the world for me and it made me extremely sad. But my father thought it was the funniest thing to have happened in history. Since I was very stressed and worked up about the missing piece of the puzzle, I thought I’d do what my dad does. I went into the bottom cabinet nearest to the corner of the room and I searched for whatever I could find. That’s where my dad went every night before he starts acting aggressive every night. I took a sip from a fairly large, clear bottle of liquor. It burned me. I liked that feeling for some reason. I then ended up taking a couple more sips from the bottle. I twisted the cap back on to the bottle and put it back into the cabinet. I tried to put it back the same exact way that I took it out so my dad would have less of a chance at knowing I messed with his alcohol. I tried to shut the cabinet doors as quietly as I could, but of course, my hand slipped. There is a bottle opener key chain hanging from the door knob of that one cabinet. My dad ended up hearing that and he knew exactly what was going on as he walked over from the bathroom where he was shaving. My dad had already had a couple of drinks that night so he clearly wasn’t thinking properly. This scared me because whenever he drank he got aggressive. As he walked into the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of me running towards my room to hide from him. He ran at me, with his face still covered in shaving cream and a razor in hand, and grabbed me because I had run into the door frame and stumbled. He was very rough when he grabbed me. He then shook me while yelling at me, why I did that and what was I thinking. But the entire time he was shaking me, the razor in his hand was cutting me in many different places. In all honesty, this scarred me. My mom heard the shouting from her room and busted through the door to come and get intoxicated me away from my drunk father. Once she pried me away from my fathers tight grasp, there was one final cut and that cut dug deep. In all honesty I don’t think I would’ve survived if my mother wasn’t a nurse. I would’ve had to go to the hospital but since my mother knew every step that she needed to take for me to recover, she didn’t need to spend a ton of money for me to stay in the hospital. After she rushed me to the bathroom she put me into the bathtub so I wouldn’t make a mess everywhere. She grabbed a couple of towels for me to hold up to some of the more dangerous cuts while she tended to the more major one on my leg. After keeping enough pressure on the wound for long enough, it stopped bleeding. My mom put butterfly bandages on my cuts to keep them sealed together and after enough wiping and cleaning, I was able to go back to my room while my mom shouted at my dad for doing that to me. My mom nearly split off from him again, but she decided to give him another chance for some reason. But she didn’t let him stay at the house until I was fully recovered. Although me and my father had a lot of incidents throughout my childhood, he did teach me a lot about the career I wanted to pursue. Since my dad was an engineer, he had taught me a lot about what it takes to be an engineer and it stuck with me, that was for sure what I wanted to do with my life. Although my dad sparked a fire in me for engineering, he also sparked a fire under me that was very twisted. My father passed away from alcohol poisoning. I didn’t want to see anyone throw their lives away because they are unaware of how precious it is, so i vowed to make people understand, one way or another.
I based my first trap on that one incident with the razor. I chose that one man because he had been cutting himself purposely with a razor and he needs to learn to appreciate his life. Because life is precious and if it wasn’t for my mom, I wouldn’t be here today all because of a razor.
My mission for all of these rooms is for people to realize how precious life is. If they dint think life is precious, then they can have a chance to play in one of my many “games.” For my first victim I chose the man who had been cutting himself. I undressed him so he couldn’t hide his scars and so he would have to work harder, through the pain, to be able to survive. I found a room underground and chose for my first trap location to be there. I placed over three hundred yards of barbed wire inside of this underground metal cage. With only one exit that he can escape from, the man will have to push through the pain to be able to survive. And if he doesn’t start moving, the door will close because I put it on a timer. I learned that trick from my father when I was in college. I tranquilized this man and inserted him inside the underground cage. While he was still unconscious, I took my buck knife that I had bought for me back in college for protection, and cut off a piece of his flesh. This intrigued me, so I continued to peel away at his flesh until the gash was in the shape of a piece from a jigsaw puzzle. About ten minutes prior to him waking up, I took my old tape recorder from when I was a kid, cleared off all of the songs my parents had recorded of me singing, and recorded myself saying why he was in the barbed wire room he was in, what he had to do to live, how long he has, and lastly that he’s there because he didn’t appreciate his own life because he had been cutting himself. I enjoy watching my victims suffer, so I cut a hole into the wall so I would be able to watch this man struggle for his life. At first, he panicked and was afraid. He didn’t even consider trying to get through the barbed wire. After the first hour and a half swiftly drifted by, he mustered up enough courage to make a run for the door due to there not being much time left on the clock that I had left for him. Prior to his final push for the door, he tried slowly easing his way through the wire to avoid as much pain as he could. This wasn’t effective because it was taking too much time. He began to panic as he saw the clock with under five minutes left. He then decided to make a run for the door. He pushed through all of that pain and suffering just to end up dying from blood loss nearly two feet away from the exit. Although it was minimally sad to me to see that man die, I was able to make him appreciate his own life before he passed.
As you can see, I have made all of my traps to resemble the same terrors and twisted punishments from my abusive father from when I was a child. The next trap I had set up was based off of a night where my dad and I were camping together. He had set up a campfire for us to sit around. My dad ended up drinking a bit too much as per usual. And he and his friend ended up getting in an argument about politics. I was just slumping deeper and deeper into my chair because my dad gradually has progressively raised his voice louder and louder. That scared me immensely, but before I knew it, my dad had thrown his drink. The glass had shattered everywhere and the alcohol still left in his bottle got on my clothes. As I was getting up to go change my sweatshirt, a spark flew up from the fire pit and had caught my clothes on fire. As I dodged to the side of my chair to stop, drop, and roll, as I was taught as a child, I rolled into the shattered beer bottles that had broken les then a minute prior. The glass cut me in many places because I didn’t realize it was a cut at first, I thought the warm feelings were just from the flames. It turns out I was wrong. My heavily intoxicated dad took me inside the cabin to get me patched up. As he was putting the final bandage on my left forearm, he made me vow to not tell my mom, because if I would tell her, he’d get in an immense amount of trouble. I was always afraid of my dad when he was drinking so I agreed to the promise. I later found out that my dad had gotten alcohol poisoning that night.
That was the outline for my next trap room. I chose a man named mark, he has faked being ill many times, so I saw this as the perfect opportunity for him to be the next special guest of mine. Through the recording I had left for him, I told him I had injected him with some sort of poison. But in reality I only said that so he would have to move around and work quickly. I had set up a safe with a key inside of it which would’ve unlocked the room meaning he would’ve been free to leave. I listed numbers from the floor of the room, all the way up to the ceiling. There could’ve been over a trillion combinations that he would’ve had to try to get out, but I had painted the correct numbers randomly throughout the room in a different color so they would be distinguishable if you get close enough. On a table in the middle of the dark room, I left a candle with some matches next to my tape recorded. His only source of light was that candle. I had lathered this man up with a thick, highly flammable jelly like substance so he had to be extra careful if he desired to live. But that wasn’t the only twist. I had crushed over five dozen glass bottles on the floor. He needed to push through the pain of walking barefoot on the glass to be able to even think about surviving. And watching this all unfold through the peephole I made brought me a great thrill. It look like he was beginning to cave in and appreciate his life as it was slowly draining from his eyes while his once lively body slowly charred and rested atop the glass. For this room I used the safe to resemble the hospital that my dad went to when he had alcohol poisoning. And the “antidote” was the key to get out, just like the key to survival was in the doctors hands at the hospital.
My final most well known trap room was made for two people who had abused opioids. I chose these two subjects because that’s how my father ended up passing away. He didn’t think what my mom was giving him was enough, so he started taking drugs. After a while he ended up trying heroine at a petty that my mom didn’t know he was going to and from then on he became addicted. Less then a year later, he died from overdosing. My dad really didn’t see how good of a life my mom was giving him even after all of the horrible stuff that he did to the two of us. He didn’t appreciate his own life, and ended up taking it all due to an overdose.
These two people had both been abusing opioids and I chose them for just that reason. I took one subject and overdosed him on the opioid. I then surgically implanted a key inside of his small intestine. I chose the small intestine due to my fathers intentional issues throughout my life while he was still around. What the woman in the reverse bear trap mask had to do was to one, escape the bindings she was tied into on her chair, and two, to then escape the mask. I chose the bear trap mask because around the age of eighteen, my dad went on a hunting trip with one of his buddies. But that hunting trip was severely cut short due to my father getting his arm caught in a bear trap and him needing many stitches. Anyway, I set the timer for only a short amount of time, therefore she’d have to act quickly if she wished to have any chance at survival. To escape the mask, she needed to dig the key out of the mans intestines. While only using a knife about the size of a letter opener. This girl, I believe, truly appreciated life because she dug right into the man with the knife with little to no hesitation. After the key was found, I saw through the peephole that she was barely able to get the key into the lock, twist it, and pop off the bear trap before the timer went off and the trap snapped open. She was truly fortunate that she made it out alive. This is my most known trap due to there being someone left to tell the story. After she got it of the room, she went directly to the police. I’m no fool so I cleaned up every trace of evidence that I had been there so they could not trace it back to me. If it wasn’t for the jigsaw puzzle piece carved out of her back, they would’ve never known that I was the one who arranged everything.
Everyone calls me a murderer, but I have never killed anyone before, they have only done it themselves. The first man cut himself to death while attempting to escape the room of barbed wire. The next man burned himself alive, and all that I had to do was trick him into thinking that he was poisoned to do so. And for the last woman, she was the one who killed the man with the key in his stomach, not me. Therefore I am completely innocent of all charges against me for murder due to the fact that I have never killed someone myself.
I lived in a pretty broken home as a child. My parents divorced before I can even remember. My dads reasoning for leaving my mom was that he couldn’t handle the pressure of having a child. He left my mom to raise me on my own. Although it may have been tough to raise a child on her own, she did a fantastic job and I was always so proud to call her my mom. From the womb to the age of nine, I lived at home with her, until he came back. My mom was initially fairly resistant to letting him back into the family due to his abusive tendencies from the past, but he kept bringing up the point that I was his child too. After over a year of disagreeing and persuading, my mother finally let him back into our lives. But none of us knew that he has gotten worse.
There was a lot that we didn’t know about my dad when my mom remarried him. But he played it off for the first couple of years that he was a good guy. He lied. He began to start fighting with my mom day after day. Over the little things too. As in who would go and pick me up from school, arguments about chores and much more. If there was something that an argument could be sparked out of, he’d find a way to light the fire. What I didn’t know is that he has been drinking very heavily recently. He was able to hide this from little twelve year old me. But there was one night where my mom and dad were shouting at each other from their bedroom and I could hear them. I was very scared because I didn’t want dad to leave us again. But then I heard it, she yelled that if he would stop drinking so much, that he could be raise me right and be an actual father figure to me rather then another bad influence. When my father wasn’t intoxicated we would play games together. Sometimes we’d play scrabble, maybe some connect four, or even sone battle ship. But nothing compared to the amount of time we put into solving jigsaw puzzles. My dad was also a jokester. One day he purposely grabbed a puzzle piece off of the table to intentionally make me mad and freak out because I couldn’t finish the puzzle. This felt like the end of the world for me and it made me extremely sad. But my father thought it was the funniest thing to have happened in history. Since I was very stressed and worked up about the missing piece of the puzzle, I thought I’d do what my dad does. I went into the bottom cabinet nearest to the corner of the room and I searched for whatever I could find. That’s where my dad went every night before he starts acting aggressive every night. I took a sip from a fairly large, clear bottle of liquor. It burned me. I liked that feeling for some reason. I then ended up taking a couple more sips from the bottle. I twisted the cap back on to the bottle and put it back into the cabinet. I tried to put it back the same exact way that I took it out so my dad would have less of a chance at knowing I messed with his alcohol. I tried to shut the cabinet doors as quietly as I could, but of course, my hand slipped. There is a bottle opener key chain hanging from the door knob of that one cabinet. My dad ended up hearing that and he knew exactly what was going on as he walked over from the bathroom where he was shaving. My dad had already had a couple of drinks that night so he clearly wasn’t thinking properly. This scared me because whenever he drank he got aggressive. As he walked into the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of me running towards my room to hide from him. He ran at me, with his face still covered in shaving cream and a razor in hand, and grabbed me because I had run into the door frame and stumbled. He was very rough when he grabbed me. He then shook me while yelling at me, why I did that and what was I thinking. But the entire time he was shaking me, the razor in his hand was cutting me in many different places. In all honesty, this scarred me. My mom heard the shouting from her room and busted through the door to come and get intoxicated me away from my drunk father. Once she pried me away from my fathers tight grasp, there was one final cut and that cut dug deep. In all honesty I don’t think I would’ve survived if my mother wasn’t a nurse. I would’ve had to go to the hospital but since my mother knew every step that she needed to take for me to recover, she didn’t need to spend a ton of money for me to stay in the hospital. After she rushed me to the bathroom she put me into the bathtub so I wouldn’t make a mess everywhere. She grabbed a couple of towels for me to hold up to some of the more dangerous cuts while she tended to the more major one on my leg. After keeping enough pressure on the wound for long enough, it stopped bleeding. My mom put butterfly bandages on my cuts to keep them sealed together and after enough wiping and cleaning, I was able to go back to my room while my mom shouted at my dad for doing that to me. My mom nearly split off from him again, but she decided to give him another chance for some reason. But she didn’t let him stay at the house until I was fully recovered. Although me and my father had a lot of incidents throughout my childhood, he did teach me a lot about the career I wanted to pursue. Since my dad was an engineer, he had taught me a lot about what it takes to be an engineer and it stuck with me, that was for sure what I wanted to do with my life. Although my dad sparked a fire in me for engineering, he also sparked a fire under me that was very twisted. My father passed away from alcohol poisoning. I didn’t want to see anyone throw their lives away because they are unaware of how precious it is, so i vowed to make people understand, one way or another.
I based my first trap on that one incident with the razor. I chose that one man because he had been cutting himself purposely with a razor and he needs to learn to appreciate his life. Because life is precious and if it wasn’t for my mom, I wouldn’t be here today all because of a razor.
My mission for all of these rooms is for people to realize how precious life is. If they dint think life is precious, then they can have a chance to play in one of my many “games.” For my first victim I chose the man who had been cutting himself. I undressed him so he couldn’t hide his scars and so he would have to work harder, through the pain, to be able to survive. I found a room underground and chose for my first trap location to be there. I placed over three hundred yards of barbed wire inside of this underground metal cage. With only one exit that he can escape from, the man will have to push through the pain to be able to survive. And if he doesn’t start moving, the door will close because I put it on a timer. I learned that trick from my father when I was in college. I tranquilized this man and inserted him inside the underground cage. While he was still unconscious, I took my buck knife that I had bought for me back in college for protection, and cut off a piece of his flesh. This intrigued me, so I continued to peel away at his flesh until the gash was in the shape of a piece from a jigsaw puzzle. About ten minutes prior to him waking up, I took my old tape recorder from when I was a kid, cleared off all of the songs my parents had recorded of me singing, and recorded myself saying why he was in the barbed wire room he was in, what he had to do to live, how long he has, and lastly that he’s there because he didn’t appreciate his own life because he had been cutting himself. I enjoy watching my victims suffer, so I cut a hole into the wall so I would be able to watch this man struggle for his life. At first, he panicked and was afraid. He didn’t even consider trying to get through the barbed wire. After the first hour and a half swiftly drifted by, he mustered up enough courage to make a run for the door due to there not being much time left on the clock that I had left for him. Prior to his final push for the door, he tried slowly easing his way through the wire to avoid as much pain as he could. This wasn’t effective because it was taking too much time. He began to panic as he saw the clock with under five minutes left. He then decided to make a run for the door. He pushed through all of that pain and suffering just to end up dying from blood loss nearly two feet away from the exit. Although it was minimally sad to me to see that man die, I was able to make him appreciate his own life before he passed.
As you can see, I have made all of my traps to resemble the same terrors and twisted punishments from my abusive father from when I was a child. The next trap I had set up was based off of a night where my dad and I were camping together. He had set up a campfire for us to sit around. My dad ended up drinking a bit too much as per usual. And he and his friend ended up getting in an argument about politics. I was just slumping deeper and deeper into my chair because my dad gradually has progressively raised his voice louder and louder. That scared me immensely, but before I knew it, my dad had thrown his drink. The glass had shattered everywhere and the alcohol still left in his bottle got on my clothes. As I was getting up to go change my sweatshirt, a spark flew up from the fire pit and had caught my clothes on fire. As I dodged to the side of my chair to stop, drop, and roll, as I was taught as a child, I rolled into the shattered beer bottles that had broken les then a minute prior. The glass cut me in many places because I didn’t realize it was a cut at first, I thought the warm feelings were just from the flames. It turns out I was wrong. My heavily intoxicated dad took me inside the cabin to get me patched up. As he was putting the final bandage on my left forearm, he made me vow to not tell my mom, because if I would tell her, he’d get in an immense amount of trouble. I was always afraid of my dad when he was drinking so I agreed to the promise. I later found out that my dad had gotten alcohol poisoning that night.
That was the outline for my next trap room. I chose a man named mark, he has faked being ill many times, so I saw this as the perfect opportunity for him to be the next special guest of mine. Through the recording I had left for him, I told him I had injected him with some sort of poison. But in reality I only said that so he would have to move around and work quickly. I had set up a safe with a key inside of it which would’ve unlocked the room meaning he would’ve been free to leave. I listed numbers from the floor of the room, all the way up to the ceiling. There could’ve been over a trillion combinations that he would’ve had to try to get out, but I had painted the correct numbers randomly throughout the room in a different color so they would be distinguishable if you get close enough. On a table in the middle of the dark room, I left a candle with some matches next to my tape recorded. His only source of light was that candle. I had lathered this man up with a thick, highly flammable jelly like substance so he had to be extra careful if he desired to live. But that wasn’t the only twist. I had crushed over five dozen glass bottles on the floor. He needed to push through the pain of walking barefoot on the glass to be able to even think about surviving. And watching this all unfold through the peephole I made brought me a great thrill. It look like he was beginning to cave in and appreciate his life as it was slowly draining from his eyes while his once lively body slowly charred and rested atop the glass. For this room I used the safe to resemble the hospital that my dad went to when he had alcohol poisoning. And the “antidote” was the key to get out, just like the key to survival was in the doctors hands at the hospital.
My final most well known trap room was made for two people who had abused opioids. I chose these two subjects because that’s how my father ended up passing away. He didn’t think what my mom was giving him was enough, so he started taking drugs. After a while he ended up trying heroine at a petty that my mom didn’t know he was going to and from then on he became addicted. Less then a year later, he died from overdosing. My dad really didn’t see how good of a life my mom was giving him even after all of the horrible stuff that he did to the two of us. He didn’t appreciate his own life, and ended up taking it all due to an overdose.
These two people had both been abusing opioids and I chose them for just that reason. I took one subject and overdosed him on the opioid. I then surgically implanted a key inside of his small intestine. I chose the small intestine due to my fathers intentional issues throughout my life while he was still around. What the woman in the reverse bear trap mask had to do was to one, escape the bindings she was tied into on her chair, and two, to then escape the mask. I chose the bear trap mask because around the age of eighteen, my dad went on a hunting trip with one of his buddies. But that hunting trip was severely cut short due to my father getting his arm caught in a bear trap and him needing many stitches. Anyway, I set the timer for only a short amount of time, therefore she’d have to act quickly if she wished to have any chance at survival. To escape the mask, she needed to dig the key out of the mans intestines. While only using a knife about the size of a letter opener. This girl, I believe, truly appreciated life because she dug right into the man with the knife with little to no hesitation. After the key was found, I saw through the peephole that she was barely able to get the key into the lock, twist it, and pop off the bear trap before the timer went off and the trap snapped open. She was truly fortunate that she made it out alive. This is my most known trap due to there being someone left to tell the story. After she got it of the room, she went directly to the police. I’m no fool so I cleaned up every trace of evidence that I had been there so they could not trace it back to me. If it wasn’t for the jigsaw puzzle piece carved out of her back, they would’ve never known that I was the one who arranged everything.
Everyone calls me a murderer, but I have never killed anyone before, they have only done it themselves. The first man cut himself to death while attempting to escape the room of barbed wire. The next man burned himself alive, and all that I had to do was trick him into thinking that he was poisoned to do so. And for the last woman, she was the one who killed the man with the key in his stomach, not me. Therefore I am completely innocent of all charges against me for murder due to the fact that I have never killed someone myself.