Alice

The alarm clock beeped in its irritating manner. With a groan, Chase slipped out of bed. The sheets were mangled from tossing and turning in his sleep. His bones cracked as he walked towards the washroom, flicking on the light. A tired man greeted him in the mirror. Chase rubbed a hand over his face, stifling a yawn. The faucet roared to life as he proceeded to wash up.

He lathered his chin and neck, following his daily routine. The razor gleamed as he held it within his line of sight. You're getting old Chase, nearing forty and you look like you've aged a bit over that. The detective curled his lip in particular disdain at his wary thoughts. He began to shave, edging towards his neck…

A ring in the nearby distance halted him from continuing his action. He jolted in perhaps paranoia or alertness. Mother Fu- The blood began to trickle in a steady stream, staining the collar of his shirt. Chase scowled, quickly moving to the phone. He grumbled to no one in particular, "This better be good and worth my blood…" The sarcasm oozed from his voice or it may have been the tart irony.

"Detective Chase Sommers reporting."

"Sommers, we've got another. Come down to the prescient. You're gonna wanna hear about this one," a cop's voice drawled from the other line.

He rubbed his face once more, "Christ. Another victim pertaining to the Jigsaw case?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I'll be right there."

And so he was. Chase quickly patched his wound. It stung as the water and soap skimmed over it. He threw on his suit and was out the door without a second thought. Drumming his fingers upon the steering wheel, he drove towards the source of all his devotion. The source of all my obsession. He grimly thought.

He tossed his keys into his pocket, walking up towards a group of cops whom quickly acknowledged him. Sommers gave a nod of recognition. With a flick of the wrist, he pulled out a cigarette and his beloved lighter. The flame sparked to life as he inhaled the refreshing smoke (at least it felt soothing to him). The detective nodded as they each spoke, though it all seemed to blend together.

"What happened to you? Ya look like you had a bit of a fight with yer razor this mornin'."

"…Another victim…"

"…Female… Near forty…"

"…Abandoned warehouse."

The dark vehicle quickly fell in line with the other police cruisers. By the donning minute, he was growing more and more impatient which was unlike his natural behavior. Every few moments, he would glance into the rearview or side mirrors. His heartbeat thudded inconsistently. He was nervous, but for whatever reason? Chase took the opportunity to console himself, "Stop it. Calm down. You're giving yourself a scare."

They walked like a pack of wolves closing in on their prey. Upon entering the building, Chase was left aghast and in total disarray. He backed away from the battered victim, trying his best to recollect his senses. A wave of nausea bubbled from the pit of his stomach. That was when he lost himself. Beads of sweat slide down from his temple. A fellow coworker had to help him maintain his balance.

The atmosphere is as dark as always. Panic erupts from the heart of the female confined to the room. A crackled voice plays, "Hello Alice, I'd like to play a game. I know you, but you don't know me. For years, you have been slowly killing yourself and destroying the faith of those around you. You've become a bitter alcoholic and now is the time to redeem yourself."

"Alice! Oh God! Why?" Chase dropped to his knees, arms hanging loosely by their sides. Despair contorted his features. He was thrown into a fit of hysterics. His fellow men were silent, a few muttering to one another about this particular case. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes. His chest heaved, trying to reclaim the air he so desperately needed. I've got to pull myself together. It seemed like he now had a greater reason to put all of his motivation into.

"Looks like the murderer was gearin' to strike a nerve, eh?"

Chase could barely hear the gossip, or so-called facts, as he hopeless stared at the disfigured body. Gulping, he shakily rose. Yet, he couldn't handle it. He lost all contents of what he tried to consume this morning and the previous night. A blonde officer wrapped an arm around Chase to give him support, enabling him to rise all the more.

Keep your face made of stone and they'll suspect that you did it. But you didn't, Chase. That's what counts. You still have to ask… Why? And… How? His voice trembled as he spoke, "Tell me the…the details, Officer."

"Alright, Detective Sommers…"

A certain franticness lurks in Alice's eyes as her heartbeat speeds up. Her breathing is shallow, irregular. The unidentified voice continues to speak, "There is a toxin that is rapidly flowing throughout your body, reminiscent of your desire to drown away your sorrows. In order to get the antidote, you must crawl through the bed of knives that rest before you, symbolic of the pain you've bestowed upon others. You have but a minute. Make your choice."

The voice crackles, slowly fading away until Alice is left alone. She bites down on her lip, murmuring her apologies. Of course, they're of no use. She's not that desperate, is she? Alice chokes and sobs, wasting her time with incoherent nonsense. Finally, she makes a decision that will impact her.

Instead of rushing through the so-called trap, Alice proceeds with a steady crawl. The blades sink into her flesh and she cries out from pure agony. The blood splatters upon the ground. An unknown wildness appears in her eyes. It's like going mad, yes, but at the same time it's something completely different. You tap into your core being and unlock… This.

The screams echo throughout the room. The pain remains a constant throb. Even the adrenaline cannot cure this. The red numbers flash before her in all mockery. Time is running out and she is becoming aware of this impending factor. She tries to go faster, but the knives are merciless and unfathomably cruel.

"Game over."

One final scream. Her body is now impaled upon the blades. The blood pools around her mangled corpse.

Like a child, he couldn't help but to be compelled. Chase stared with his expression aghast as the horror never quite left his eyes. He covered his ears, wanting to hear no more. He wanted to look away, but he could not. He wanted to repress his speech, but knew he could not. Somehow, deep down, Chase felt as if she deserved it. For all of the pain Alice bestowed upon him and others…

"What am I thinking?" His voice grew shrill.

"Yes, Detective Sommers; what are you thinking?" Oh no. Sommers was not in the mood for that smug tone and challenging smirk. He repressed the urge to come up with witty banter or throw useless sarcasm. Instead, he sighed wearily turning to see Detective Mark Hoffman once more in Chase's current, crouched position. He slowly rose, cramming his hands into his pockets. Rocking back and forth upon his heels, his gaze slowly wandered towards the- Alice… Before turning back.

Did I shout that aloud? "I'm, um, just trying to get the facts straight. My mind's traveling in a million directions at once. It's boggling not to mention troublesome. Victims continuously pop up like weeds upon a well-groomed lawn." Strange analogy, but it worked for Sommers.

"I see," Hoffman said with a bemused smile upon his face. How irksome. Did Agent Strahm ever feel this way? Hoffman continued to drone on about the victim, the cases; "…As I was saying, Detective Sommers, I came here to apologize to you for my previous actions. Namely, of myself accusing you. Will you take my act of contrition?"

"Huh?" Chase quickly snapped out of his zoned out trance. He ruffled his brown locks, blinking tiredly. You've got to have an ulterior motive, Hoffman. STOP IT. Jesus fucking Christ, you're losing yourself here. It could happen to anyone. Paranoia has the tendency to follow people like the plague or better yet- a shadow. This was the exact case for Chase. His line of work and what he was pursuing had a devastating toll on him.

"You seem to have a lot on your mind, Detective. My apology, will you accept?" An arch of the brow followed by a beguiling smile. The bandages had been previously removed. Chase could see that much. The jagged scar, just as he imagined it, ran alongside his cheek and jaw and he couldn't help but to grimace.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry, just tired… Tired of a lot of crap. Yes, no problem. You just want to break the case just like myself."

"You look like you could go for a breath of fresh air. Why don't you walk with me?"