Disclaimer: I do not own The Twilight Saga, The Saw Series, or any of their affiliates.

Chapter 17: Rods

"Jacob!" Rosalie yelled, running towards his body, "No! You can't be dead!" She ran to the front of him and held his shoulders. She looked down at his mangled body, the saw straight through the middle of him, and a tear rolled down her face. She put her hand on his face and gently stroked it.

Edward walked around next to Rosalie. He put his hand on her shoulder, but he was not focused on consoling her at all. His eyes were jumping around the room, searching for a key. He looked down at the saw in between Jacob's legs. He looked at the floor underneath Jacob. He could not see a glimmer of silver anywhere.

"I can't believe he's dead." Rosalie was speaking out loud to Edward. "He was such a good man. First, he was close to loosing his young girlfriend; then, he almost lost her again. I could see his heart break when Renesmee died, and now, despite everything he did to help others here, he is dead." Rosalie shook her head.

Edward shook out of his daze. "What? Yeah, I know; it's sad." He looked over at the bed, hoping to see something. When his search came back empty, he cursed. "Where is the damn key?"

Rosalie shook her shoulder out of Edward's grasp. She kept one hand on Jacob and glared at Edward. "What is wrong with you? You only care about those damn keys. He just died, and you have the nerve to talk about finding the damn key."

"Of course I want to find the key." Edward backed up to get a better view of the room. "I want to get out of here. If I don't have eight keys by the end of this, I'm stuck in this fucking shit hole for the rest of my life. I don't particularly want that."

Rosalie stepped back and stared at Edward; she could not bear the sight of him. "I love how it's all about you, you, you. What about me? I'm still alive here, and all of a sudden, you think that you're the only one alive. Actually, that's all you've ever thought; it's always been about you. You never thought once about us."

"Don't you dare put words in my mouth, you whore. I cared about you guys, but I'm sorry if I care more about my life and my well-being. Jigsaw said that we needed to get out of here to live, and I'm doing just that. I want to win his damn game, and I'm not going to give up until I do."

Rosalie shook her head. "It's always been about winning, hasn't it? You and your damn ego. You two have been best friends for this whole game. You're so vain, and you don't even see it; you don't even see the huge imperfection that you have."

"Have you looked at yourself?" Edward pointed right at Rosalie. "I see a ton of imperfections in you. That's why we were chosen. That's why we all got drugged and put in this damn game. It's because of our imperfections."

"But we are here to fix those imperfections. Jigsaw wants us to value our lives and make good choices. All of this was put on us because of the choices we made. Ultimately, all of this is our fault. But you're so blind. You deserve to die because you obviously do not see that you still need to fix your life. This game is not doing anything for you."

Edward was silent for once. He started pacing back and forth in the little room. Rosalie walked over to the bed, running her hand on it. The fabric was thin and pointless and quite dingy. As she walked up to the head post, she noticed chains with bands hanging from them. She glanced down at her wrists and saw that they were strikingly similar.

Her eyes fluttered down to the bedposts. They too had chains with bands, but they were for someone's ankles. In Rosalie's mind, she slowly came up with a plan. Edward would not longer be the strong one out of the two of them. She was ready to commit mutiny.

Suddenly, the television turned on. Edward and Rosalie instantly averted their gazes to the screen. Jigsaw's puppet appeared on the screen again.

"Rosalie, it is time for you to play a little game." Rosalie's heart sunk to her feet. She gasped for breath as Edward's face turned awestruck. "Please, lay down on the bed. Your game will be quick and painless. You spend most of your time on a bed anyway; this should not be too difficult."

Edward walked over towards Rosalie. She put up her hands defensively. "Get back. I don't trust you. Get away from me."

"Rosalie, you have to get on the bed. Don't worry." Edward looked right in her eyes. "I won't let anything hurt you."

For once in her time with Edward, she actually believed the sincerity in his tone. Slowly, she sat down on the bed and fell backwards. She rested her head gently on the thin pillow, her heart thumping out of her chest. She looked down at her nearly naked body and took in a deep breath.

"Now, Rosalie," the puppet said, "Edward must chain you to the bed. If you do anything to stop this from happening, your arms and legs will be blown off. I really don't think a woman like you would like that very much. Please cooperate."

Rosalie closed her eyes and did not speak. Edward took his shaking hands and, one by one, chained Rosalie to the bed. He made sure that the bands were tight; he did not want to jeopardize his life. When he was done, he took a step back and allowed the puppet to continue talking.

"Now, unfortunately, Rosalie, that is the end of your game. All you must do is lay there and be a good girl." Rosalie popped open her eyes, panicking. "Edward, this begins your game." Edward stared at the screen with his mouth opened.

"Underneath the bed is a box. It is wooden and closed with a latch. Please take that box out and open it." Edward quickly pulled the box out from under the bed. It was light and quickly opened. Edward stared at the contents, his eyes wide.

"In the box, you will see three keys. These keys are the last keys needed to open the door upstairs. When you have finished your game, feel free to run upstairs to your freedom. But in order to complete your game, you will need the gun inside of the box."

Rosalie shook on the bed. "What? What the hell does he need a gun for?"

"The gun has two bullets in its barrel. You already know how to properly use a gun because of your work, but you have been using your gun recently for the wrong purposes. It is your turn to use the gun for the right purpose.

"In Rosalie's profession, she is a mistress at a sex company, giving away free sex and free enjoyment to pleasure-seeking individuals. She breaks up many families and relationships because of what she does. It is time for you to kill the guilty, Edward, instead of killing the innocent. You have two bullets; make them count." The television screen went black.

Rosalie exploded. "What the hell? What does he mean? There is no fucking way that you are going shoot me! Why would he even think that you would consider that? What the fuck?"

Edward stared at the keys in the box in front of him. He picked up the gun and held it with both of his hands. He looked at it, debating his options. Then, his eyes went to Rosalie.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Rosalie watched as Edward walked to the head of the bed.

"I have to shoot you. I have no choice. It's the only way that I can get out of here." Edward sounded defeated.

Rosalie shook on the bed, tugging at her chains. "No way. No way in hell!" She pulled at her wrists. "You are not going to kill me. I didn't do anything wrong. It's my job, Edward!"

"But I have to. Don't you see? I have to get out of here. I don't care if you gave to the poor everyday. I have to kill you to get out of here."

Rosalie shook her head. "No. This is bullshit. It was your game from the beginning. All of this shit was your little test from the beginning. You were making it out of here alive no matter what happened."

Edward looked down at the gun again. He nodded. "I guess so. I was meant to live, and I was meant to kill you."

He held up the gun and pointed it directly at Rosalie. She shook on the bed, screaming out to Edward, trying to change his mind. Edward cocked the gun, getting ready to fire. Rosalie squirmed on the bed even more.

"Dear God! Oh, please! I don't wanna die! I don't deserve this shit! Please save me!" She prayed to the heavens.

Edward shook his head. "It's too late now."

He aimed the gun at Rosalie's chest, specifically at her heart. He pulled the trigger, and a loud crack reverberated off of the walls. Blood started oozing from Rosalie's chest; then, it started flowing out of her body. Rosalie's eyes faltered, and her mouth opened.

"Fuck you. Go to hell." Blood slowly came out of her mouth.

Edward pointed the gun a little higher and fired again. The bullet went straight through her skull. Rosalie's body fell slack on the chains. Blood slowly seeped out of her forehead, one drip at a time. Edward dropped the gun to the floor; it clattered against the hardwood.

Not looking at Rosalie again, Edward walked over to the keys and tore them out of the box. The box fell to the floor as Edward ran out of the room. He put the three keys in his pocket. He glanced briefly at Jasper's body before running up the stairs.

As he ran down the hall, he went past Emmett. He looked at his body and the brains coming out of his head. Edward shook his head at the sight and continued forward. He entered the room where it all began. He refused to glance down at Alice's body. He headed straight for the door with the key holes.

Steadily, he took out one key at a time. He shoved them into the holes and turned. For each one that he put in, he could hear the deadbolt click back into its proper place. When he successfully put all eight keys in the door, it popped open.

Edward breathed a sigh of relief. He gently pulled the door open and stared into its opening. Edward threw his fist into the wall. "Fuck." Before him, there was a long, dimly lit corridor. "It's now or never."

He took a step forward into the new environment. Step by step, he walked down the dirt path. He was on his toes, expecting something to jump out from behind him and kill him. As he kept walking, he did not notice the door to the house close behind him.

All Edward heard was his breathing; it was heavy and staggered. His body was shaking, and his legs felt weak. The corridor seemed to stretch on forever, but for Edward, he knew that he had no other choice than to follow the pathway.

When he saw a wide doorway in front of him, Edward felt relief. He slowly walked into the large room, his eyes searching over everything. He could only see little because of the lighting from the corridor; it was barely shining through the doorway.

The room was plain and bare. The walls were white, and the temperature was extremely cold. Edward looked around the room for a door, but because of the lighting, he could not see one. He stopped in what seemed like the middle of the room and looked to the right and left of him. There were four holes on the right wall, perpendicular to Edward's head.

When the light slowly began to fade from the room, Edward saw the shadow forming on the ground. He spun around and saw a man standing in the doorway of the large room. He had a wicked smile on his face; he fit the description of the Jigsaw Killer perfectly. Edward gasped.

Instantly, Edward felt four rods enter his body: one in his neck, one in his cheek, one at his cheek bone, and one in his temple. Edward's mouth popped open, and he dropped to his knees. With his eyes still open, he fell forward. His blood seeped on the cold, tiled floor.

"Game over." Jigsaw grabbed the door to the room and slid it shut, a sly smile stretched across his face.