A/N: An altered version of a short story that I turned in for my classes. Based off of John's perspective in the movie Saw. It's just in time for Halloween too!

Tormenting the tormentor

There were many types of evil, many types of darkness. He was not a member of that order however. He was not a part of the dark. Though others were want to disagree with that he was just a humble teacher. He was an aged teacher with a hard lesson to teach, but life was hard and not all lessons could be gentle. He hated stupidity, weeded it out wherever he could, or rather his lessons did.

He yawned; decided it was best to not think of such things in this rare hour of rest. He lay upon the softness of the bed, grateful that he could feel the softness, the musky scent of dust and books hung about the room. Again he was grateful; he could smell something, anything but the horrid scent of sterilization and chemicals. He despised chemicals, the smell; it burned at the nose and nibbled at his brain.

He already had one thing nibbling at his brain he hardly needed another. Still now that he'd thought of it he was trapped in chasing the thought down, a victim of his own intelligence and perfectionism. His lips curled in an ironic smile, yet there was nothing funny about the situation.

"I'm sorry… I am really sorry."

"What do you know, how can you even understand much less sympathize." He roared, smashing his fist on the desk and causing the papers and pen on it to hop. "You have your health, you have your family, you'll live to see five years pass, you can't understand!"

"I understand pain, and that's what I'm seeing from you."

"You can't understand the depth of this! Oh I'm sorry you have a disease we can't cure, it'll eat your brains out have a nice life-"Rage choked him, than abandoned him and he sank his head on the cool wood. "There is no treatment."

"No, I'm so-"

"Shut up, just shut up!"

"John, you need to calm down." The doctor, a mouse of a man made insect with his wide glasses stared at him with a strange mix of cool detachment and pity. "You can rage and scream out your fury for this and waste what you have, or you can grasp the rest of you life and live it. It's your choice, walk through the door a dead man or walk through it a live one."

He learned to love those words, he changed them of course, to hide who he was, but they drummed in his head constantly now. He was a dying man seeing a world of dead men. Surrounded by those who had given up on life, a dying man more alive then the healthy, the young, it was an ironic twist of fate. He had learned his lessons, savored the life he had, the small and the large parts of life, of living. The world needed to learn of this. They were drones, machines, hollow twisted entities that lived day to day. No, not lived, they survived in a machine like existence.

Humanity was pathetic, a dead wasted out husk.

So he took the pathetic, the refuse of the world to his breast and nursed them to life. He studied them, analyzed them, and the most wretched of the lot he brought for lessons. They were children, the lost of them, hollow things could not be adult after all, and so to get their attention he would say the words that their juvenile minds could grasp.

"Hello Sandra, let's play a little game…"

He blinked, looked up from the bed and weakly crawled from the soft embrace and to the chair. He sank down into the cheep plastic chair, made him self at home in front of the computer. Cold blue eyes flicked over the computer screen he'd left on. It would never go black that screen, there was no picture upon it, it was a tool and nothing more. Right now, like it always did, it had a number of windows on it showing a multitude of rooms, filled with a number of corpses. Some still breathed, but they were dead inside, he'd not credit them to life until they proved they were worth that life.

"You're a very pretty girl aren't you, that's your role, that's your life, that's all you've ever been. Using your looks you persuade those in power to give you what you like. Men have come to blows over your charms, quite the serpent's tongue behind those pretty teeth you have. You may notice you can't move very well, you're tied down, don't worry; you should be able to rip yourself free. But to do so you'll lose a little blood you see Sandra, what's holding you down might be cloth but what's wrapped around the room is barbed wire. The door out is wide open, just go through the room, weave through the traps, and if you're lucky you might come out with some of that skin still on your body. Tick tock you only have three hours to get out, or I'll lock the door and you can rot in there. Oh yes, you need to see now don't you? Let there be light then."

The dark of the screen disappeared and there was a room a web upon a web of barbed wire stood in front of her. She cried, they always cried at first.

"Let the game begin."