vinga had won. that’s what people said when they had survived a trap that was set up by jigsaw, right? she didn’t know, her mind wasn’t working entirely right at the moment, but it wasn’t really her fault. although it probably was really, she was placed in a saw trap because she hadn’t lived her life properly. her twin brother’s ghost constantly lived over her and it had never gone away. she let him dictate how she would do things even without him being there. she had to prove to jigsaw that she could get out from the shadow of her dead twin and make her own choices. she had to react on her instincts and learn that life wasn’t slow paced and she wasn’t a victim, she was the god damned hero of her story and that vaughn dying was just one part of her life, not something that would define her. she was sat in a darkened room her cut up jeans, exposing her thigh where she had a tattoo, marking the date and time that vaughn died, just above was a fresh wound. she had to destroy the tattoo to get the key out. if she didn’t, the piece around her neck would tighten until it stopped her from breathing. she laid on the floor, her leg bleeding, her shaking hand still holding onto the scalpel, and the device that was once around her neck was beside her, still constricting. she was weeping quietly as she laid on that cold, hard concrete floor, trying to figure out what she would do next and how she would get out of here. she heard footsteps. “w-who’s there?” she mumbled out, holding her free hand to her thigh to stem the bleeding.