[Amanda is on her bed, seated, as usual. This time, she's wearing a coat, and there's a backpack next to her on the mattress. It looks stuffed pretty full, and it is--clothing, toiletries, and a few personal trinkets. There's an expression on her face that is hard to describe; an approximation might be serenity, but it's not nearly that peaceful. She'll probably never feel a peace that complete for the rest of her life. 
Rehabilitation, no matter how effective, can't heal every scar. She still has demons to live with, and she speaks slowly and carefully.]
My name is Amanda Young, and until today, I was an inmate. For a short time, back in my world, I served as apprentice and successor to a serial killer. The police, the FBI, the press and the other citizens knew him as Jigsaw. I knew him as John Kramer, savior and surrogate father, and I loved him. There's nothing I wouldn't have done for him; I wanted to be exactly what he wanted me to be. Nothing but his love mattered to me, not even the lives of other people, even when my conscience was screaming--and yes, I had one, even when I worked with him. I've rebuilt it over the past couple of years, and it's not perfect--there are still gaps--but even in the cases where I can't bring myself to feel remorse for the victims, I feel remorse over what happened to the innocents around them.
[She takes a breath and holds it for a moment before releasing it, slowly.]I don't regret the pain I caused Eric Matthews, the man who sent me to prison with false charges and planted evidence, but I regret the pain it caused his son. That's one thing I never really considered, while I was busy torturing and killing people I thought deserved it--that what I did hurt more than just the test subjects. They left behind families and friends who hadn't done anything, who had to mourn and grieve the way I've mourned John and Jill here. I didn't equate my suffering with the suffering of the people my victims left behind. How the fuck could I, when I viewed everyone as subhuman and disposable when compared to the two of them?
That changed when I spoke to Daniel Matthews again. I saw the aftermath of what I'd done to someone I cared about, right up close, and I couldn't lie to myself anymore. Our suffering, our grief, was the same. All the families of all the victims...I caused the same pain for them that made me beg to die with John and Jill, and I wish to fuckin' god I could take it back.
[She shakes her head.]The instincts I had burned into me--to hurt and kill--they won't just go away completely. I'm...better, now, a lot better, but there may be a time in the future when I want to do something sadistic. I may live with that impulse until the day I die. That doesn't mean I need to give in to that desire. It doesn't mean I can't do good. I can be caring and nurturing, and I can love; some of you have even seen it. I'm not a monster unless I allow myself to be one, and people resist their basest impulses every day, right?
I still name John as my father, and Jill, my mother. I probably always will. I've accepted that they're not infallible, that John committed and Jill perpetuated atrocities, that the two of them fucked with my head and hurt me, but I forgive them for
everything they did to me, and I'll always love them. I know that in their own, fucked-up way, they loved me too, and that's why I need to do this.
I'm going home. I don't know how long it will take in this place's screwy sense of time, but after a couple weeks in my world, I'll return a warden. I've got a deal to make, one that will fix everything, but first I need to pay their resting place a visit and see what we left behind.
I am...truly sorry for the pain I've caused any of you while I was desperately trying to maintain my ignorance. I wish the people I tested could hear me say it. And to all the friends I've made, all the people who believed in me, whether they're still here to hear this or not...
[She gives a tiny shrug, and yes, there are the beginnings of tears in her eyes.]Thank you.
[Private to Simone]I avoided letting you see my face or know my name until now. I knew you would've remembered me from the media coverage.
I want you to know that I was never involved with your trap. It wasn't even designed until after my death.
[Private to Hoffman]If you want to talk, let's talk.
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