Puzzle: Jigsaw's Daughter

.:14:.

  My head was pounding, as if I was hit with a hammer. Stress and pressure always did that to me. I would collapse, become disorientated and eventually black out. This hadn't happened in a long time, so I faced it in extreme panic. When I woke up, I was uncomfortably placed in a chair. Handcuffs were tying my wrists together, making it difficult to move them. The room, where I was placed, was very dull. Plain grey walls, a simple dark floor and a boring wooden table with two chairs either side of it (one of which was occupied by me). However, only one thing stood out. A mirror. It was huge, covering up an entire wall. I didn't dare look into it, knowing that I would see someone I am very ashamed of. Someone who got them self into major trouble. I knew what this meant. Questioning. I had seen this too many times in films. A police officer would come in and do anything to get information out of the suspect, not caring about their feelings or opinion.

As if on cue, the large door, which was situated in one corner, burst open. A buff-looking man, in formal clothing, entered by himself. His hazel eyes burned into me with the speed of a bullet. Without a moment of hesitation, he went into explaining the situation.
"When I tell you to you will have to say your name, age and occupation. We need this for a voice recording." The man took a seat and soft buzzing came from an earpiece, which we wore. He nodded as I sign for me to start and I obeyed, not wanting to worsen anything.
"Samara Kramer, 16, student," I said flatly, sitting up in my chair and arching my back to make it hurt less. Hearing a few bones in my spine click, I tensed up further.
"Are you related to John Kramer, in any way?"
"Yes, h-he's my dad..." I trailed off, mentally cursing myself for stuttering. I was petrified by the thought that I could - no, would - go to jail. Or worse.

"We know that you were part of Mr Kramer's team, helping with making traps and other things. Is this true?"
"No," I lied, my voice stronger than before. Thinking it through, I decided that if was not going to be truthful I would have to play this off better. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I just came home from school and there was so many people outside of my house. I was so scared. I don't know why I'm here, I didn't do anything," my voice cried desperately, breaking throughout the sentences. Going to the extent, I swallowed my pride and shed a few lonely tears. Why was I not an actress, again?
"Miss Kramer, we have very strong evidence that you indeed were helping."
"Who did you get that information from? Jason, that crack addict who would even lie to his own mother? Or was it Jill, who obviously just wants revenge for her unsuccessful marriage?" I spat trying my hardest not to back down from my shyness, which was long forgotten. My sinful lips made up stories as I went. "Don't you understand that I have no idea what you're talking about? I don't even get time to watch a movie, talk about making traps for some killer! I'm just trying to get through school with good grades, so I can graduate and get a job. I don't want to be a murderer!"

The police officer seemed to be thinking about my answer and took many thoughtful glances at the large mirror. Then it hit me. It was a one-way mirror and we were being observed all this time. Honestly it was not surprising at all, but still made me feel uneasy. Having someone watch your every move can be very unsettling. Especially if you are being questioned by the police.
"I know you're lying." The officer glared at me and I returned his hateful stare.
"I'm not," I argued through gritted teeth.
"Did anyone else work with John?" The man ignored my words, which was making me slightly annoyed. "We know about a woman called Amanda Young, but was there anyone else?"
"I don't know." Actually, I did know. John had introduced me to Sam, who supplied his materials. After all, who could have bought all of the metals? I also knew about someone named May, but I never got the chance to meet her. In addition Jack, a man who worked for the police, was on our side. He was surely very helpful, as he gave John the information he needed. I was sure that there were more people, who I did not know about and might not even meet. This world was filled with so many secrets. And I was not going to be the one to reveal them.
"Yes you do," the irritating man urged.
"How many times do I have to say this," I breathed in exasperation, "I have nothing to do with any of this! I didn't know that John was Jigsaw or that Amanda was helping him. They seemed normal to me and I don't believe a word of what you are saying." If looks could kill, that man's face would have been jammed in a blender by no other than me. "Amanda and John cared for me. And do you seriously think that after loosing my mother to drugs, I would take the path of crime as well?"