Curiosity killed the cat

Janie Johns had always been far to nosy for her own good. When told not to do something, she always did the opposite, like the time Mickey Grayling in Year 1 told her about Mr Vincent's back garden cemetary-or what he believed was a cemetary. Janie just couldn't help herself. She had to take a look. She had to be the one to prove the rumours. True, or false, the outcome didn't matter.
That time she got away with it, but her luck was about to run out.
It had been a while since she visited her Great Aunt Violet. Janie didn't do relations, but as she was on her death bed Janie's mother dragged Janie along for her last visit.
While she was there she overheard her Great Aunt talking to her mother.
"There's something I need you to do, Flora," croaked Aunt Violet. "There's something in the attic I need you to get. I need you to destroy it. It's important."
Janie could tell Aunt Violet was anxious. Her desperate, spluttered speech, her deeply wrinkled frown. Whatever was up there Janie wanted to see it before her mother did.
She listened closer.
"Of course, Violet, anything," replied her mother.
"Jig Saw," were the last words Aunt Violet uttered before her last gasp of breath.
Janie ran upstairs, choosing to find what she shouldn't rather than console her whimpering mother.
She crept up the wooden ladder and flipped over the attic hatch.
There lying on the floor of the empty attic, bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun, streaming in through the window, was a flat box. Janie brushed the dust from the cover.
'Jig Saw', were the words fainted scribed on the box.
"Why was she so worked up about this?" Janie crowed as she prised off the lid. "It's just a box, full of bits of jigsaw."
Janie tipped them up onto the dusty attic floor, but as she tried to sort them out, flipping each one over to its picture side, she noticed that all the pieces were blank.
"That's weird," she said and tried to clip two together.
As the pieces interlocked part of a picture formed on the surface of both of them.
"Wow," Janie gasped. "It must be magic."
Eagerly, Janie put the pieces together, matching the shapes as best she could. As she did the picture took shape in front of her eyes.
She couldn't tell what it was a first as the colours were too muted-soft browns, tans, creams and oranges, blending in with each other. But working her way from the edge of the jigsaw inwards she noticed the picture forming was of an empty room. The lower half of a person was next to form-a person crouched with their back towards her. Above the person was a shiny object, curved and sharp, glinting in the sunlight.
As Janie's mother called to her from below Janie shakily placed the last two pieces of the jigsaw and realised to her horror, it was a picture of her in the attic.