I slowly opened my eyes, but still all I saw was darkness. I blinked to make sure they really were open, but still couldn’t see much. I tried to sit up but a wave of nausea stopped me and I slumped back to the floor. I let out a groan as I forced myself into a sitting position, ignoring everything I had learnt at uni about dealing with concussion patients.

"Sam?" Paul’s voice came out of the darkness. I felt a movement next to me. "Thank God you’re okay."

"I don’t know that I’d say I was okay," I muttered trying hard to fight the feeling of wanting to throw up, "but I will be." I tried looking around again, letting my eyes adjust to the dark. "How long was I unconscious?"

"I don’t know" he replied. "A few hours at least."

"Where are we?"

"In one of the unused dressing rooms. One of the guys put me in here soon after he took you out. Then they just threw you in here. Are you okay?" he asked.

"I’m getting there. I’ll have one hell of a headache for a while." I was almost scared to ask this next question. "What about the others?"

I could just make out the features on Paul’s face as he looked at the floor and answered. "I don’t know. I haven’t seen anyone since I was left in here. But ..." he paused, reluctant to continue.

"But what?" I asked, my voice shaking.

"I heard a couple of shots fired not long ago. I just wish I knew what was going on." In the dark I felt Paul’s hand touch mine, then take hold of it. We sat there in the dark holding hands in silence. I was trembling, both with fright and as a result of the blow to the head. Paul moved and turned to face me.

"Sam .. before you were about to tell us about this guy. Who is he?"

I knew that I owed it to him to tell him the truth, yet I was still hesitant. I was scared that if I told him, then he would, like I already did, see this as being my fault and turn away from me.

Paul squeezed my hand. "Sam?" I realised that I couldn’t not tell him, regardless of the consequences.

"He’s my ex-boyfriend." I began to tell him the whole story. How we met at a friends party and started going out, very happy for around eight months. I told him how one of Steve’s friends tried to hit on me then told Steve that I seduced him and slept with him. I told him about Steve’s pay back for this, hitting me with his car and wrecking my knee, all because of a lie. I explained about the letters, very close to tears. The I told him about Kelly’s phone call yesterday and Steve following me here. Finally I told him about Steve’s offer of a deal, but left out specific details.

"Paul, I’m so sorry. All of this ... people are dead and it’s all because of me." I burst into tears, crying uncontrollably. Paul let go of my hand and put his arm around my shoulders. He put his other arm around me, holding me tight. I put my head on his shoulder and cried, unable to stop.

Paul stroked my hair, just letting me cry. "Sam," he said hoarsely, "please, don’t do this to yourself. It’s not your fault." He kept holding me as we sat in the dark, my sobs the only sound breaking the silence.

I groggily opened my eyes, hoping that it had all been a dream. But I knew it wasn’t. I was still sitting on the floor in a dark, locked room, my head pounding and my knee throbbing. I was leaning against Paul, his arms were still around me. I think he was asleep, so I tried to move as carefully as possible so as not to wake him. But as I lifted my head off his shoulder I felt him stir.

"Sorry," I said, "I didn’t want to wake you.

"That’s okay" he said, rubbing his eyes with one hand while the other stayed around my shoulder. "I wasn’t really sleeping, just dozing on and off. You were having some pretty nasty dreams weren’t you?"

"Huh?"

"You were whimpering and crying in your sleep. What were you dreaming?"

"I don’t remember" I answered honestly. I wasn’t aware that I had even been dreaming, I must have been pretty soundly asleep ... the results of the concussion.

"Do you have any idea how long we’ve been here?" I asked, resting my aching head back on his shoulder.

"No" Paul answered. "I’ve been trying to look at my watch, but its just too dark to make it out. All I know is that this all started at ten to nine and it feels like we’ve been in here for ages."

"Yeah, I know. Has there been any more noise from out there?" I looked at Paul.

"No" he looked back at me. "I wonder what’s going on."

"At least there haven’t been any more shots fired. I suppose that’s something." But was it really? When I first came to, Paul said he had heard shots. We couldn’t be sure of what happened. For all we knew Scott, Tim or Mikey, our friends, could be dead. Try as I might, I couldn’t block this thought out.

"What are you thinking about?" Paul’s voice startled me and I jumped.

"Those shots you said you heard. I just wish we knew ..."

"I know. I’m afraid to think of what it was. I mean ... I don’t know. Its just that Mikey ... he’s one of my best mates ..." Paul was on the verge of tears. "I need to know what’s going on."

I felt a drop on my cheek. I lifted my head and looked at Paul. His head was lowered as if he were staring at the floor. Through the dark I could just make out the tears falling from his eyes. Unsure of what to do, I reached for his hand and held on to it tight.

I don’t know how much later it was, but I was still holding Paul’s hand when the door was suddenly thrown open. Paul and I both blinked, the light seemed very bright. Dave and Mark came in and ordered us up. Mark must have thought I moved too slowly because he delivered a kick to my already injured knee. I screamed in pain and fell back to the floor. Paul rushed to help me up and took most of my weight as I leaned on him.

We were led back to the green room and forced inside. Paul was on my left, supporting me as I couldn’t put my weight on my leg. As the door was shut he took me to a chair and helped me sit. Then we looked at the other two in the room. Scott came to sit with me, Tim was standing in a corner. Paul sank on to the couch, his head in his hands. I asked what I’m sure he was too scared to.

"Where’s Mikey?"

"They took him out about an hour ago. We haven’t seen him since. Are you okay?" Scott touched my cheek, which was swollen and bruised where Steve had hit me.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Only an hour ago, are you sure? What time is it anyway?"

"It’s almost noon. They took Mikey at ten past eleven. Why? What’s wrong? Where have you been?" Tim asked as he joined Paul on the couch.

Paul told them about being locked in the dressing room and how I was thrown in with him. I told them about Steve and how he hit me, knocking me out. Then Paul explained about the shots he heard and why we were worried about Mikey. Scott laughed when he heard this.

"Oh, I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just funny because we heard the shots too and thought that you two were ... well lets just say that we were worried too. I thought I’d never see you again." Scott put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed before letting go. "I didn’t mean to laugh, I’m just so relieved that you’re okay."

"Yeah, me too" I said. I looked at Paul, who looked a bit happier than a few minutes ago. His eyes were red, probably a combination of lack of sleep and crying, but he did manage to smile at me.

There was a noise in the corridor and we all turned to look at the door. It opened and Mikey stepped into the room, escorted by Steve and rolling a television set. Mikey pushed the TV over to the wall and plugged it into a power point. Then he sat in an empty chair. Steve turned on the TV, found what he was looking for and came and sat on the arm of my chair.

"I thought you might like to see this. You’re famous," he looked at Paul and Mikey, "more than before" he added. The whole time he was tapping his gun on my shoulder.

On the television the news was showing, a ‘Special Report’ logo flashing across the bottom of the screen. The image on the screen was a shot of the outside of the studios, showing police surrounding the building. then it flashed back to the reported in the studio, the headline ‘Global Siege’ in the background.

"To repeat this distressing news, five armed gunmen have taken hostages inside the main building at Global Studios, holding them since approximately nine pm last night. At this point we are unclear on the number of hostages, we do know that there are at least five, including well-known personalities Paul McDermott, Mikey Robins and Tim Ferguson. The other known hostages are Scott Glover and his cousin Samantha Brodie, who is believed to be an ex-girlfriend of one of the gunmen." Our pictures were shown on the screen.

"It has also been reported there have been shots fired, but we are unable to confirm the condition of those inside. At this stage there are two confirmed deaths, a security guard and a hostage who was shot as they were being released. Their identity has not yet been revealed, but they were believed to have been a guest on the show Good News Week, which was being filmed at the time." Steve stood up and switched off the TV. He looked around at us, his gaze stopping when it reached me.

"So there you go," he said. "Now everyone across the country knows we’re here. They probably also know that you’re the one I’m doing this for, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure that out." He turned and opened the door. "If only you had answered my letters, none of this would have been necessary." He left, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Damn it, will you stop saying that!" Scott said.

"Why?" I asked. "It’s true. You heard what he said."

"He’s crazy Sam," Tim added. "It sounds like he’s trying to make you feel guilty, but you’re not. Don’t listen to him."

"How can I help it?" I stood up painfully and, leaning on the walking stick, hobbled across the room. "We all know he’s right."

"No, he’s not." Mikey said. "No one here believes it. Tim’s right, he’s just saying it to upset you. Don’t let him."

I turned away from them all and looked at the wall, tears running down my cheeks. I stayed there, my back to the room, slumped on the floor.

I don’t know how much longer it was, but a noise right behind me caused me to turn around. Paul was standing behind me. As I turned back to face the wall he put his hand on my shoulder.

"Sam, turn around" he asked. I didn’t move. "Samantha ... please?" I slowly turned around to face him, looking around for the others. They all seemed to be asleep. I looked back at Paul, but didn’t say anything.

"I didn’t want to bring this up in front of the others so I waited until they were asleep," he began. "Why don’t you listen when we say you’re not to blame for this?"

"I listen, I just don’t believe it. You can’t tell me that this would have happened if you I hadn’t been here."

"No, but that’s not the point. Steve’s the one with the gun, he’s the one in control, he’s the one to blame here."

"But ..."

"No! Don’t say but! You told me what he said to you before he hit you. He’d say anything to weaken you so you give in." He glanced at the others, still asleep. "You didn’t tell them about the deal he offered, did you?" I shook my head. "I thought not, that’s why I waited till now to bring it up. Please don’t let him get his way, you’ve already been hurt too much. Don’t listen to him." Paul was pleading with me.

"I can’t not listen to him, because I know it’s the truth. I remember exactly what his letters said. His exact words. ‘I’m sorry and I miss you. Please call me.’ If I had called him then I could have prevented all of this."

"Yeah, and opened yourself up to being abused by that guy. Sam, this is someone who hit you with his car because he thought you did something that you didn’t even do. He hit you just now, and knocked you out. Those aren’t the actions of a man who loves you."

"Paul you don’t understand. I don’t even know if I can explain it. I hate Steve for everything he’s done, but I can’t help but consider going back to him. Even before all this happened I was considering it. Maybe it would be worth putting up with him just to stop him begging, to stop the letters ... to stop this." I looked at the floor, Paul put his hand on mine.

"Don’t you dare. Look, Sam, I don’t know if this is true or not, I don’t know you all that well, but you seem like such a strong person. You’ve stood up to this guy to try and stop him hurting both yourself and others, people you don’t even know. Please ... please don’t let him get to you. Don’t let him hurt you any more."

"Why? Why do you care so much?"

Paul was taken aback by this question. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Like you said, you don’t even know me. We met three days ago. What difference does it make to you if I’ve been hurt? Why do you care?"

"I don’t know. Maybe because I felt some sort of connection with you when we first met. Maybe its because I don’t think anyone should have to go through what that guy’s done to you," he paused and looked at me. "Or maybe its because I see in front of me an intelligent, easy to talk to, attractive young lady, and I want the chance to get to know her better. If you let this guy get to you I may not get that chance. Believe me, please. Stop thinking that you’re to blame here!"

Paul’s words brought tears to my eyes, he was almost begging. I couldn’t not listen to him. "I’ll try" I said. "It’s just so difficult." I started to cry again, hating myself for being so weak, wishing I could be strong like Paul said. Once again Paul was left to comfort me, holding me in his arms, telling me that it would all work out in the end. I just wish that I could believe him.

PART TWENTY.

"Well, if he does get shot then they will have to stop making the show. He can’t exactly be replaced, it wouldn’t be the same" Tim said.

"But I don’t see why they wouldn’t go on making it without him, changing it around a bit. And why do you want the show canned anyway? I thought you liked it." Scott joined in. Mikey just watched it, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Yeah, I do. But you have to admit it has been lacking something a bit lately. It isn’t anywhere near as good as it used to be." Tim answered.

"Maybe, but isn’t this a bit desperate?" I asked.

"What the hell is wrong with all of you?" Mikey blurted out. "I can’t believe that you’re saying this. You’re making it sound like you think Paul being killed would be a good thing!"

"Uh ... Mikey?" I tried to interrupt him.

"What?!" He glared at me.

"We weren’t talking about Paul. God, do you really think we’d be that awful? I’d be absolutely devastated if anything were to happen to him, I’m too scared to think about what they’re doing to him at the moment."

"Then what the hell are you talking about?" Mikey really was confused.

"Blue Heelers. We reckon they should kill off Tom" Tim grinned. "I have it all figured out, maybe I should send in a script ..." Tim’s words were cut off as the door opened and Paul staggered in. He got half way across the floor and collapsed.

"Shit!" Mikey exclaimed as we all went to Paul. "What the hell did they do?"

"It’s okay" Paul muttered, "I’m just a bit winded." He sat up carefully. "That guy could’ve had one hell of a career as a boxer." Tim helped Paul stand and get to a chair.

"What happened?" he asked.

Paul looked at me and shook his head. "Nothing."

"Bullshit!" Scott said. "Tell us."

Again, Paul looked at me. "He told me that you were to take this as a warning. But really, it’s not that bad."

"Don’t lie." I said. "You could hardly breathe when you came in. A warning about what?"

"That you should do what he said or he’ll ... well I think you get what I mean." Paul looked at the floor.

"What does that mean?" Scott asked. "Sam, do you know what he’s talking about?"

I nodded and slowly told them about what Steve had said to me, how he said he wouldn’t kill them if I went back to him, slept with him. I looked at Paul. He was trying to hide it, but I could see the pain he was in.

"Maybe I should just do as he wants. He might let you all go." I said.

"No!" said Scott as he grabbed my hand. "Don’t, you can’t." He held my hand in both of his. "Sam, I’ve known you my whole life, it’s not like you to give in."

His whole life, my whole life. It was a long time, although right now I felt so young, like a teenager rather than someone in their late twenties. Ever since this whole thing began I have felt so immature and helpless. It was hard for me to be the person Scott was talking about, though I wished with all my heart that I could be.

"Scott’s right" Tim said. "It’s not worth it."

"I agree" Paul added. "You can’t trust this guy at all. He’s proven that."

"But look at what he did to you" I said, watching Paul. "He’ll keep hurting you until I give in."

Paul reached out and took my other hand. "Sam, like I said before, you can’t trust him. He’d do or say anything to get you to give in. Don’t do it ... we all need to stick together here."

He was right, we did. We all needed each other or else we’d never make it through this. I had to make a decision, be firm and convince myself that I was doing the right thing.

"Okay," I said. "I’ll fight it, I won’t give in".