A sudden knocking on the door startled him from his thoughts.

"Come in!"

Bischoff was surprised when not one, not two, but five wrestlers entered his office - Chris Jericho, the Hardys, Christian and Trish.  They were all dressed in their street clothes, which he found odd considering they were all scheduled for matches that evening.

"What's this all about?" the GM asked as he stood up.

The members of the group looked at one another, and finally, the petite blonde diva stepped forward to be their spokesperson.

Clearing her throat, Trish spoke.  "Mr. Bischoff, we have to leave immediately...We-"

"What?!" Bischoff shouted, a rage boiling up inside of him for the third time that night.  "You all have matches tonight!"

"I don't," the blonde said calmly.

"Oh, yes you do, my dear!  I was going to give you the news a little later, but you're taking over Lita's position as challenger for the Women's title!"

"I can't do that, Mr. Bischoff..."

"So, you five think you can all just waltz on out of here whenever you feel like it...and why?"

Jeff took a step forward and spoke up.  "Our friend is in the hospital, and we have to go visit her..."

"Oh, this is all about Amy Dumas, is it?  Well, you cannot visit her tonight - we have a show to put on, people!"

Jericho stepped up to the desk, an angry expression dominating his features.  "Look, Uncle Eric...we don't give a damn about the show right now.  Some things are more important than the show.  We're going to see our friend, and that's all there is to it!"

Bischoff glared at the man, not missing his mention of the nickname he'd been known by back in WCW.  By now, his ears were burning with the anger he felt toward these five individuals.

"Who do you all think you are?  I am running this show, and you work for me!  And I expect-"

Jericho reached out across the desk and grabbed the General Manager by his shirt collar.

"Sorry to break it to you, you motherfucker - but contrary to what you believe, you are not the center of the universe.  Now, we're leaving...and if you don't like it, Uncle Eric, you can just kiss my ass!"  He let the man go, giving him an extra shove for good measure.

The GM glared at them in disbelief, his eyes wide.  It was the second time in less than an hour that a wrestler had manhandled him, and by the look on her face, the little blonde diva appeared angry enough to attack him next.  Straightening up his collar, he stared sternly at each of them in turn.  "Fine - go..."

Trish Stratus was the first to turn around and head for the door, Jeff Hardy right at her heels.  Bischoff couldn't believe what was happening, and he was furious.

"If you all leave tonight before you've appeared on the show, you can forget about coming back!"

Chris Jericho, the last of the five to leave the room, turned back to glare at him.  "You really don't get it, do you, Uncle Eric?"  He shook his head, a disgusted sneer on his face as he regarded the other man.  "What a pity..."  He turned away and exited the room, slamming the door as he went.

*

The young woman instantly jerked her head up as she heard the footsteps coming down the wooden steps to the basement.  She wished she had some kind of weapon with which to defend herself in case the asshole tried to violate her again.

"Angelica..."  His voice was soft and lilting, and that terrified her far worse than if it had been harsh and booming.  He was so unpredictable, and she never knew what he was going to do next - when he was going to suddenly snap and strike out in violence.

"...sweet Angelica..." John said in an almost singsong tone of voice.  "Did you sleep well last night?  Hmm?"  He came to a stop directly in front of her, and she shivered, only parly from the cold as she stared up at him with hatred in her eyes.  She wouldn't even blink if he dropped dead right in front of her.

The man suddenly knelt down in front of her, and she instinctively turned her head away in a refusal to look at him any longer.

"Now, now...be a good girl."

Her eyes shut tightly as she suddenly felt one of his filthy hands on her chin.  He turned her face toward him, ordering her in a gentle voice to open her eyes.  When she didn't obey, he yelled.

The woman reluctantly snapped her eyes open, letting them glaze over as they went unfocused.  He smiled, nodded and said, "Very good..."

She tried desperately not to shed the tears she suddenly felt wellling up in her eyes.  After he had raped her, she'd refused to allow him to see her cry again.  It seemed that her tears only excited him even more.

The madman suddenly moved his face close to hers, and her eyes suddenly focused, widening as he got nearer still.  She felt she would be sick if this asshole tried to kiss her!  She wanted in the worst possible way to turn her head, claw at his eyes - whatever - but she was terrified of what he might do.  Instead, she closed her eyes again, keeping her lips tightly shut.  She had to bite her tongue to keep from whimpering as she felt the man's slimy lips on her - but, amazingly, he didn't kiss her on the lips, opting for her cheek instead.

She was shaking when he suddenly let her go.  Refusing to open her eyes, she heard him walking around, then detected the sound of some objects being laid on the floor - her breakfast.  She could smell eggs and bacon.

And then, she heard the distinct sound of his footsteps trodding up the wooden stairs, and the basement door being closed and locked.  Only then did she dare to open her eyes again.

*

Amy's eyes snapped open as the remnants of the strange dream wore off.  She shuddered as she thought about that poor young woman.  Who was she?  How long had she been trapped in that hellhole by that psychopath John?  She shivered as she recalled the man's name.  Such a common, harmless name... Yet so terrifying.

She gazed around at her surroundings, initially disoriented, running her right hand gently over her face.  And then she remembered - she was in the hospital... The baby...

For a moment, she wondered where Adam was, not comprehending why the tall blond was nowhere around.  And then she remembered that he had gone to Indianapolis, where she should have been for RAW that evening.  He had said he had to speak to Eric Bischoff - face-to-face.

She pulled the white blanket up to her chin, a strong feeling of loneliness and a weaker one of fear coming over her.  The dreams she'd been having lately had some sort of ominous meaning - she knew this.

Closing her eyes against the harsh white light of the hospital room, Amy prayed that Adam would return to her very soon...