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Trish tried to remain as quiet as possible as she made her way back to her own hotel room. She'd left shortly after Adam's return and declaration. She only hoped Amy would finally get some peace tonight.

The nagging sensation had not left her. Somehow, when Adam had told them that someone was playing games and that the creep who'd kidnapped and raped Amy was dead, something had really bothered her. It was somewhere back in the recesses of her mind, but the little blonde felt as though she should *remember* something.

But *what*?

She thought of Jeff. Maybe the rainbow-haired man could help her. She thought it strangely ironic - Amy had been having horrid nightmares, ones she'd repressed. And meanwhile, *she* was now having difficulty trying to recall something she knew was vitally important in all of this.

She stopped in her tracks, thinking furiously. Jeff... She had to get to him. He would have answers - and he would comfort her as well. A surge of warmth spread through her body as she thought about it, about the younger Hardy Boy.

The little blonde began to resume her steps, making her way toward the stairwell. Jeff's hotel room was two flights up.

Trish began the small journey, her mind not at all focused on the fact that, at this ungodly hour of the night, not a soul was around and she was alone here.

She had just made it to the next flight when a presence suddenly startled her. She let out a small gasp, then relaxed but grew angry as she realized who it was.

"Hello there, Trish..."

The little blonde scowled. The portly man was so close to her in the meager confines of the stairwell that she could smell *and* feel his reeking breath.

"What the hell do you want, Paul?" she hissed. She couldn't help but wonder what in the world Paul Heyman would be doing up now, much less right here, just where *she* happened to be. It was somewhat unnerving. It seemed almost as though the man had *planned* this, timed it perfectly.

Heyman laughed, the sound thoroughly grating on Trish's nerves. The sound of it echoed hollowly throughout the area, sending a chill up the diva's spine.

Paul reached out, bracing one hand against the wall, nearly pinning Trish against it. He felt a charge at the power he felt over making the young woman squirm. She backed even more against the wall, seemingly wanting it to open up and swallow her. She was scared of him... It made him feel good when, up until fairly recently, the bitch had all but pretty much laughed at him, mocked him.

"Get away from me!"

"No," Heyman said, shaking his head. He offered her a crooked smile. "You answer me something..." Before Trish could recoil anymore, he reached out and grasped her chin - hard. The blonde struggled against his touch, a soft mewling sound escaping her.

"Your bitch friend Amy... Has she gone completely bonkers yet?"

The fear-filled chocolate-brown eyes widened at his words.

Oh, yes... He was enjoying this power he held over the woman. Interesting reaction to his question.

"Because," he continued, "she *is* going to pay for all the hell she's caused."

"Wh-what?" Trish squirmed some more, both her hands coming up to claw at his hand that was still gripping her chin. She didn't want to get away just *yet* - not until he revealed more.

"The bitch is gonna pay for what she did to him," Paul snarled, not at all caring about Trish's long nails raking at the flesh of his hand.

"*Who*?" she asked in a frantic voice. She knew he meant that John character, but who the hell had the man been to Paul Heyman? What possible relationship could there have been between them?

Paul moved his face close to Trish's again, his beady eyes wide.

"Johnny..." the man spat. "... Johnny Heyman."

The little blonde blinked, confusion overtaking her. She winced, as his hold on her chin was beginning to hurt. Who the hell *was* this Johnny Heyman, anyway?

Trish finally was free as, a moment later, Paul finally released her. In a haste, she scurried away, her chin aching as she let out a yelp and hurried up the staircase. She nearly tripped as she heard Heyman's maniacal laughter trailing up to her ears - but she managed to keep her footing and raced the rest of the way to her destination.

"Jeff... Jeff!" Trish nearly collapsed against the young man when he opened the door.

"Trish... What's wrong, baby?" the Hardy asked with a frown. Clearly, something was *very* wrong. "Get in here," he said softly. Gently, he ushered her inside, shutting and locking the door behind her.