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Connie
The events of the past years echoed through her mind. She felt her blood course through her veins as she remembered Kieran, who had threatened her with a needle filled with HIV-infected blood. She remembered Bill, who had attacked her out of nowhere and left her suffering from PTSD, unable to sleep at night, and addicted to diazepam. Now she could add being held hostage in Jac's office too.
The man held his gun to Connie's head and gestured to Jac to come over to them both. At his instruction, she went through both their pockets and took out Jac's cracked phone, their pagers, and Connie's own phone. He saw the picture of Jac and Emma and made note of it while Jac put the items into the pockets of the man's black coat.
'You're going to go out and help her now,' he said to Connie with his gun pointed at Jac, who stood back by Kian's desk with the small knife held in her shaking hand, 'or she's going to find out what happens when you don't do as I tell you.' Connie nodded weakly as he threw her out of the door. She felt it slam shut behind her as she blinked in the bright light.
Supported by the cream wall was a woman. Her face was pale and clammy and her side was a mess of blood that had soaked through her shirt.
'All right, can you hear me? Miss? Can you hear me?' Connie cupped the woman's face in her hands and gently shook her. 'No, she's unresponsive,' she told herself. Trying to block out the muffled screams and thuds from the office behind her, she focussed on treating the patient so she could get to Jac.
'What's going on?' the man's voice shouted through the closed door, 'if she dies, this one doesn't make it.'
Connie's hands shook as she peeled away the soaking fabric from the woman's left side. She inhaled sharply as she took in the open wound, pulsating as blood flowed from an artery. She needed swabs and antibiotics, strong ones, and she was going to need surgery.
'I need supplies,' she called.
'Well go then you idiot,' the man replied, 'but if anyone comes back with you the-'
'Yeah yeah, I get it.' Connie ran towards the cupboard.
'Swabs...amoxicillin...amoxicillin…Where the hell is it?!' She scanned the shelves in search of the antibiotic. Cursing as she knocked bottles and packets of drugs onto the floor, she eventually found a syringe and filled it with amoxicillin. Connie raced back and injected the drug into the patient's left arm. She also gave her 5mg of morphine and breathed a sigh of relief as the woman began to open her eyes.
Jac
Connie left and Jac was suddenly aware of the severity of the situation. She faced the man holding her hostage as he turned the lights on. She gasped in horror as she saw his face for the first time. He had his father's eyes, cold and empty. She remembered those eyes from her years in the care home, the way they bore into her, and all the other young girls he abused. She tried to back away from him, but she fell onto Madani's desk. Cursing him silently, she steadied herself and pointed the knife in his direction.
'You know who I am, Jac. I'm his son. He wouldn't touch you, but I'm not afraid of Jac Naylor. Are you afraid of me?' He laughed sadistically at the mix of fear and disgust on her face.
'I know what you are,' she corrected, 'and no, I'm not afraid of you.'
'Well, you should be.' And he grabbed the arm which she held her knife with, twisting it at an impossible angle until she was left with no choice but to let go. It clattered to the floor and terror filled Jac. Cold words and threats weren't going to get her out of this mess. She wished Connie would just run and find help. She knew the Yates family: he probably wouldn't let Connie run and tell the tale if she managed to save the patient. Jac wasn't sure what condition she was in, but it must have been bad for Connie to sound so desperate.
'You think you're so invincible, but I knew where you were Jac. If your friend can find my father, I can find her. And once I found her, I found you. So, when tonight is all over, if you survive, you can thank her for it.' He picked the knife up and dropped the gun in its place.
Jac felt him pull her closer and she fought against him, but her muscles were shaking from fear and she felt herself stumble over to the sofa in his grasp. Knife in his left hand, she felt the other on the back of her head and in her hair. He stroked her face softly and she bit at his hand.
'I was right, you are a feisty one.' And he hit her across the face and threw her in a heap on the floor. As she began to ebb in and out of consciousness, she felt each kick landed on her stomach; the air forced out of her with each one.
'You can't escape me, Jac. I found you now and I'll come back. I'll keep coming back until you regret what you did to my father.'
'He died…he wouldn't have made it...anyway. It wasn't...my..' she gasped.
'Wasn't your what? Not your fault? He died from complications IN SURGERY. And I believe it was you in theatre with him, operating on him. Yes?' She nodded and he slashed the knife across Jac's thigh, exposed through the ripped fabric of her navy trousers and she cried out in pain. 'My father DIED and it was YOUR FAULT, Jac. YOUR FAULT. This is on you- all of it.'
