I was fifteen when the bomb went off in my school. My name is Jax Kidman, I'm team Rainbow's newest recruit, I am an Australian and this is my story.

It was a day like any other day, was in history classes. I was talking to my mate, William. We were just talking, completely ignoring our boring teacher and then... The screams came.

They started resonating through the school halls. Confused, I looked over to my teacher to see that they were just as lost as me. Panic slowly started rising in the class, my teacher was desperately trying to keep everyone calm and failing miserably. Girls in the back started screaming as they heard The Man, slamming on the door. The obstacle blocking him from use held about 5 seconds before HE burst in.

The madman, the murderer, the bloody idiot.

A terrorist...

He had a bomb strapped to his chest so that we could clearly see it, he held up a six shot revolver in one hand and the detonation button in the other. He was shouting at us to get on our knees, everyone complied easily. I could hear people crying and begging him not to shoot.

I was terrified, an opinion almost everyone was. Almost everyone. One guy tried to help. One guy tried to make a difference. One guy had guts.

That guy...

was William.

He tried to tackle the terrorist so that everyone could escape. He tried, he really did. He was shot dead the moment he stood up and started sprinting. Something changed in me at that moment I saw his cold, dead, body hit the ground. All the terror that had pinned me down was eaten away by the anger that followed his death.

My history teacher had a bunch of relics in the room, one of those items was a rusty, old machete. Still sharp and within arm's reach. Time slowed down, I didn't think, I only acted on instinct and on the adrenaline running through my veins. I grabbed the blade and rushed him. If he hadn't still been shocked for killing Will. I don't know if I would have made it.

That and my legs. My legs ran faster than they ever ran, faster than I should have been able to run.

He fired and cut the side of my cheek, didn't stop me though. I kept running until was close enough to swing. I put all my strength into my arm and went for the head.

I cracked right through his skull. He died on the spot, blade still in his head. His Body dropped dead at my feet, blood pouring abundantly from his head forming a pool of gore around me.

I dropped to my knees as I started realizing what I had just done.

I had killed someone.

Brutally and violently killed someone.

I was just starting to realize everything that had just happen: the death of my friend, my murder.

And all I could do about it was scream of grief and anger,

with blood on my hands and tears in my eyes...