Over the Edge Chapter 1: Over the Edge, a hannah montana fanfic

Sudden inspiration is more powerful than any vitalizing medicine, and after watching "You Gotta Not Fight for your Right to Party" I had a little 'sugar' rush. What if that cliff indeed was 200 feet high? How might things have turned out? Add a little imagination, a pinch of drama, and BAM! You get a good story!

Here I go! The alternate ending of Hannah Montana episode "You Gotta Not Fight For Your Right To Party"!

I feel so uncertain at the moment, however. I don't know which perspective is better for me; the first person view (using the word "I"), or third-person view (telling the story as the narrator). I'm trying to tell the story through Miley's eyes but it's not working very well in third-person view, so I changed it into a series of first-person view passages. How well did that go?

Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana.

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"Jackson, you're a genius, and my hero!" I squealed with delight while powdering my face with make-up.

I was exhilarated beyond words. Getting Lilly and Oliver to pose as Jackson and I was a stroke of brilliance! One that probably won't come back to Jackson for another ten years. By hiring Lilly and Oliver to pose as our 'decoys', we were able to sneak out of the house, Dad totally oblivious to the plan. Jackson borrowed his friend Thor's truck so that he may take Sierra Grace (some hot date of his) to 'Panic! At the Disco', taking me dressed as Hannah to Beyonce's party along the way.

Feeling what I said just now was a little out-of-character and awkward, I added, remembering the fact that we had been feuding over practically everything for quite a while,

"...until we get back home, and I will hate you again."

"Right back at yah." Jackson replied calmly. "Now, careful with the make-up; I promised Thor I wouldn't mess up his truck." he added as an afterthought.

With sarcasm, I quipped back, "Oh yeah. I need to get blush on his half-eaten hoakie!" I held in my hand a half-eaten taco. (A/N: No I didn't hear this part very clearly nor did I understand her. I'm just trying to mimic the script best I can.)

Jackson gave me an incredulous smile and said, "Just stop complaining. You know we couldn't have taken my car out without tipping of Dad." Glancing the taco, he snatched it and added, "And I'd call dips!" before sinking his teeth into it.

With just as much sarcasm as just now, I remarked bitingly, "Oh yeah. That Sierra Grace is one lucky girl!" Boys! Eating is all that matters to them! They eat anything half-edible, don't they?

Shifting my gaze out of the window, I immediately began to worry about the thick fog that permeated the air. How do we get anywhere with all this fog around us?

Feeling a slight shill of ominousness, I stuttered, "Jackson, are you sure...we're on the right way? I-I-I think we missed our turn." I began craning my neck, looking around through the windows for a road sign or a turn with no avail.

Unfortunately, Jackson was overly self-confident. With half-laughter in his voice, he said, "There's no turn! I would have seen the turn!"

But I knew better. We've been driving in this labyrinth for nearly twenty minutes. With panic in my voice, I exclaimed despairingly, "How can you see anything with this fog? Face it, we're lost!"

Jackson felt the remark as an attack to his pride. He quickly rebutted me, "We're not lost! We just..." But even he himself was not sure regarding their whereabouts. Panic encroached upon his heart too as he tried to shut his sister up to prevent losing his own head as well, "...not there yet! Stop nagging me, woman!"

"I'm not nagging you! Deer!"

Jackson thought I said "dear". He replied in kind, with sarcasm.

"Whatever you say. Honey."

Frantically, I yelled, "No! DEER!"

Jackson looked harder through the windshield, and swerved violently to the left, narrowly avoiding a collision with a deer.

"WHOA!"

The truck tyres screeched with ear-splitting violence as the truck swung left and right, Jackson all the while trying to stabilise us and keep this truck from tipping over. Man, he ain't that good a driver now, is he? No wonder he never keeps his girlfriends!

We were thrown violently around along with the truck's crazed charge. Well, at least he missed the deer.

Then the truck lunged downwards, threatening to tip over. It stopped suddenly, as if stuck on something. It took me a few seconds to register the fact that we were completely motionless.

Breathless with fear, I berated him with bated breath.

"Nice going, Ricky Bobby! You could've driven us a cliff!"

Jackson, trying to redeem himself in both our eyes, remarked half-happily, "But I didn't! Because I have lightning-fast reflexes, and I cool with the..."

"AAAAHHH!"

The truck tipped steeply forwards like a roller coaster beginning to fly down a 90 degrees slope. An intense sensation quite like the one I felt while aboard a plane encountering merciless air turbulence pressed my chest and guts like a thousand ton weight. I screamed in terror, gripping the sides of my seat so tightly my fingernails might have dug into the seat cover. I began to sweat nervously, my heart started thumping wildly, and I felt an odd sensation grip her lungs tight, forcing air out of her chest. That feeling was remarkably similar to the ominous nervousness people felt when sitting in a roller coaster or any related rides, waiting for their doom.

"WHOA! Whoa!"

Beside me, Jackson also felt that same unpleasant swooping sensation as the truck tipped forward dangerously. He clutched the steering wheel very tightly, threatening to rip it off the controls, and gasped loudly in surprise more than fear.

Strapped tightly in my seat, I could have sworn I was never as terrified as I was then in my entire life. What's happening? Am I to die in fear, helplessly trapped in the truck, awaiting my doom?

Jackson mirrored my thoughts. In utmost terror, both of us quietly screamed the name of the person whom we had earlier tried to avoid but now needed more than we've ever dreamed of.

"DADDY!"

My voice was unnaturally high. Jackson's voice sounded constricted as if his heart leapt up into his throat. Somewhere down my throat, my heart was pumping feverishly as well.

The truck tipped forward again, balanced on a stray thin tree branch. I was, by now, so scared I could hardly choke a scream. The unpleasant swooping sensation blew away all the air from my lungs and pushed my stomach into the back of my body. I gripped the seat with one hand harder than before and struggled in wild fear, pressing myself back into the seat as much as possible. Meanwhile, my other hand trying to find Jackson's as if he could provide me some comfort.

Jackson gave out a strangled cry, that intense feeling augmenting the fear in both our beating hearts.

"AAH! Aah!

I never regretted lying to Daddy more than then.

Robbie Ray's POV:

Something didn't feel right. I swear I heard a call for help. It sounded a whole lot like Miley and Jackson. Did it come from the room...?

"Hey Jackson! Jackson!"

No response. This was most disturbing. I never suspected anything horrible to have befallen him; he's grounded and chained to this house! Yet I can't get rid of that ominous feeling in my gut...

"Hey Miley! Miley!"

The strangled voice of Miley's came from the door to her room, still peppered with that strange faked-sounding Tennessee accent.

"Yeah Dad?"

At least I know where she is. Slight relief dawned upon me.

"Where's Jackson?"

"He's asleep like a bear snoozing down winter! Y'all!"

Bear snoozing down winter. Yeah, I remembered teaching her that expression when she asked me the best way to describe Jackson in his 'deep sleep' mode.

But why am I feeling this unrest? Is it an upset stomach? Is someone in mortal danger? Or is it just about those hot ee-doggies gone bad?

Then I heard it again. A distant cry, that was. It almost sounded desperate; like it was crying and struggling, clinging on for dear life.

"...daddy!..."

Jackson's POV:

Miley was clinging onto the edges of her seat as if her life depended on it. To be honest, our lives were depended only on the strength of that thin branch holding us up. If it snapped, we would all die. That thought alone made me sweat cold as well.

The entire view of the situation now slowly bounced around in the box of my mind. My eyes were dimming with fear, my hands were clammy and cold (still holding on to the steering wheel, hoping that would keep us up), and an odd ringing resounded in my ears.

Surprisingly, I heard Miley's desperate voice.

"Call for help! CALL FOR HELP!"

In the tense situation, she shocked me back to my senses.

"Yeah yeah yeah, I know. I-I-I would have thought of that!"

I rammed my palm into the button on the steering wheel. A pathetic moo of a cow was heard from the horn.

Evidently disappointed, Miley viciously remarked with sarcasm, "Great. Looks like the only help we'll be getting is from a lonely bull!"

I mentally cursed Thor for installing such an impractical and stupid horn.

Shaking in both body and voice, Miley asked the question we both knew not the answer.

"How far down is it?"

Angrily, impatiently perhaps, I rebutted, "How should I know?"

"Well look out the window!"

Okay that sounded alright. I moved to stick my neck out of the window to survey the surroundings.

But as I was doing it, the gingerly balanced truck lunged forward once more, causing both of us to snap back into our seats, my hands threatening to crush the steering wheel under my hands, and Miley paling with terror.

"Not like that!"

Even in a life-and-death situation, Miley still had the nerve to criticize me. Sarcastically and impatiently, I yelled at her, "Well I'm sorry I didn't bring my extendo-neck!"

I tried my best to remain calm, as did Miley, who was taking deep but quick breaths to reassure herself. She knew as well as I did that we should not make any unnecessary movement, lest the tree branch snap and we tumble to our deaths. I quickly thought up a plan to get us both out of this fix. As I unstrapped myself with shaking hands from the driver's seat, I began to formulate a plan to keep us both alive.

"Okay. Okay, look. Th-th-th-th-this is all about weight distribution. I-I-If we crawl down to the back then the truck can't tip."

Breathlessly, Miley offered to go first, undoing her seat belt at the same time.

I wanted to guarantee my survival, not hers', didn't I? I wasn't going to let up this chance.

"Whoa whoa whoa! I-I-I-I should go first because I'm heavier."

But Miley wasn't going to put her life on the line for me either. Frankly, I did have a point just now.

"Yeah, but I'm faster, which means I can get to my party quicker." She made to climb up after adding as an afterthought, "And then, you know, come back and look out for you."

And with that, she began to climb over the front seats. I was stung by her cynical behavior. Angrily, I yelled, "Whoa! I, I, I can't believe how SELFISH you're being!"

She rebutted with equal ferocity, "I'm not being selfish! I'm thinking about my millions of fans! They'll be crushed if I die."

"But...people will miss me too!"

Miley was merciless and harsh with her comebacks. Hardly surprising, judging by the way we've been feuding all this time.

"Oh please! Your teachers will go and party! Thor will be too upset about his truck, and...trust me, I'll get Daddy through it."

Miley evidently never gave a hoot about my life. Not willing to sacrifice my life for her, we both tried to get through to the back seats at the same time, and ended up jousting for it. The ominous tipping of the truck shocked us back to our seats, though.

"AAAHH!"

"Aargh!"

Okay, enough nonsensical fighting. Time to get serious, unless we not valued our lives.

"Flip a coin?"

Miley agreed. "Good idea."

She called heads. The coin landed a tails. Oh well, she got to go first.

"Two out of three?" I inquired hopefully.

"Sure, why not? Oh, that's right. Couldn't be stupid!"

Well, we got to working. I whispered a little prayer to the Lord, begging for help and forgiveness.

Lilly's POV:

I swear it! I heard someone calling for help! It didn't come from the neighbors. Definitely not; I could feel it in my bones. But where did it come from? Where the hell is Oliver?

"OLIVER! OLIVER!"

"What?"

Oliver was practically shrinking with hunger. In this state, a boy can hardly think of much other than food.

"I heard a voice! It's calling for help!"

Oliver gave a weird look from his position of lying on his back on the floor of Miley's room, trying to lessen the hunger with gravity.

"Are you sure YOU'RE not going mad with starvation, too?"

"NO! I'm serious! It sounded like..." I focused all my attention to my ears, but somehow that voice spoke directly into my brain.

"It sounded like...it sounded like Miley! And Jackson!"

A light bulb flashed in my head. Yes, it definitely sounded like them! What is going on? Why are they calling for help? Oliver might have heard the S.O.S distress call too.

"Yeah, it does sound like Miley and Jackson."

I focused my energy and directed them into my head. This time I heard the voice clearer, and more distinct. Apparently, both Miley and Jackson were yelling at the same time...

"Help! Daddy! Help! Somebody! Anybody!"

"Daddy! Rescue us! Where are you?"

"Lilly? Oliver?"

"Here! I'm here!" I tried to talk to the voices, but they were deaf, only able to deliver ambiguous messages, unable to carry replies.

Oliver made to stand up.

"Shouldn't we be doing something?"

"Like what? Call Miley's phone?" I yelled, pointing to the cellphone which Miley had forgotten to take along with her.

"Jackson's?"

I didn't know Jackson's number. That left us with virtually no ways to reassure ourselves . All we could do was sit in the room and wait for this sudden weird premonition to pass. And besides, I was sure Miley and Jackson weren't in trouble, so it seemed pointless that we got ourselves in trouble as well by bumping into Mr. Stewart downstairs.

And yet, this ominousness never faded...

Jackson's POV:

Miley was fairly small; she could have made it through the hole at the back of the passenger's cabin in the truck if it wasn't for her stupid belt that got her stuck halfway through. Sweet niblets!

I popped half my body out of the window to watch her.

"...Uh oh..."

"What?"

"My belt's caught!"

"Well then, you just try to grab on to something and pull yourself through!"

"I can't! There's nothing here but this rubber fish!" She held in her hand a once-live catch; apparently it was a real fish.

"Oh no, it's not rubber." She hurled the fish behind her; the fish landed on the front of the truck.

I decided to help. "Okay. I'm just gonna come out and pull you out."

Afraid we might lose our delicate balance, Miley exclaimed, "What!? No!"

Jarringly, I chided her with every intent to insult, "Don't worry, the weight of your BIG HEAD will keep us balanced!"

Gingerly, I made my way to the back of the truck by climbing over the roof. Lord deliver us!

Lilly's POV:

That voice calling me was really creeping me out. Oliver didn't hear much, since about three-quarters of his brain was filled with the need for food. Nevertheless, he was disturbed about these voices.

"Shouldn't we tell someone?"

"They'll think we're mad! And besides, we'll get in trouble with Mr. Stewart if we just run up to him like SNAP and blow our cover!"

"We can't just sit here; we gotta help!"

"Help what? Help where? Help how? Help who?" These questions haunted me.

"I can only make a guess about the fourth question."

Jackson's POV:

I clambered my way to freedom. YES! YES YES! Now to make a break for it! You have no idea how it feels like to have escaped the jaws of death so closely.

"Jackson!"

My joy was short-lived when Miley brought me back to my senses. Grudgingly, I turned back and tried to tug her out of there by pulling both her arms.

Then, to my horror, the balance on the truck shifted. A bird had landed on the truck, and is investigating the fish.

"Uh oh..."

"What's wrong?"

I dismissed it as just a bird. But then a flock of them landed on the front. Sweet niblets! This can't be happening!

My hands were clammy and cold, but not nearly as cold as Miley's. Her hands were frozen, not taking the surroundings into consideration as the temperature around us could have been only 10 degrees. Her hands were starting to shake as I tugged at her for a minute without avail. Clearly she was stuck halfway through the hole, with neither going back in nor struggling out being her escape route.

The truck slid a metre down the slope. The birds all took flight in fright, and we screamed, thinking the branch snapped. Turns out that the hind wheels were still on the ground, though they were sliding off the slope.

Miley's next words struck my heart like a bell being hit by a hammer.

"Jackson, leave me."

I stared in shock at my sister, whom all this time had been competing against me for survival.

"Miles?"

Her grey eyes peered right into mine, and every word was heavy. But she meant ever word.

"Just leave me, Jackson. It's over. I can't get out. But you can. Go before it's too late."

"No! I am not leaving without you!"

The truck slid further down, but Miley hardly screamed.

"Go! At least one of us will make it through this! If you stay here, we'll both die!"

"I AM NEVER LEAVING MY LITTLE SISTER BEHIND TO DIE!"

All my love for Miley burst through, and for the first time I truly appreciated her generosity. Sincerely, I asked her, "What prompted such an act of generosity?"

Miley lowered her gaze slowly and spoke with earnest, "You've been trying to help me all this time, and...all this time I've been trying to get out without sparing a thought for you..."

Nonsense! I refused to believe it. Not now!

"And, now, you risk your life for mine. I can't repay that debt enough. I am not worthy. You should just go."

I knelt there, rooted to the spot, staring at my sister. The first tears formed around the corners of my eyes.

Miley also began to cry as she launched into a confession.

"Jackson, I'm so sorry for being such a horrible sister, and I'm sorry for all the horrible things I said about you just now. You are just as important a person as I am, and I had no right to judge you just by the way you live your life."

The truck was a foot away from tumbling into the dark abyss below.

"I'm sorry about fighting with you all this time...I'm sorry for being such a horrible sister...I'm sorry for all those shenanigans I pulled on you..."

I had to cling on to Miley no matter what the price, even if it was my life.

"NO! You shouldn't take all the blame! I'm supposed to be sorry for starting the fights in the first place!" My tears flowed freely down my cheeks like rivers. Miley released her grip on my arms. I only held on tighter.

"I love you, Jackson. I'm sorry for being horrible as a sister, and I never knew I'd say it like that. You're the best brother ever born into the world. I love you." Miley began weeping as she slowly let go of her life. I could feel her shaking uncontrollably under my arms.

It was time for me to say it now. It was now or never.

"I love you too Miley. Forgive me for being such a bad brother at times. Forgive me for fighting with you. You are the sister everyone dreams about. I love you."

Miley smiled weakly in between her tears. The truck gave a fatal tip, and with all her strength, she shoved me off the truck. I landed on the ground, hard.

"GO!"

"MILEY, NO!"

I couldn't get there in time. The truck was inches from falling off. Miley gave me one last word.

"Tell Dad I love them too. Tell Lilly and Oliver I love them. Tell them I'm sorry for what evil I might have caused them in the past."

"DON'T GO! MILEY!"

"I'll watch y'all from Heaven with Mom..."

The branch snapped at last. The truck made a final dive into the rocks below. With a terrified scream, Miley went down with the machine. I ran over to the edge of the cliff in time to watch the truck disappear. The truck's final journey marked my sister's last breaths, and when an almighty crash from the rocks below was heard, I knew the final journey was over. Miley had met her demise, and was now making her way to heaven.

"Miley..."

Lilly's POV:

A sudden pain in the gut bowled me over.

"Are you sure you're not hungry?" Oliver asked from the floor, half-conscious.

"No! Something happened..."

What was that all about? A wild panic seized control of me even though I could not sense what it was. It sounded like...dying breaths...last pleas...final cry of terror...

I snatched the doorknob and flew down the stairs...

Robbie Ray's POV:

Sweet niblets! What is happening to me? I keep getting a feeling that someone is trying to contact me! It sounds an awful like Miley, too. What are those? Hallucinations?

"I love you Daddy. Remember that..."

But that unsettling feeling in my stomach...what the heck is going on?

I'll tell you what's going on tomorrow, Robbie. After a hard six hours, I could finally use a rest. Expect a second chapter to come your way definitely before two days are up. In the meantime, could someone please tell me what do they think of this chapter? Did it suck? Was it too short? Please kindly report any errors I made as well so that I may correct them.

I hope everyone enjoys this first chapter! Please tell me which is your favourite part if you please, and even if you don't review, thanks for reading anyway! I am really hyped about this!

I particularly liked the ending part. IMO it was very touching, even for the writer.

I did try to use third-person view to write this chapter, but somehow third-person view could not bring out the insights and inner feelings of the said character as well as first-person view.

Terrorking Tragedian