2:12 am

Hunter Hills (Male Student #19) walked along a trail in the bush, with a tomahawk in his right hand and a map in his left. Seconds before she had departed from the council building, his girlfriend Phoebe Corland (Female Student #12), slipped him a note that said, 'B-9'.

Hunter naturally assumed that this meant 'Meet me at B-9', so he had walked directly north of the council building through residential streets, the shopping district, through dense bush that overlooked Orphaned Cove, which was apparently the largest blowhole in the world, as the sign leading its path claimed. At about five to 1, when he got to B-5, he could hear faint gunshots across the inlet from the shopping district. He realized now how dire the situation was. He had to find her quickly. Hunter started to run east along the edge of the sixty metre high cliff.

Do things right - be the best you can be – thoughts of insincere encouragement swirled in his head. They were words of pressure from Hunter's father; the one who originally pushed Hunter to become a football player. Some argued that Hunter was the best player in the school. This year, Hunter only played for SHAC's Saturday rugby league team because his back needed a break from playing really competitive membership club football. Along with Jeff Simpson, Wyatt Barron, Jason Swayze, Zach Enright, Matthew Berwick, Henry St. Claire, Robert Danovaro and many others from Grades 9 and 11, he catapulted his team to the top of the ladder. But, overall his heart wasn't in the game; it was in his girlfriend.

About a year ago, Hunter had watched The Breakfast Club and wondered: could all this obsession towards sports that involved agression make him like the Emilio Estévez character from The Breakfast Club? Hardly, but one aspect of the movie character and Hunter's character that was shared was the fact that they both dated a princess.

But Phoebe Corland wasn't your average princess. She only had the looks of a princess. She was incredibly friendly, not snobby at all. She came from a fairly affluent family who owned large farming property in regional New South Wales. Usually, her parents would've preferred she not date someone who was likely to break his neck doing stupid Jackass-like stunts with his football mates, but they were won over with Hunter's placid, yet charming nature.

Hunter started dating Phoebe a year ago, and during that time, some people said that he became more calm, more 'gooey', and more of a 'I love walks on the beach' kind of person.

This was partially true. Hunter often had violent mood swings before he started dating Phoebe. Rumours had speculated that he was abusing anabolic steroids to further his football career. This turned out to be true when Phoebe found a used needle in Hunter's sports bag. When this happened, Hunter swore off steroids for good. So, over time, they became less frequent. Sooner or later, they stopped altogether, and Hunter became a more kind and caring person.

Jeff Simpson, one of Hunter's best friends, often joked about Hunter's now mellowed attitude, saying "Pheebs, what have you done to him? You've turned him into a pussy!"

Hunter stopped and plucked a bouquet of petunias from the front garden of a large house that was perched right on the cliff. The backyard of it would've been no more than 6 metres long, before you hit the cliff.

Hunter couldn't see the true colours of these in the dark, but he was sure that Phoebe would like them. You're an old-school romantic. He stopped and unzipped his bag. He took out his torch and his map. He seemed to be in B-9, so Phoebe would have to be nearby.

Hunter looked east and squinted. He could (barely) see a dark figure standing about 10 metres away from the edge of the easternmost cliff in Dardanup. He ran about 400 metres, and while he was running, some petals from the flowers of his small bouquet flew off, but they were mostly intact.

The figure was definitely Phoebe. The last 100 metres of his sprint were the fastest yet. He put his tomahawk back in his bag, which felt incredibly light.

Phoebe was a tall, pretty girl. She was very kind, energetic, loud and funny. She'd be loud and she would laugh in almost every class she was in, but, the teachers generally didn't care as she got good grades and she always brought a fun vibe to the classroom.

Hunter couldn't contain himself. He dropped his bag and flung himself at Phoebe, who warmly welcomed his hug. They also kissed, even though it was kind of inappropriate for this situation. The kiss lasted for nine seconds before they stopped and then stared into each other's eyes.

Hunter broke the silence. "Are you all right? Did anything happen to you?"

He held her shoulders and looked sternly into her eyes.

"No, no, I'm fine," Phoebe replied. "What about you?"

"No, I'm good. Oh, it's so good to see you!"

Phoebe shushed him as her eyes darted round the scenery. "There could be someone around!" she sternly whispered.

"Sorry," Hunter replied sheepishly.

Several moments went by.

Hunter broke the silence, "Why did you want to meet here? This… cold cliff." He observed the scenery: lots of scrub, open water, glimmers of light across the harbour, a big drop over the cliffs, several lights racing across the ocean.

Phoebe didn't answer the question.

"Why here? I mean, it's pretty open; anyone could see us."

"I, uh…"

"What? What's wrong?"

Phoebe stayed silent.

"It's okay. I'll protect you. If we're alive at the end, I'll sacrifice myself so you can live."

Phoebe immediately responded, "No. You won't do that."

"Why? I have an axe or something, and I'll only use it when it's absolutely necessary. What have you got for a weapon?" Hunter didn't want to kill, but if the time came, he would have absolutely no qualms about it. He would protect his girl until the end.

"A stun gun."

"That could be useful."

More time passed.

"I can't play this game," Phoebe said. "I don't want to be a part of it."

"But… but, if you don't, you'll die. We'll die!"

Phoebe swallowed. "We'll kill ourselves."

Hunter was dumbfounded. He responded in a deadpan tone, "What..?"

"We'll jump. Here, us, together!"

"B-but you need to live! I can't not let you live! Look, I'll protect you. You'll be fine. If the two of us are left at the end, I'll kill myself so you can survive."

"No, sweetie." "

"I swear I will. Do you really think I'd turn on you at the last minute?"

"It's not that. It's not about that.

"Then what?"

Phoebe bit her lip. "Do you love me?"

Hunter stalled for a second and then said, "Yes, of course. With all my heart."

"I love you too. I couldn't bear to live without you."

Hunter had no idea what to say. He stared into her eyes.

Finally he said, "Me neither. But can we not do it now? Can we like… wai–?"

"You BITCH!"

From the bushes parallel to the talking couple, Jeff Simpson (Male Student #12) leaped. Phoebe and Hunter both turned to face him and they became wide eyed. Even though it was dark and he was 20 feet away, they could easily make out his angry expression.

"WHORE!"

Jeff pulled a large semi-automatic (Jericho 941) from the pocket of his school pants and pointed it at Phoebe, whose entire front body was exposed. He instantly pulled the trigger and a large hole formed just below Phoebe's right breast. Jeff pulled the trigger again and another wound appeared on her abdomen.

Phoebe collapsed to the ground. The gunshots' echoes were still ringing.

Hunter had to think quickly. It was important in a game like football to be able to perceive things, have a quick reaction time and good motor skills. There was a guy with a gun. And he shot my girl! Asshole!

Hunter frantically bent down and rummaged through his bag. He pulled out his tomahawk and dashed over to Jeff.

Jeff couldn't keep his hands still. He couldn't aim straight. He fired twice at Hunter, but both times they missed him. Both shots flew nowhere near Hunter.

Jeff could see Hunter's teeth bearing. They gleamed in the night, and that made them all the more menacing.

Shit! Run!

Jeff turned his back and started to run for his life. But he couldn't get away. Two seconds later, he felt an extremely sharp pain in his leg. He let out a scream and tripped to the ground. With his face planted in the cracked ground, he weakly turned his dirt-covered face to look at what had caused the pain.

Much of the blade of Hunter's tomahawk was lodged in Jeff's right leg, just next to his ass. His eyes were wide open, as if he didn't know what had hit him. Jeff started to whine and whimper, like a dog wanting to come inside on a cold night.

Hunter was panting. He stayed in the same position as he did when he was following through after the throw. It was exhilarating. He realised that Jeff was not dead yet, but that wasn't his current dilemma.

Phoebe. Phoebe!

Hunter ran over to Phoebe. Lots of blood was coming from her wounds that bastard Jeff Simpson had caused. Her heart's still going, that's good, that's good. Phoebe's lovely white blouse was now covered in red.

"Pheebs! Phoebe!" he cried.

She didn't respond. Hunter put two fingers to neck, taking care not to move the collar too much. He didn't know whether it was real or not, but luckily, Phoebe still had a pulse. But she had fainted. Passed out from shock.

In a way, this was good for Phoebe. It meant she did not have to see or hear what Hunter was about to do to Jeff Simpson.

Hunter's list of things to do seemed endless in his mind. Save Phoebe, don't let Jeff escape, torture Jeff, kill Jeff, apply first aid to Phoebe, wait for Phoebe to wake up, decide next move.

Number two, first. Don't let Jeff Simpson escape. I need that try-hard motherfucker alive for now.

Hunter stopped looking at Phoebe's wounds to face Jeff, who was still wailing. He still had the tomahawk stuck in his thigh. Hunter stood up and calmly walked over to Jeff. The word "calm", however, would not apply to Hunter's facial expression. It was an expression that was a cross between blind, psychotic rage and sick, twisted glee. Rage because his girlfriend was shot by a (former) friend; and glee because he was definitely going to enjoy what he was about to do.

Hunter bent down and picked up the handgun that once belonged to Jeff. He continued to walk, his footsteps becoming louder each time.

Jeff stopped looking at the tomahawk in his thigh and glanced up at Hunter slowly approaching. After only one look at his face, all that Jeff felt was fear. Fear and a particular numbness. It might have been the moonlight, but Jeff's fear had turned his face silver.

"No, no!" Jeff screamed as he swatted his hand at the air.

"Oh hell yes!" Hunter bellowed.

Hunter extracted the tomahawk from Jeff's thigh. It hadn't hit an artery, so blood flow was simply that of a deep cut. Jeff gasped.

"What are you doing?" Jeff bawled.

Hunter didn't respond. He just growled. Hunter started to hover the tomahawk of Jeffrey's exposed right ankle. He lifted the tomahawk up into the air. As Jeff watched on, the realisation of Hunter's intentions became clear.

"NO!"

The blade swung down and made contact with the Jeff's ankle. The tomahawk's blade wasn't the sharpest it could possibly be, so it left a half-done job.

Hunter realized this, while Jeff was howling like a wounded wolf. Might as well finish. He brought the tomahawk down in one quick chop. The cut wasn't exactly surgical. The triangular stump that used to be Jeff's ankle was furiously bleeding. He couldn't see amazingly well in the dark. The only light source was the moon above.

This didn't bother Hunter. What would eventually bother him was Jeff's ever present crying.

There, that'll stop him escaping... now to stop him from trying anything else.

Hunter grasped Jeff's wrist and yanked it away from the bleeding stub of Jeff's leg. Hunter placed it on the ground and held his forearm down with his knee. He then grabbed Jeff's other arm, buried under his torso, and clasped Jeff's hands together.

Jeff didn't know what was going on. Is he tying me up?

Instead of binding him like any normal person would, Hunter thought of a way to eliminate the use of his opponents' hands that was quicker than tying them up.

Hunter picked up the handgun that he placed on the ground earlier and unloaded the remainder of the gun's magazine into Jeff's hands. The large bullets essentially demolished Jeff's hands. Many of Jeff's digits had been blown off and crushed.

"AHHHHHHH!" Jeff's bloodcurdling scream must've echoed for at least a fifteen or twenty seconds, and heard at least a kilometer round.

"AH! AH! AH!" he screamed some more, more quietly this time though. His hands (or what was left of them) were shaking violently

After ten seconds of Hunter staring at him curiously, Jeff was able to say something more than just a "no" or a scream.

"Why… fuck… fuck… hands?"

"So you can't pick anything up," Hunter immediately responded.

"With… one… leg? Fucking… psycho…" Jeff panted.

Hunter disregarded Jeff's comments as he ran over to Phoebe. He was doing all this for her. He was sure she would've wanted it to happen. After all, when it came down to it, Jeffrey Simpson was a very arrogant, self-centred person. All he cared about was getting drunk on weekends and trying to pick up girls at parties. He was never very successful, but he liked to boast to his friends that he was.

In complete contrast to what he had just done with Jeff, Hunter tried to help Phoebe. She was still unconscious, but the bleeding had slowed down a lot. It seemed her blouse had acted as a barrier for more blood coming out. Hunter quickly searched through one of the duffel bags that was supplied and found what he was looking for. The first aid kit. I thought they were lying when they said they packed this in.

Hunter was expecting a couple of Band-aids to be in the small first aid pack. But he found a much better assortment of equipment than Band-aids with cartoon pictures of The Wiggles on them. Next to a small bottle of antiseptic cream, Hunter grabbed a roll of bandages. Slowly and carefully, he treated Phoebe's wounds. He undid her blouse (Jeff, you asshole, you better not be looking, or I'll dig your eyes out ) and applied the bandages to both of Phoebe's wounds. He didn't realise, but he was crying. He was crying like a child with a scraped knee.

He couldn't do much else for Phoebe, so he turned his red eyes to the other thing that was sobbing like a child.

Hunter got up and ran over to Jeff, who had gone limp. Jeff just didn't care anymore. He was ready to say anything, because now, he just wanted to die now.

Hunter seized Jeff's shirt collar and dragged him over to the cliff. Jeff's body kicked up dust and uprooted grass as it abandoned any kind of movement whatsoever.

Before he knew it, Jeff's face was once again in the ground. He didn't move it. He didn't want to conform to Hunter's little game. He was angry. He knew he was going to die.

"Look," Hunter commanded. Jeff lay still, frowning at the earth.

Hunter became furious and crushed the back of Jeff's head with the sole of his leather shoe. Jeff groaned at the pain and moved his stump hand to feel the back of his head.

"Look!" Hunter roared as he turned Jeff's body over. He looked at Jeff's bucktoothed grin. Grin at me?

Hunter raised his fist and walloped Jeff's head into the earth. It cracked under the weight of the punch. Hunter then got on his knees and punched Jeff's face several times in a stabbing motion. On the fifth punch, Hunter and Jeff heard a loud crack. Jeff's now-broken nose and mouth were surging with blood. He had lost three teeth (including the two buckteeth that made him look like a stereotypical Chinaman) and his right cheekbone. Despite the pain, Jeff still smiled smugly as Hunter gave him a look that would even frighten people like Henry St. Claire.

"How much blood do you have in you?" Hunter asked sarcastically.

Hunter gripped Jeff's short, spiked-up hair and twisted it so he faced the peaceful-looking Phoebe, who was completely unaware of the violence that was going on right next to her.

"Why?" Hunter interrogated.

"Oh, she's dead," was all Jeff said.

"Why?" Hunter repeated.

"Why what?" Jeff brashly replied.

Hunter slammed Jeff's temple into the ground.

"WHY?" he slammed Jeff's head into the ground again. And with each syllable, he would do it again. "WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY?"

"She was a bitch!" Jeffrey finally spat. "Fuck, I don't know how you managed to tap that, she'd be so critical of how you do it."

Hunter laughed. He had no clue how Jeff could be so rude at a time like this.

"Do you have a death wish?" he chuckled.

"Fuck you," Jeff responded. "Fuck you, and fuck your girlfriend. I know I still would. Yeah."

Hunter's face turned red.

"Yeah, you wouldn't have done it, you're too scared," Jeff continued callously. "I reckon you couldn't because your balls are too small from injecting all that steroid shit up your ass. You probably don't even like chicks, you'd prefer to have Ben stick his dick up your ass, you faggot. Or Kineally."

Hunter raised his brow and chuckled derisively at that name. Mitchell Kineally. He had left SHAC not too long ago due to subtle, but harsh bullying by members of the rugby league team. He was always suspected of harbouring a crush on Hunter, which he always denied. However, it was certainly very obvious that Mitchell had a childlike obsession with Hunter, trying to copy his movements and the things he said. Hunter always brushed Mitchell off, regarding him as someone who'll get over his boy-crush.

"I'm sure Kineally would've loved it if you dumped that stuck-up bitch and took him on a picnic instead. You should've left Phoebe to me, I'd still fuck her, here and now, with you watching me–"

Hunter instantly picked Jeff up off the ground. He was actually trying to touch Phoebe. How fucking dare he!

Hunter's former rugby team-mate was now being dangled over the edge of the cliff, with him by the neck. Jeff's metallic collar felt cold on Hunter's fingers.

"Do it faggot," Jeff rasped through Hunter's tight one-handed grip. "Do it. You got no balls. No balls!"

Phoebe's eyes started to flutter open. She had no idea of how much time had passed, or what was going on. She saw her bloody blouse open, dried blood around white strips of bandages, something tan and bloodied in the distance on the ground, and her current boyfriend drop one of their best friends over the cliff of sector B-9. She could Jeff's final hair-raising scream as he fell at least forty metres to be impaled on a spire protruding from the ice-cold water.

Phoebe pieced the facts together. She was shot, bandaged, and knocked out. Her boyfriend killed Jeff as he laughed at him. Phoebe deduced that her boyfriend was innocent. That didn't stop her becoming a little scared of him, because after all, he just committed murder.

Hunter turned to see Phoebe's deep hazel eyes wide open.

"Phoebe! Are you okay? How are you feeling?"

In his mind, Hunter was wondering whether she saw anything that happened with him and Jeff. What would she think if she saw him chopping his foot off with a rusty tomahawk and practically annihilating his hands with a near-full magazine?

"Jeff..." Phoebe uttered.

For now, Phoebe didn't care that her boyfriend was a murderer. She was just happy to be with him.

"You don't need to worry about that. Can you stand?"

"I don't know," she softly replied.

"Come on. Let's do it. Lets jump. Jeff won't have taken your life then."

Hunter bent down and picked Phoebe up. She was so light.

"Here, you'll be fine."

Hunter walked over to the edge of the cliff and looked down. It was dark, but he could make out a dark sea and brown jagged rocks. He looked at Phoebe. He slowly put her down and stood her up. He was supporting her so her knees wouldn't buckle.

"Are you okay?" Hunter asked.

Frailly, Phoebe confirmed with a nod.

"Are you ready?"

Again, she replied yes.

Hunter looked to his right to where he dropped Jeff's body. He had no regrets.

"We'll do it on three. One… two…"

Hunter paused and quietly said, "Three."

Hunter closed his eyes and leaped forward. He was still supporting Phoebe, who made some effort to move off the cliff as well.

Hunter was content. He was about to die with his love, his girlfriend, Phoebe. Hunter was dancing in the air, while Phoebe was relatively still. They were both dropping to the bottom of the cliff into the black Tasman Sea.

Hunter felt strangely calm. Phoebe however, didn't. That's because about halfway down the drop, her heart stopped. Technically, her death was caused by Jeff Simpson, who had once asked her out, and was so crushed when she rejected him. They still remained good friends, and would always sit next to each other in Maths, along with people like Wyatt Barron and Georgia Rapley. They had fun in Maths, joking with the teacher, making each other laugh and playfully teasing each other. Jeff once said when Phoebe dropped her calculator, "Hey Miss, Pheebs dropped her brain!" and the whole class laughed while Phoebe hit Jeff on the shoulder.

Hunter and Phoebe didn't know it, but the real reason Jeff attacked them was the fact that Phoebe slipped a note to Hunter, and not Jeff. Jeff didn't think that his two great friends wanted to be with each other; together, alone. He was angry because he was going to be left alone.

Hunter and Phoebe hit the ocean below with a loud splash.

KILLED

Boy #12 – Simpson, Jeff

Girl #12 – Corland, Pheobe

Boy #18 – Hills, Hunter

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