The Secret Livestream

Vivienne just smirked at Nathaniel's aggressive isolation tactics. She hoisted her heavy backpack higher onto her shoulders, her grip tightening on her walking stick. Without another glance at the group of pampered actors, she turned her back on them and strode confidently into the darkening forest.

The tree canopy above blocked out the fading sunlight, casting long, menacing shadows across the damp earth. As Vivienne trekked deeper, her boots crushing dry leaves, she noticed the underbrush grew thinner. The weeds here bore fresh cut marks. The production team had cleared a rudimentary path. They showed a sliver of mercy, setting up a somewhat manageable terrain for the survival rookies.

Vivienne ignored the easy path. Her keen eyes scanned the dense thickets, searching for movement. Her senses heightened, tuning out the distant chatter of the ocean. A rustle in the ferns caught her attention. Less than twenty yards away, a wild rabbit darted from beneath a rotted log, its gray coat blending into the twilight.

Without breaking stride, Vivienne dropped her walking stick. She bent down, her fingers closing around a heavy, jagged stone embedded in the dirt. The rabbit paused, its ears twitching, preparing to bolt. It was a creature built for speed, designed to vanish at the first sign of danger.

Vivienne did not give it the chance. With lethal precision, she pulled her arm back and flicked her wrist. The heavy stone cut through the humid air. A sharp, sickening crack echoed through the trees as the rock connected dead center with the rabbit’s skull. The animal’s legs kicked out once, snapping twigs, before it dropped dead instantly into the dirt.

A few yards behind her, the designated cameraman gasped, nearly dropping his rig. "Wow! Amazing!" he whispered, his eyes wide in genuine shock.

Vivienne raised an eyebrow, dusting the dirt from her palms. "How lucky," she muttered dryly.

One rabbit provided more than enough sustenance for the night. Vivienne walked over to the carcass, picked it up by its hind legs, and retraced her steps toward the sound of rushing water.

She found a secluded riverbank downstream from the main drop-off point. Dropping her backpack onto a flat rock, she retrieved a sharp, tactical folding knife from her survival gear. She knelt by the running water and laid the rabbit on a flat slab of stone. With practiced, mechanical efficiency, she drove the blade into the rabbit's belly, slicing a straight line up to its sternum. Warm blood pooled over her fingers, dripping onto the river rocks. She pried the ribcage apart, exposing the steaming, dark red organs within.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind her. Camilla, having wandered away from Nathaniel to find a spot free of mud, stumbled through the tree line. She froze. Her eyes locked onto the bloody, visceral scene. The metallic scent of blood hit her nose, and her pristine image shattered under sheer panic.

"Ah!" Camilla screamed, her voice piercing the quiet woods. She pointed a trembling finger at Vivienne. "Vivienne, you are so ruthless! You look so comfortable doing that. Do you kill animals frequently? Are you some kind of psychopath?"

Vivienne did not flinch. She did not bother wiping the blood from her hands. Instead, she reached into the rabbit’s open cavity, her fingers wrapping around a warm, heavy cluster of slippery intestines. With a swift, fluid motion, Vivienne scooped up a handful of the bloody guts and hurled them directly at Camilla.

The wet mass slapped against Camilla’s designer hiking jacket, leaving a thick smear of dark crimson blood before dropping with a wet thud onto her expensive boots.

"Piss off," Vivienne snapped, her gaze cold and dead.

"Ahhh!" Camilla shrieked in genuine horror, staring at the gore staining her clothes. Her knees buckled, her face draining of color. "You psycho! You are disgusting!" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she spun around, stumbling over the gravel, and fled back into the woods, sobbing uncontrollably.

The live broadcast chat erupted. Millions of viewers watched the raw, unfiltered display, and the screen flooded with text.

[Holy crap! Vivienne is vicious! She actually threw bloody guts at Camilla. That is nasty!]

[Camilla has such a good temper. If someone tossed intestines on me, I would break their jaw!]

[Am I the only one who thinks Camilla brought this on herself? Vivienne has been trying to stay away, but Camilla keeps poking the bear. She asked for it.]

[Camilla played a stupid game and won a stupid prize. She tried to frame Vivienne as an animal abuser on live TV. She deserved those guts.]

[I support Camilla. Vivienne killed that rabbit without blinking. She is a monster!]

[Vivienne is unhinged and dangerous. She probably tortures pets for fun.]

[Get this malicious woman out of the entertainment industry now!]

Unfazed by the digital uproar or Camilla’s dramatic exit, Vivienne turned back to her prey. She expertly peeled the skin from the muscle, working the pelt free in one clean piece. She rinsed the meat in the cold river water, washing away the excess blood.

Next, she gathered dry branches, snapping them over her knee to build a structured pyramid. Using a magnesium fire starter, she struck a spark, nursing the dry moss into a crackling blaze. She waited patiently for the flames to die down into glowing, white-hot charcoal. Roasting the meat directly over an open flame would scorch the outside and leave it tasting of acrid smoke. Coals provided an even, steady heat. She skewered the rabbit on a sturdy, green branch and set it over the embers.

Within minutes, fat dripped from the carcass, hitting the hot coals and sizzling loudly. A mouthwatering, rich aroma drifted through the canopy, cutting through the damp scent of the forest.

Back near the main drop-off zone, the designated food-gathering team—Bianca, Gavin, and Donovan—stumbled out of the brush. They looked disheveled. Scratches covered their arms, mud stained their knees, and sweat plastered their hair to their foreheads. They returned entirely empty-handed, save for a few pathetic, wilted wild vegetables Bianca clutched in her fist.

The production crew had purposely released hobbled chickens into the area, breaking one of their legs to give the pampered actors an easy win. Even with the handicap, the trio’s severe lack of outdoor skills left them tripping over roots and grasping at thin air. They chased the injured birds for an hour, failing to catch a single one.

Bianca halted, her nose twitching. "It smells so good," she murmured, inhaling deeply.

The savory scent led their gaze toward the riverbank. Bianca’s jaw dropped when she saw Vivienne rotating a perfectly golden-brown, crispy hare over a professional-looking fire pit.

"Vivienne, you found food?" Bianca asked, her voice cracking with fatigue. "Did you catch that by yourself? How did you do it so fast?"

Gavin crossed his arms, scoffing to mask his own gnawing hunger. "She probably stumbled upon a dead carcass left by a predator. Pure luck."

Bianca looked down at the wilted leaves in her hands, her stomach rumbling loudly. "We failed. We could not catch the chickens. These weeds might be poisonous. What are we supposed to eat?"

Donovan swallowed hard, his eyes glued to the sizzling meat. The sky above grew darker, painting the clouds in shades of deep purple and black. "We have to try again before we lose the light," he suggested, though his voice lacked conviction.

Ignoring them, Vivienne rotated the spit. The rabbit’s skin cracked, glistening with rendered fat. It looked tender and delicious. The trio swallowed subconsciously, their hunger clawing at their insides.

Desperate, Bianca turned her attention away from Vivienne and spotted Director Preston Cole standing near the crew’s equipment crates. Hoping to leverage her status and charm, she jogged over.

"Mr. Cole, what is the crew eating tonight?" Bianca asked, flashing a cautious, pleading smile.

Preston chuckled, reaching into his cargo pocket. He pulled out a fist-sized, bright red wild fruit. "We sent a scout out earlier. Found a fruit tree, but the harvest was tiny. Barely enough for my core team. Sorry, Bianca, you actors are on your own tonight. Part of the survival experience!"

Bianca’s shoulders slumped. She backed away, watching in silent envy as Preston and five other key staff members bit into the strange red fruits.

Ten minutes passed. Bianca sat on a log, rubbing her sore feet, when a sudden, sickening thud echoed across the clearing.

Preston hit the dirt face-first. His body seized, thrashing wildly against the gravel. A guttural, choking sound erupted from his throat. Before anyone could react, the other five staff members collapsed. They clutched their stomachs, convulsing in terrifying unison.

Bianca screamed.

Preston rolled onto his back, his eyes rolling into his skull. Thick, dark blood bubbled from his lips, spilling down his chin and staining his shirt collar. He vomited another mouthful of crimson fluid, coughing violently.

"The fruits!" a crew member shouted, his voice cracking with terror. "The fruits are poisonous!"

Blind panic erupted. The surviving camera operators and sound technicians dropped their gear, rushing toward the fallen men. They possessed zero medical training. They hovered over the convulsing bodies, shouting useless instructions.

The poisoned staff vomited more blood, their bodies going rigid before slumping into an unconscious, motionless state.

"They stopped breathing!" a producer screamed, pressing two fingers to Preston’s bloody neck. "Get them to the boat! We need a doctor now!"

Chaos consumed the campsite. The surviving crew members hysterically grabbed Preston and the others by their arms and belts, hastily dragging their dead weight across the dirt. They hauled the unconscious bodies onto the metal deck of the massive production cruise ship docked near the shore.

The ship’s engine roared to life, churning the water into white foam. The heavy mooring ropes snapped free. Without a single word of instruction, the ship detached from the dock and accelerated, fleeing the island at top speed.

The celebrities stood frozen on the shore, dumbfounded.

In a matter of minutes, the massive production crew vanished, leaving the pampered actors utterly abandoned in the unforgiving wilderness.

"Mr. Cole!" Bianca rushed to the water’s edge, waving her arms frantically at the retreating vessel. "Come back! You cannot leave us here! What are we supposed to do?"

The cruise ship shrank to a speck on the horizon. No one answered her cries.

Bianca fell to her knees, tears pooling in her eyes. "We are stranded. They left us."

Donovan stepped up, trying to project authority despite his pale face. "Do not panic. They had a medical emergency. Once the crew stabilizes the director, they will realize they left us behind. They will send a boat back. We just have to wait."

Soon after the dust settled, Camilla and Nathaniel emerged from the tree line. Camilla walked empty-handed, her dress stained with mud and rabbit blood. Nathaniel trailed behind her, carrying a pathetic, thin pile of dry hay.

"We did not find a good cave," Camilla announced, forcing her gentle, amicable tone. "We will just make beds here in the clearing. Nate and I brought some hay to sleep on."

She stopped, looking around the deserted campsite. The cameras lay abandoned on the dirt. The equipment crates sat open.

"Where is Mr. Cole?" Camilla asked, her brow furrowing. "Where did the crew go?"

Bianca pointed a trembling finger at the large pools of drying, thick blood staining the gravel. "They ate poisonous fruit. Mr. Cole and the staff vomited blood and stopped breathing. The rest of the crew dragged them onto the ship and drove away to find a hospital. We are abandoned."

Camilla stared at the bloodstains. The place looked like a slaughterhouse. "The whole crew left? No one stayed behind to film?"

"The director is dying," Gavin snapped, his nerves fried. "Of course they stopped filming. We just have to survive until the investors send a rescue team."

Hearing that the cameras were gone, Camilla’s carefully maintained, tender facade evaporated in an instant. Her posture shifted. Her soft eyes hardened into a vicious glare.

Since she stepped off the boat, she had loathed this island. The grass sliced at her bare legs. Mosquitoes swarmed her face, leaving red, itchy welts along her neck. The bloody encounter with Vivienne still haunted her, the metallic stench clinging to her jacket. She had forced a smile for the lens, playing the resilient sweetheart. But with no crew to judge her, the act died.

A fresh breeze swept through the camp, carrying the rich, intoxicating scent of Vivienne’s roasted hare. Camilla’s stomach betrayed her, letting out a loud, aggressive growl. She swallowed the excess saliva filling her mouth, ravenously hungry. Her strict dieting routine left her weak on a normal day; right now, she felt ready to collapse.

Camilla whipped her head toward Bianca, glaring at the meager pile of wilted leaves in the actress's lap.

"What is that?" Camilla spat, her voice dripping with venom. "Nate and I break our backs dragging hay through the woods, and you three come back with some dead grass? Pigs would not even eat such garbage!"

Bianca shrank back, shocked by the sudden hostility. "We tried! The chickens ran too fast."

"We saw hobbled chickens limping through the brush!" Camilla yelled, stepping closer. "You could not catch a broken bird? You are pathetic."

Bianca’s eyes flashed with anger. "We did our best! You only brought back a handful of dry hay! That is not even enough for one person to sit on, let alone five! Do not blame us!"

Camilla’s eyes narrowed into slits. "Are you talking back to me?"

Bianca swallowed her retort. She knew Nathaniel wielded massive power in the industry. Offending Camilla meant career suicide. She dropped her gaze, biting her lip in silent frustration.

Nathaniel stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "If you do not like the hay, sleep in the mud."

Camilla ignored the bickering, her gaze locking onto Vivienne in the distance. Vivienne sat comfortably on a smooth rock, tearing a piece of golden, steaming meat from the rabbit’s leg. The juices dripped down her chin.

Camilla grabbed Nathaniel’s arm, leaning into him, playing the desperate victim. "Nate, I have been walking for hours. I am starving. I cannot take this."

Nathaniel stared at the roasted meat. Driven mad by the savory scent and his own burning hunger, an air of arrogant entitlement settled over him. He puffed out his chest, marching straight across the clearing toward Vivienne’s camp. Camilla and the other three starving actors trailed closely behind, hoping to scavenge the scraps.

Nathaniel stopped a few feet from Vivienne’s fire, looking down his nose at her.

"Split that meat in half," Nathaniel demanded outright. "Give the best pieces to Camilla."

Vivienne did not look up. She chewed a piece of tender meat, swallowed, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Get lost."

Nathaniel’s face turned grim. "You are being unreasonable. Camilla tried to include you earlier, and you treated her like garbage. Now she is hungry. You have plenty."

Vivienne stared at the flames. "I hunted it. I cooked it. Piss off."

Nathaniel stepped closer, casting a shadow over her fire. He decided to use the ultimate bargaining chip. "Listen to me. If you hand over the food right now and apologize to Camilla for your attitude, I will do you a favor. When we get rescued, I will personally plead with Mom and Dad. I will tell them you learned your lesson. I will let you return to the Davenport residence."

Vivienne stopped chewing. She slowly raised her head, looking at Nathaniel as if he had suffered a traumatic brain injury.

"Return to the Davenport residence?" Vivienne scoffed, a blunt, cruel laugh escaping her lips. "I do not care about returning to a house lacking a single mentally sound person. You people are delusional. I would not step foot back in that mansion even if you begged me on your bloody knees."

Nathaniel flushed crimson, the rejection hitting his massive ego like a physical blow.

Standing behind him, enraged by the insult and half-mad with starvation, Camilla stepped forward. She dropped her pristine, innocent persona entirely. Her face twisted into a snarl.

"Nate, cut the crap," Camilla ordered aggressively, speaking through tightly gritted teeth. "Words do not work with her. She is a violent bitch who sold our family shares and humiliated me. Physically teach her a lesson!"

Vivienne sneered, picking up her hunting knife and twirling it lazily in her hand. "Still pushing that fake narrative? The shares were in my name. Falsely accusing me requires a functioning brain, which you clearly lack."

Camilla’s vision blurred with rage. She ignored Vivienne’s taunt, turning her venomous attention to the other three actors. Bianca, Gavin, and Donovan stood a few paces back, their stomachs hollow, their eyes fixed on the remaining rabbit meat.

Camilla saw their weakness. She strategically dangled a glittering, irresistible bait.

"Listen to me," Camilla commanded, pointing a manicured finger at the trio. "She insulted me. She targeted me. If you take my side right now, if you help us beat her into submission and take her gear, I will reward you. When we get off this island, I will personally speak to Harrison. I will ensure he provides you with high-budget film roles. I will get you lucrative luxury brand endorsements. Guaranteed."

The three actors froze. In the hyper-competitive entertainment industry, resources like that were mythical. Donovan had spent years clawing for decent scripts. Bianca dreamed of holding a luxury perfume bottle on a billboard. Tempted by the incredibly rare career boost, and driven by a primal, gnawing hunger, their morals wavered.

They hesitated only briefly.

Bianca nervously shifted her weight, glancing around the dark trees. "But... what if someone finds out? Exposing this kind of violence would ruin our public image permanently."

Camilla sneered with absolute confidence. She swept her arm across the empty campsite. "Are you blind? The production team vanished. The director is probably dead. The cameras are gone. No one is watching."

She leaned in, lowering her voice to a sinister whisper. "As long as we stick to the same story, we are bulletproof. If she tries to spread rumors about a beating, we uniformly deny it. We falsely accuse her of bullying us and hoarding food. Who do you think the netizens will believe? Three reputable, beloved celebrities, or a known, scandalous pariah?"

The vile logic settled over the trio. It made perfect sense. They had the numbers. They had the reputation.

"We agree," Donovan said, his voice dropping an octave as he stepped forward.

"Tell us what to do," Gavin added, cracking his neck.

Bianca nodded, her eyes hardening as she locked onto Vivienne’s food.

Camilla smiled, a cruel, satisfied curve of her lips. She pointed at Vivienne’s camp. "Snatch the food. Grab her backpack. I saw she packed a heavy-duty tent and an inflatable bed. We take it all."

Strictly following Camilla’s ruthless orders, the group of five spread out. They moved in unison, tightly surrounding Vivienne. Nathaniel cracked his knuckles. Donovan picked up a thick branch from the dirt. Their faces contorted with clear, hostile intent, ready to rip the survival gear from Vivienne’s hands by force.

As they closed the circle, preparing to attack the lone woman, they focused solely on their greed and hunger. They remained entirely oblivious to the silent forest around them.

Tucked into the hollows of the trees, hidden beneath the canopy leaves, and clipped to the branches above, state-of-the-art miniature hidden cameras blinked in the dimming twilight. The lenses, completely invisible in the dark, tracked their every move. The high-definition audio receivers captured every vicious threat, every bribe, and every malicious plan.

The internet livestream had never stopped broadcasting.