We pull into the car park. Mitch kills the engine and jumps out before I even unbuckle my seatbelt. I follow quickly and walk around to his side, reaching for his sleeve.
"Just go home," I mumble.
He looks up at me, then back at his car. Shaking his head, he pulls his arm free.
"I need to be at work. I need to watch over you," he says, locking the car.
"You're suspended! You can't. I'll be fine, stop worrying about me." I snap.
I storm off toward the entrance. I hate how everyone is worrying about me. Why? It shouldn't be me they're worried about, it's what I could be capable of. It's not concern I deserve. It's fear. And maybe they're right.
The usual buzz of the park hasn't quite kicked in yet. Everything feels strangely still, like the moment before a thunderstorm. My footsteps echo more than they should as I reach the staff room.
I walk in. Everyone looks at me, surprised. I plaster on a smile and head to the chairs, sinking into one like nothing's wrong.
"What the hell? How are you out of the hospital?" Mike asks, brows raised.
"I'm a fast healer," I laugh, brushing it off.
"You were impaled!" Lollie shouts.
"Are you sure?" I grin, trying to keep it light.
Sammy and Dom eye me up and down, like they're expecting me to drop dead right then and there. Then they walk out the door without a word.
I stand and sign in on the rota, then check the clipboard to make sure all the rides were inspected. It's routine, familiar—safe. I turn around, and something about Lollie catches my attention. A flicker. A faint glow. I don't know how to explain it.
"Are you pregnant?" I ask without thinking.
Her eyes widen as she stares at me. I think she already knew, but Mike didn't. Not until now.
"What?" Mike yells, nearly knocking over the chair as he stands.
"I'm sorry!" I panic, holding up my hands like that'll somehow undo what I said.
"Eden... How did you even know that?" Lollie asks, voice shaking.
I shrug, suddenly cold. I don't have an answer. I bolt out the door. I've truly messed up. How did I pick that up? It wasn't just a hunch. It was like I felt it. Like her body whispered it to mine.
I get to the ghost train, my morning assignment. I can't believe they've put me with Mike again after everything. The air around the ride feels heavy, like the attraction itself remembers what happened here.
I stand at the control panel and wait. I'm dreading what he'll say.
Mike walks over, his jaw tight.
"How did you know?" he shouts.
"I guessed," I reply quickly.
He shakes his head, sliding his hands into his red work coat pockets.
"Honestly, she just seemed different, so I asked the question," I continue, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
"Let's just drop it," he mutter
I nod and stuff my hands into my fleece pockets. The silence between us grows like a wall. We wait as the park opens and people start streaming in. Families. Kids with sticky fingers and wide eyes. Oblivious to everything that happened. Oblivious to what's brewing inside me.
I spot Millie's friends first, then Millie herself. Of course Dad let her out here. I'm the one working. I'm the one who shouldn't be around people. But sure, let the kid roam free.
"Hi Eden! Hi Mike!" she shouts, running over like this is just another fun day.
"What are you doing here?" I laugh, genuinely amused despite myself.
"Dad said I'd be fine because you work here. So, here I am," she grins.
She walks to my side and slips a whiskey flask into my pocket. I blink at her, confused.
"Trial and error—but don't drink it out in the open," she whispers. "And no, it's not whiskey."
"What is it?" I ask, already uneasy.
"If I'm right, it'll improve you in some way," she says, climbing into the train with her friends.
"Improve me?" I echo in my head.
"Mike, I'm just going to the toilets, I'll be back asap," I say, rushing off.
"Be quick!" he calls after me.
I get to the staff toilets and lock the door. This is probably the only private place I can try this. My hands tremble as I pull the flask from my pocket. The metal feels warm. Like it's been waiting.
I unfasten the top and hesitate.
"Do I drink it in one?" I ask myself. "I'll drink it in one," I mutter.
I tip the flask back and drain it fast. The taste is oddly familiar, sweet and metallic. Like blood and syrup. I screw the lid back on and stare at my reflection.
"What is this supposed to do?" I whisper.
A sharp pain slices through my stomach, knocking the breath from me. I drop to my knees, one hand gripping my gut, the other bracing against the cold tile. The pain spreads through my arms, legs, up to my neck like wildfire. I scream, the sound bouncing off the tiles.
I drag myself up using the sink. My reflection stares back—no, not mine. My eyes are pitch black. Black veins crawl up my neck like ivy. I unzip my fleece and rip it off. My arms—same thing. Veins, black and alive.
I grip the sink, trying to ground myself—but it shatters beneath my fingers.
I stumble back, staring at the fractured mirror. Something dark and primal pulses in me. I feel rage rising, hot and blinding. Nothing is going right. This was supposed to help. It made me worse.
The mirror explodes.
I slam against the door, eyes squeezed shut. My chest heaves as I take deep, desperate breaths. Slowly, the burning sensation ebbs. The veins retreat. It feels like I've just survived something, but I don't know what. Suddenly there is a knock on the door.
"Is everything okay in there?" a voice calls.
I look at my hands. Normal. Arms... normal. I let out a shaky sigh and open the door. I slip my fleece back on like armor.
"I don't know what happened in there, but it's a mess," I say with a forced smile.
I hurry back to the ghost train. Millie is queuing again with her friends. Mike seems fine, oblivious.
"Sorry I was long," I pant.
"You've been gone ten minutes, dude. That's not long," Mike says.
"Oh. Must've lost track of time," I mumble.
I pull on my gloves and secure the safety bar for the next group. I give Mike a thumbs up, and the train starts with a mechanical groan.
I return to the control panel, my chest feeling tighter by the second. Millie and her friends are next in line. And whatever that drink was... it's still in me. Humming. Waiting.