"Eden? Are you okay?" Millie asks, her voice tight with concern.
I nod once, mechanically, and unlock the chain. The gate creaks open. Her group steps past me in a blur of giggles and shoves. I don't speak. I just watch.
They clamber into the ride carriage. I walk over, the gravel crunching underfoot, and secure the safety bar with a click that sounds far too loud.
"Eden, speak to me," she presses.
I meet her eyes briefly, force a smile that probably looks more like a grimace, and raise a thumb to Mike in the control booth.
The train shudders, then rolls forward into the darkness of the tunnel.
I step back beside Mike, but something feels... off. A pressure in my chest—not the thud of a heartbeat, but a cold weight, a prelude.
Then I see it.
The next train hasn't arrived yet. It should have by now.
I nudge Mike sharply. He looks, curses under his breath.
"Crap!"
And then—
It hits me.
A vision.
Millie and her friends—laughing, stumbling through the ride. She trips. Her scream slices through the air as she falls into a deep pit—bones snapping like twigs. Her friends scatter in panic, but one—too slow—gets struck by the oncoming train. She crashes into the set, and a loose brick tumbles, slamming into her skull.
The vision evaporates, and I'm back.
Breathless. Cold. Empty.
"Radio it through!" I shout, already sprinting to the emergency cupboard. My fingers fumble for the torch.
"Wait for the supervisor!" Mike yells behind me.
"When it's family, I don't wait!" I growl, already running down the track.
Mike's voice echoes through the speakers, telling riders to remain seated. I continue down the dark tunnel, heart not pounding—but I feel the adrenaline anyway, like ghost veins are pumping phantom blood.
"Millie!" I yell, ducking beneath a fake stone archway. "Millie, where are you?!"
Nothing.
Then... screams.
I follow the sound, the torch beam jittering with each stride.
Her friends are gathered ahead, their phone lights casting wild shadows. One girl's crying. Another's frozen. Millie's scream cuts through them all—sharp, high-pitched. Agonising.
I shove past them.
"Eden!" one girl chokes out. "We're sorry. It was our idea. Our fault."
"I don't care," I snap, voice cold. "I just want her out."
A third girl huffs. "It was her own fault anyway."
My eyes find hers. Something behind them, something detached, dismissive—ignites a spark in my gut.
The universe responds.
She stumbles. Just like in the vision. Her foot catches. She topples onto the props. I look up... too late.
The brick shifts.
Then falls.
Crack.
Blood spatters. Screams rise. The other girls scatter like startled birds.
I ignore them. Stood staring at the lifeless body.
Swinging my legs over the pit's edge, I lower myself down carefully.
"Eden! What the hell was that?! What are you doing?" Mike yells as he runs over.
"Trust me," I call up.
Then I drop.
My feet hit solid ground, then give way. Pain explodes in my right ankle, and I fall with a grunt beside Millie.
She's curled into herself, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Shhh," I whisper, crawling to her. "Big bro's here. You're okay."
Her legs are destroyed. Splintered bones push against torn jeans. Blood pools beneath her.
"I'd rather die than feel this!" she sobs.
"Don't say that!" I hiss, grabbing my torch. I shine it on my own leg.
I roll up my trouser leg and roll down my sock. My ankle's the wrong shape. Definitely
broken or dislocated or maybe both.
"Eden! Are you hurt?" Mike shouts from above.
"I'll live! Millie's the priority!" I bark.
I slump back against a concrete slab. Millie reaches out, her fingers trembling as she grips my foot.
"Let me help," she says, barely above a whisper.
I bite into my fleece sleeve and nod.
She yanks.
Crunch.
A muffled scream escapes into the fabric. White flashes behind my eyes. But the joint resets.
"Thanks," I whisper, breath ragged.
A rope drops from above. Mike peers down with a flashlight.
"Tie her on—we've got her!"
I make a loop, sliding it beneath her knees, wincing at every whimper she makes.
"She's ready!" I call.
They lift her slowly. I keep my eyes on her the whole way up, nodding when she glances down at me, terrified.
A second rope follows.
I grab on, biting my tongue through the pain as they haul me up. And I hobble to follow the ambulance crew wheeling Millie out.
The first aid room blurs past in chaos. Millie lies on a stretcher, sobbing into the gas and air mask. I stand beside her, placing my fleece over her.
She shivers, pressing into me. I rest my head gently against hers.
"Don't talk like that again," I whisper. "I couldn't take it if you meant it."
"I was scared. I still am," she sniffles. "I thought it was over."
Mitch rushes in, wild-eyed. "What the hell happened?! Phil called me."
"A vision," I mutter. "I tried to stop it. I wasn't fast enough."
He stands beside me, eyes flicking between us. "Phil said you've been acting weird."
"Off day," I reply, voice flat.
Then the door bursts open.
Dad storms in, Phil behind him. He rushes straight to Millie.
"We're waiting to move the ambulance so we can load her," Phil says.
Dad doesn't answer. He just holds Millie's hand while she sucks on the gas.
I stand nearby. I need air, I step towards the door when I overhear dad...
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Dad murmurs. "I should've never let you come here alone. And I shouldn't have trusted Eden."
That stops me cold.
"It won't happen again."
"Thanks, Dad," I mutter. "Glad to know I'm really nailing the brother role."
He rises, turning toward me. "I don't know who you are anymore. You don't feel like my son. Bad things follow you."
My chest tightens. No heartbeat. Just a void that aches anyway.
Millie stares at him, stunned. I walk out and let the door slam behind me.
The psychic tent glows like a bruise in the twilight. The old woman from before spots me and immediately backs into a corner.
"Stay away!"
I raise my hands. "What's the problem?"
"It's not my time yet!"
I raise an eyebrow. "I'm not here to reap, if that's what you're thinking."
"You're death itself," she breathes. "The Grim Reaper."
I grin and sit across from her. She trembles, clutching her shawl.
"So you see it."
"You hide it well. But I see past the mask."
"Smart for an old lady."
"I knew it the day the man died. You were terrified then. But now? You know what you are."
I lean closer. "And when the others find out?They'll fear you. Or worse."
"Good thing no one listens to psychics."
I say as I stand.
She flinches.
Mitch is outside, watching. Eyes full of questions.
I walk past him, light a cigarette, and lean against the wall.
He follows. "Tell me she's wrong. Please."
"About what?"
"You. What's happening to you?"
I glance at the darkening sky. "People change."
"That fast?" Mitch interrupts.
"This place changes people." I say as I exhale the smoke from my lungs.
The ambulance finally pulls up. I flick the cigarette away and head back in.
We detour toward the food court. Mitch insists we've got to eat.
"I'll be quick. Gonna hit the toilets," I say, peeling off.
Inside, it's quiet. Too quiet.
I step up to the mirror. Breathe. Then—
Pain. Deep and cold. Like a migraine in reverse.
I touch my head. Blood.
"What the hell…"
I dig my fingers in. My skin peels away easily, no pain. Like damp paper.
My forehead, eyes, nose—gone. A clean, wet skull stares back.
And I don't even flinch.
Just me. As I am.
Then there's knocks that echo from the door.
"You okay, Eden?" Mitch calls.
I stare at the door. Then back at the mirror.
I pull my skin back on. It seals instantly, like it was never lifted.
"Yeah," I reply, voice steady.
Just another day pretending I'm alive.