A scream ripped from my throat. The safety bar wasn’t just hot – it was sizzling. I could feel the heat baking my skin even from an inch away. Little wisps of smoke curled up from the red-hot metal.
Maya let out a terrified whimper, trying to shrink away from the bar, but there was nowhere to go. We were pinned.
The ride operator, the thing with the glowing eyes, just stood there, that terrible, stretched-out smile plastered on his face. “The first ride is always the warmest,” he rasped, his voice like sandpaper. “It gets you ready for the fun.”
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