A group of my fellow high school students is spending a few days at a retreat in the hills. There is a mine track rollercoaster that tours guests through the woodland ridges. My brother-in-law built the coaster and tells me it's dangerous. A few of us pile in a cart and start up the giant hill. When we get to the top, there is another small hill before the significant drop. Joseph, the teenager, sitting next to me, leans back exaggeratedly far. He doesn't see the next hill coming. When the cart takes the mound, Joseph's head hits the track, and he begins to fall out. I try to pull him back inside, but it's too late. Joseph lies on the route with a severe head injury. The cart malfunctions and starts rolling backward. Joseph is run over. He is dead. While in shock, I try to call Chad to inform him of the situation. I tell him to stop the mine carts on the track. My frantic fingers cannot find his number in my phone. The next cart rolls along and runs over Joseph's body. I see Chad standing on a boulder. I inform him of our situation. The roller coaster comes to a standstill. We get off of the ride.
"This ride is dangerous!" I yell to Chad. Heated, he yells, "I told you it was dangerous!"
Standing on the ground, I can see paramedics carrying joseph's body down on a gurney. I can't look. I turn and walk away. As dusk approaches, most of the guests have left the retreat. I call my mom and ask her to pick me up. I'm standing next to a cabin where the female guests stayed. A car pulls up. I assume a guest is picking up their belongings, so I walk away. As the sky is dark and the retreat is still, my mom shows up. Chad tells her what happened. While the scent of horror is still in the air, we drive home.
I wake up
