Free The Time Stopper by Dima Zales Page A

if I touch the exposed flesh on her/my body, I will leave the Mind Dimension—and the explosion will continue its destruction.
    Leaving would’ve been a cowardly choice, a choice I didn’t even think to make at the time. I would later regret that bravery—or rather, lack of imagination.
    Instead of leaving the Mind Dimension, I run toward the car.
    The flames are frozen. Unreal. As if they’re made of red and yellow silk.
    The full horror of the situation hits me only when I see the expression on Mom’s face.
    She looks white, or at least the parts of her face that aren’t burned do. Her blue eyes are wide open, her irises almost black from her dilated pupils.
    I open the car door and try to pull her out. In her body’s rigid state, she’s like a human-sized doll. As I’m straining under her weight, I know that this is futile. I’ve never been able to change anything in the real world by what I’ve done in the Mind Dimension. Still, I’m hoping that today will be different. That Mom will be out of the car in the real world simply because it matters so much to me.
    Except the universe doesn’t give a fuck what matters to me.
    I quiet my mind and touch her face. I begin the Reading process, another brave action that will later haunt me. Like always, Reading her shows me the world through her eyes. I lose myself in her head. For that minute, I become we . The horror of my mom’s last moments becomes mine—so it’s me, too, who’s beginning to realize we are about to burn alive.
    Later, I will think about who caused the explosion and wonder if I can ever un-live it, but right now, I just leave her head and look into the car again.
    Dad’s face is free of burns. I will later hypothesize that the explosive was on the passenger side. His mouth is half-open in an expression of terror that contorts his whole face. I take all this in and am overcome with another idea that I will later regret.
    I run to the side door and touch Dad’s face through his open window, not really thinking about what I’m doing. Except I do know what I’m doing. I’m bringing him into the Mind Dimension. That’s what touching another Reader does—and that’s what Dad is, a Reader, like me and my brother.
    Unlike Mom, who doesn’t have our abilities.
    As soon as I touch his skin, another Dad, a screaming Dad, shows up in the back of the car.
    “Nyyyeeet!” He switches to Russian as he always does when he’s stressed. Then he registers me and screams, “Mira, honey, no!” His accent is heavier than usual.
    “It’s okay, Dad,” I soothe. “We’re in the Mind Dimension.”
    “It’s true. We are.” He looks around, terror replaced with a different emotion on his face. A darker emotion that I can’t exactly place. “Where is she?” he says after looking at the passenger’s seat.
    “I took her outside. I was hoping she’d stay outside.”
    Not saying anything, he gets out of the car and looks at Mom. “She’s already burned.”
    “I know,” I say thoughtlessly. “I Read her. She’s in a lot of pain.”
    My dad looks like I flogged him with those words, but he quickly hides his reaction.
    “In the real world, where are you standing, sweetie?” he says. “Tell me. Quickly.”
    “Over there . . .” I point. “Too far to help you.”
    “That’s good.” His shaking voice is filled with relief. “The blast shouldn’t reach you there. But you still have to fall on the ground when you get back to your body and cover your ears for me. Promise me you’ll do this. It’s important.”
    “I promise, Dad.” I’m beginning to understand what I have done to him. By pulling him out, I made sure that he could see himself dying in that car. That he could reflect on it. Dwell on it.
    “I’m sorry.” My voice also begins to shake. “I shouldn’t have pulled you in.”
    “Don’t say that.” He smiles at me. It’s one of the last smiles I’ll have from him. “I’m glad I’ll have a chance to . . . a