Obscura Burning by Suzanne van Rooyen

happens when I’m sleeping, but sometimes the shifts happen more abruptly. Like today, I was just walking and then wham, slammed into a different world.”
    “Have you told anyone else about this?” She’s looking a little pale, her freckles standing out across her cheeks.
    “No, only you.”
    “Good, because this is crazy.”
    “I know how it sounds.” I fold away the laptop and shuffle closer to her. “Do you believe me?”
    She studies my face, her hazel eyes darker, a storm brewing behind them.
    “I don’t know. Tell me more about the other me.”
    “She goes swimming at Sully’s, which isn’t under construction. Benny’s still alive, obviously. Beat the crap out of me. You also have a tribal tattoo of an otter on your right shoulder.”
    “Really? An otter?”
    “Is that weird?”
    “No. It’s just…” She pauses. “According to Native American tradition, my animal totem is the otter. Did you know that?”
    I shake my head.
    “Weird, huh?” She squirms a little.
    “Other Mya is also a vegetarian,” I say.
    “Now I really don’t believe you.” She cracks a grin, but it’s fleeting. Chewing on a nail, she asks, “You keep switching between worlds like this? How do you do it?”
    “No idea. It just happens. Go to sleep in one world, wake up in another, or I’m walking and then things change and I’m in a different world again.”
    “That must be tough on your sanity.”
    “It’s getting easier. At first I got so confused. Each time it was like losing Danny or Shira all over again. It was really bad. Thank God the nurses thought it was just PTSD. Took me a while to figure it out. Now I know Shira and Danny are both there, just at different times, so it’s not so hard anymore.”
    “I can’t imagine what that must be like. When did this all start?”
    “Sometime after the fire. I’ve documented it all. Maybe I can show you.”
    The front door opens and footsteps echo in the hallway.
    “Crap,” Mya whispers. “My dad’s home. I’m supposed to be selling ice cream.”
    She cranks open her window, and gestures for me to go first. Her dad’s in the kitchen, fridge door hissing shut, snap of a can opening.
    It’s a tight squeeze, but I manage to haul myself out of the window and land on hands and knees less than half an inch from a spiky cactus hunched over a dry flower bed.
    Mya leaps nimbly from the ledge, grabs my hand, and leads me around the side of the house, ducking low to avoid being seen from the windows. I don’t relish the idea of facing my parents, but they’re less likely to launch into a tirade if I’ve got a friend with me. More than anything, I want to show Mya my book. Maybe she can help me make better sense of it all.
    She’s tugging at my hand, dragging me backward through the sand. The crippled stand of piñon to my left breaks apart like the head of a dandelion, shattering as I turn around to face Mya, but Amy the psychologist shoves me up against the door of her office instead.
     

Chapter Ten
     
     
    Shira’s dead
     
    “Kyle, just calm down.” Amy’s breath is rancid with chili and garlic. She’s strong for such a small woman, all muscle beneath the buttoned blouse and pleated slacks.
    Bright bands of pain constrict my head, driving nails into my brain. Blood spurts from my nose as I crumple to the ground, battling to breathe through the pain in my ribs.
    “Please, don’t send me to the loony bin,” I say as Amy passes me wads of tissue.
    “I’m not sending you anywhere, but I do have a legal obligation to inform your parents if you’re suicidal.”
    I tilt my head back and blood runs down my throat. “I’m not going to kill myself.”
    “That’s not what you said a moment ago.”
    “I didn’t mean it. Sometimes it just gets too much.”
    Amy slides down to sit beside me. “The loss of Shira?”
    “Yeah, the whole situation is just so fucked-up, with Daniel in the chair, you know?” I cast her a sidelong glance. She’s nodding and