Left Behind in the Abyss

Two hundred feet beneath the surface, I shoved my last backup regulator into Veronica’s mouth. To save my mother’s favorite protege, I skipped two vital decompression stops. When they hauled me onto the research vessel, the ship’s doctor warned that I needed to get into the only decompression chamber immediately, or I’d be permanently paralyzed. Instead, right in front of millions watching the expedition livestream, my mother pushed Veronica into the chamber. "Chloe is my daughter," she announced to the cameras, soaking in the praise. "That’s exactly why I won’t let her receive special treatment." Three hours later, I lost all feeling below my waist. Veronica, the girl I had just dragged from the brink of death, stole my dive log and was hailed across the country as a deep-sea hero. Three days later, my mother walked into my hospital room. I thought she was finally there to apologize. Instead, she handed me an official incident report. "Just sign this," she said softly. "Admit you dove past your limit and threw a tantrum over medical resources. If you sign, we can all put this behind us." I looked down at my limp, lifeless legs and let out a cold, bitter laugh. My life had never been as important to her as her pristine public image. "Chloe, Veronica is taking the lead camera for this dive." We were twenty minutes from dive time. The Leviathan was anchored near Triton Reef. I was kneeling on the deck, running diagnostics on the underwater sensors. Hearing my mother’s voice, my hands froze. On the mission clipboard, my name under Lead Diver had been aggressively crossed out with a black marker. In its place: Veronica Stone. "I designed those sensors," I said, looking up. "I spent four months calculating the telemetry for Point Three. Veronica has never even completed an installation at two hundred feet." My mother, Director Evelyn Vance, finally tore her eyes away from her tablet. "If she doesn't have experience, when will she ever get it?" she scolded. "You’re my daughter, Chloe. You should know how to be graceful and step aside." Step aside. It was always the same excuse. Three years ago, I graduated top of my class, but she gave the rookie-of-the-year grant to the runner-up. Last year, when I scored the highest overall in the national deep-sea program trials, she handed the sole spot to Veronica. Her reasoning? Veronica was an orphan. Her father had been my mother’s diving partner a decade ago, and he died saving my mother’s life. Ever since, my mother had turned her guilt into an obsession. And I was the one footing the bill for her redemption. A few feet away, Veronica stood in brand-new custom gear, smiling brightly for the camera crew. "With Director Vance guiding me, I’m not scared at all!" she chirped. My mother walked over, affectionately adjusting Veronica’s shoulder straps. "Just don't push yourself, sweetheart. Stick strictly to protocol." I hadn’t heard that tender tone directed at me in years. Ten minutes later, we broke the surface and descended into the abyss. Two hundred feet down, the coral loomed like a haunted forest. The moment we reached the target depth, Veronica kept kicking deeper. Two hundred and five feet. Two hundred and fifteen. Two hundred and twenty-five. I hit the push-to-talk button on my comms, my voice sharp. "Stone, abort descent. Return to the planned depth immediately." She let out a breathy laugh over the radio. "What's the rush, Chloe? The live feed just caught a rare crimson gorgonian deeper down. I’m just going to bag a quick sample and come back up." She wanted the glory shot. I had no choice but to kick hard and dive after her. At two hundred and thirty feet, she suddenly seized up. Her air gauge was flickering dangerously low—under thirty bar. "Chloe," she whimpered, panic trembling in her voice. "I... I’m out of air." "Drop the sample container!" I ordered. "Grab my octopus rig and follow my ascent. Now!" She clutched the heavy titanium specimen box to her chest like a newborn child. "No! Millions of people are watching! I can't drop it!" I lunged forward to rip it out of her hands. In her blind panic, she snatched my chest-mounted backup regulator, thrashing her fins so violently that she kicked off my safety tether. A sudden undertow caught me, dragging me into the black trench below. By the time I clawed my way onto a rock ledge, she was already rocketing toward the surface in a full-blown uncontrolled ascent. I kicked with everything I had, caught up to her, and locked my arm around her vest. "Stop kicking!" I barked into her faceplate. "Breathe with my rhythm!" One hundred and sixty feet. One hundred and thirty feet. Our first decompression stop arrived on my dive computer. Her tank was bone dry. And my primary tank didn't have enough gas for two people to complete the required safety stops. My mother’s voice crackled through the comms from the surface. "How is Veronica?" Not a word about me. "Critically low gas," I gasped. "We’re executing an emergency ascent." A brief pause on the line. "Prioritize Veronica's safety," my mother commanded. I didn't have time to argue. I shoved my own primary regulator into Veronica’s mouth. The second decompression ceiling flashed red on my dive computer and vanished behind us. When we finally broke the surface, the ocean was spinning, and my vision was fading to black. The crew hauled Veronica onto the deck first. My mother dropped to her knees beside her, holding her face, murmuring, "You’re safe now. You’re okay." My hands slipped on the icy ladder. Nobody even looked my way. Until the dive medic, Julian, yelled at the top of his lungs, "There’s another diver in the water!" They dragged me onto the deck, and I collapsed against the metal grating. My lungs burned like they were full of crushed glass. Suddenly, the dive computer strapped to my wrist shrieked with an ear-splitting alarm: [CRITICAL ERROR: DECOMPRESSION STOPS MISSED.] [SPINAL DECOMPRESSION SICKNESS RISK: 92%.] [IMMEDIATE HYPERBARIC RECOMPRESSION REQUIRED.]"Get the hyperbaric chamber ready! Now!" Julian checked my pupils and the response in my limbs, his face draining of color. The Leviathan had two hyperbaric units on board, but the multi-person chamber was offline for scheduled maintenance. There was only a single-occupancy chamber available. Julian pointed straight at me. "Get Chloe inside immediately." Right then, Veronica gasped, clutching her chest. "I can't breathe..." she sobbed, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Director Vance, it hurts... everything hurts." My mother wrapped her arms around her instantly. Julian cast a quick glance over. "Her vitals are stable, speech is clear, and her motor functions are intact. Put her on high-flow oxygen and monitor her. Chloe is already showing active neurological deficits. She takes priority." Veronica looked up, trembling, her face wet with tears. "It’s okay... let Chloe go first. She’s the Director’s daughter. She deserves priority." The cameras were still rolling. On the giant monitor mounted to the bridge bulkhead, the live chat was exploding. Is the Director’s daughter really cutting the line for the life-saving chamber? Nepo babies make me sick. Shame on her! The mission coordinator, Frank, leaned close to my mother’s ear, whispering urgently, "Evelyn, there are ten million people on this stream. The comments are already turning vicious." My mother went stiff. Her greatest fear in life was being accused of favoritism. Every award I had ever won, she made me surrender. Every injury I suffered, she called a "necessary sacrifice" for the greater good. "Chloe," my mother said, kneeling down, her eyes scanning me anxiously. "What are you feeling right now?" "My legs are numb," I rasped, my tongue heavy. "Dizzy. Can't grip with my right hand." Julian’s voice cut through like ice. "Type II Decompression Sickness. Neurological. Every minute we waste increases the chance of permanent, irreversible paralysis." Veronica began coughing violently. "My dive watch glitched... the telemetry was wrong. I think I went way deeper than two hundred and thirty feet!" Sure enough, the screen on Veronica's wrist was completely black. It was my spare watch—one that had a low battery before we even jumped. Now, she was using it as proof of a life-threatening plunge. Julian knelt to test her deep tendon reflexes, but Veronica flinched away, screaming, "Don't touch me! It hurts too much!" Even the onboard nurse gave Veronica a skeptical side-eye. "My assessment stands," Julian insisted firmly. "Chloe goes in." My mother’s face hardened. "Are you implying Veronica is faking?" "I am looking at clinical facts." "Her father died from decompression sickness!" my mother snapped, her voice rising for the broadcast microphones. "She says she has chest pain, and you're brushing it off as emotional?" Julian stared directly into her eyes. "Director Vance. The person lying paralyzed on this deck is your daughter." My mother flinched. Frank tapped her shoulder, pointing at the monitor again. Words like Nepotism, Abuse of Power, and Corrupt Leadership were flooding the screen. That did it. "Put Veronica in the chamber," my mother commanded. Julian whipped his head around. "Evelyn, are you out of your mind?!" "I am the mission commander!" she barked. "I take full responsibility for all emergency protocols!" The chamber hatch clicked open. My mother personally helped Veronica to her feet. As they walked past me, Veronica glanced down. Tears were still streaming down her cheeks, but in her eyes, there was a cold, venomous smirk. I reached out with my trembling, numb hand, catching the hem of my mother’s pants. "Mom... just look at my telemetry. Please." She paused, looking down. A flicker of hesitation crossed her eyes. Then she saw the camera lens pointed directly at her. She yanked her leg away. "Because you are my daughter, I cannot give you special treatment," she said, her voice loud, clear, and perfectly righteous for the audience. "You’ll just have to bear with it this time." Bear with it. Losing the ability to walk was just something I had to "bear with." The heavy steel door of the chamber swung shut and sealed. My mother pressed her palm against the small glass portal, comforting Veronica inside. "Don't be afraid, honey. I’m right here." I lay three feet away on the cold deck. A memory flashed into my mind—when I was seven, an undertow swept me against a sea wall. My mother had stayed by my hospital bed all night, weeping, swearing she would rather die than let me suffer. The next second, the muscles in my right leg completely collapsed. My knee slammed hard against the metal grating. I didn't feel a thing.Julian pressed down hard on my kneecap with a pen. "Feel that?" I shook my head. He moved his hands up. My calf. My thigh. My lower hip. Sensation was vanishing, like ice melting into nothing. "Cut the livestream right now!" Julian roared at the crew. "Turn the ship around! Call a Coast Guard medevac chopper!" My mother turned around from the chamber window. "Can't we just wait until Veronica finishes her first cycle before swapping Chloe in?" Julian let out a furious, incredulous laugh. "A single recompression profile takes at least four and a half hours! She has active, ascending sensory loss! If we wait, she will never walk again!" The crew shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between Julian and the Director. Evelyn was the head of the institute. Frank controlled their funding and performance reviews. Nobody was willing to blow up their career for me. My mother hesitated. "If we call in a military medevac, the press will blow this completely out of proportion." Julian froze. "Your daughter is about to be paralyzed, and you're worried about bad press?" "This mission represents federal funding for the next five years!" my mother hissed defensively. "We cannot cause a public panic based on an unverified diagnosis!" Julian grabbed my right leg, lifted it two feet in the air, and let go. It dropped like dead weight, hitting the deck with a dull thud. I didn't even flinch. "Is that verified enough for you?" Julian snarled. My mother finally knelt beside me. She placed a trembling hand on my forehead. "Chloe... how bad is it really?" "I can't feel my legs," I whispered, tears blurring my vision. "My back is burning. I’m nauseous." I stared into her eyes. "Mom, I’m terrified." Her gaze wavered. Suddenly, Veronica’s voice came over the chamber intercom. "Director Vance... I just remembered something," Veronica sniffled softly. "Down there... Chloe refused to share her air with me. I begged her over and over before she finally let go of the regulator." I whipped my head toward the chamber window in pure disbelief. Veronica looked flushed, breathing calmly, showing zero signs of respiratory distress. She buried her face in her hands. "Maybe... maybe she was just mad that I got to be on the lead camera..." My mother’s hand slowly pulled away from my forehead. She stood up, looking down at me with cold disappointment. "Is what she said true?" "No!" I choked out. "She blew past the depth limit! She ripped off my backup regulator! I dragged her to the surface, and that’s why I missed my stops—" "Enough!" My mother snapped, her voice like a whip. "Even now, you're trying to shift blame! Veronica was on the verge of death, and you’re still slandering her?" I stared through the glass at the girl sitting comfortably in the chamber. "The one who’s dying is me." My mother flinched as if stung, then exploded in anger. "Don't you dare manipulate me with death! You’ve pulled this stunt since you were a child! A stomachache before exams, a headache before competitions, and now you’re pretending you can’t feel your legs! I have spoiled you rotten, Chloe!" The ocean wind whipped across the deck. It was freezing, but it didn't hold a candle to the ice in her voice. I was born premature. I had weak lungs. She used to know that better than anyone. When did my pain turn into drama? When did my agony become "attention-seeking"? Frank walked over, keeping an eye on the camera monitors. "The chat is blowing up about the chamber drama. Move Chloe into the equipment hold. Don't let her contaminate public opinion." Two crew members lifted my stretcher. As they carried me past my mother, she didn't stop them. She took a deliberate step back to clear the way. The heavy steel door of the equipment hold slammed shut. Through the ventilation grate, the presenter’s cheerful voice boomed over the deck speakers: "Veronica Stone is out of danger! After experiencing an equipment failure at extreme depths, she bravely assisted her dive partner back to the surface..." Applause erupted across the ship. Then came my mother’s voice over the microphone: "Veronica represents the absolute best of our next generation of marine scientists. As for the other diver involved, the institute will handle the disciplinary measures internally." The other diver. She didn't even say my name. In the dim hold, Julian ripped off his headset and grabbed my dive watch. "I'm activating the satellite medical beacon," he said, his jaw clenched. "She won't allow it," I whispered. "I don't need her damn permission to save a life." It was a hidden protocol I had programmed into the system myself. If three consecutive sensor readings confirmed acute neurological failure, it bypassed the ship's bridge and pinged the Coast Guard directly. The red button on the module lit up. "Once you press this, the institute won't be able to sweep it under the rug," Julian warned softly. I closed my eyes. My mother would hate me for ruining her livestream. She would hate me for embarrassing her. But I was done being the obedient daughter. I slammed my thumb down on the button. Ten minutes later, the deafening roar of rotor blades shook the ship. A Coast Guard rescue helicopter hovered directly above the Leviathan.