Thumbs Up For Your Funeral

Before the ocean swallowed me whole, I did everything in my power to stop my boyfriend and his precious childhood best friend from diving the Devil's Snare.

But Bella wouldnt listen. She was determined to hit the bottom of the cavern, only to trigger a massive silt-out that sucked her right into the suffocating mud.

To save her, my boyfriend shoved me into the blinding debris. He let Bella use my body as a stepping stone to kick her way to safety.

Harper, stop being so selfish, he had said, his voice echoing in my earpiece. Bella is terrified. Let her go first. Youre the professional. I know you can handle it.

He grabbed her hand, and they swam toward the light without ever looking back.

And I died down there, my lungs packed with dark, freezing silt.

Now, I blinked, the sting of saltwater in my eyes. I was staring at Bellas gloved hand, making the aggressive downward gesture. She was demanding we descend to the hundred-meter drop-off.

This time, I didn't reach out to grab their harnesses. I didn't shake my head. Instead, I lifted my right hand and slowly, deliberately, gave them a thumbs-up.

My boyfriends doe-eyed sidekick smirked through her mask. She thought I was finally giving in. She thought I was calling her brave.

But they clearly hadn't paid attention in my class.

In scuba diving, a thumbs-up doesn't mean good job. It means danger. Terminate the dive. I am going up.

"Harper, are you seriously this much of a sore loser?"

Bellas taunting voice crackled through the bone-conduction earpiece strapped to my head. "I already told Carter that if we nail this deep dive, our livestream will hit the number one trending spot. Why are you always trying to ruin my moment?"

The frigid currents of the Atlantic wrapped around me, but it was nothing compared to the ice in my veins.

Hovering just a few feet away, Carter was impatiently adjusting his full-face mask. His eyeseyes I had loved for four yearswere narrowed in profound disgust.

"Harper, drop the overbearing instructor act," Carters voice buzzed in my ear. "Bella wants to see the bottom of the Snare, so Im taking her. If youre that terrified, go back up to the boat and wait."

I knew this exact moment. I had lived it.

In my past life, hovering at this exact depth, at this notoriously lethal dive site, I had practically begged them to stop. I had explained, my voice cracking with panic, that the cavern floor was untouched, unstable silt. One wrong fin kick would cause a complete white-out. Visibility would drop to zero in seconds.

And what had happened?

Carter forced the descent. Bella, with her abysmal buoyancy control, crashed into the bottom. The mud swallowed her fins, and in her sheer panic, she kicked up a blinding storm of sediment.

Blinded and terrified, she had lunged for me, wrapping her arms around my legs like a vice.

And Carterthe man who kissed my forehead every morninghad violently kicked my primary regulator right out of my mouth to give Bella leverage. He shoved his hand into my shoulder, pushing me deeper into the mud so his fragile best friend could push off my chest and escape.

I remembered the excruciating burn of my lungs expanding, the thick, metallic taste of the mud flooding my airway. I remembered the agonizing, desperate thrashing that slowly faded into a cold, paralyzing numbness.

In the final seconds before my brain went dark, I saw them. Through the murky water, they were clinging to each other.

Carters voice had drifted down to me, distorted but unmistakable: "That was too close. God, Bella, I realized it down here you're the only one who matters to me."

"Thank you, Harper," he had added, an afterthought to a corpse. "We'll tell our kids how you sacrificed yourself for her."

The phantom pain of drowning violently seized my throat. I was back. The universe had rewound the tape.

I forced myself to exhale a long, steady stream of bubbles, bringing my heart rate down to avoid CO2 retention.

I looked at Carter as he aggressively signaled Descent again.

I didn't thrash. I didn't scream into the comms. I didn't fight like a madwoman to shut off their tank valves like I had wanted to the first time.

I adjusted my BCD, finding perfect, weightless neutral buoyancy.

Then, making sure the underwater drone's camera was capturing my every move, I raised my right hand.

I gave them a textbook, flawless thumbs-up.

Dive over. Ascending.

It was a tragic comedy, really. During the two-hour safety briefing they had completely ignored, I had drilled the hand signals into them. But Bella was too busy rolling her eyes, cutting me off with a huff. "God, Harper, we get it. We've dove in Cabo before. Stop acting like we're idiots." And Carter had just stroked her hair, indulging her bratty behavior while I stood there, humiliated.

Now, seeing my thumb raised, Carter paused. A flicker of smug satisfaction crossed his eyes. He actually thought I was praising them. He thought he had finally broken my boundaries and taught me to be the submissive girlfriend.

Bella actually blew me a kiss through the water. She linked her arm through Carters, and together, like two lovesick fools, they kicked their way down into the very darkness that had once been my grave.

I watched their dive lights fade into faint, glowing halos.

Then, I turned my back to the abyss. I checked my dive computer, vented a burst of air from my wing, and began my slow, mandatory safety ascent.

You cant save people who are hell-bent on destroying themselves.

Since they were so desperate for a romantic adventure, I wished them well. I hoped theyd stay together in that mud. Forever.

When I broke the surface, the glaring afternoon sun made me squint.

The safety diver on the charter boat leaned over the railing, his face pale. "Harper? Where are Carter and Bella? Why are you alone?"

I spit out my mouthpiece and methodically unclipped my heavy harness. I let a perfectly measured look of bitter exhaustion wash over my face.

"They thought I was holding them back," I said, my voice intentionally trembling. "They insisted on pushing past the recreational limits into the deep fissure. I couldn't physically stop them. I came up so I wouldn't cause a panic at depth."

The crew exchanged horrified looks. Behind them, a laptop screen showed Carters livestream chat absolutely exploding.

[What kind of instructor abandons her students?]

[Shut up, you idiot. Carter signed a death-wish waiver. Harper is a guide, not a babysitter.]

[Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.]

I ignored the noise. I found a quiet spot on the stern and sat down, my fingers tightly gripping my GoPro housing.

Inside this little black box was the definitive proof of our parting ways.

The minutes crawled by.

Ten minutes past their scheduled surface time.

The atmosphere on the deck grew suffocating. The boat captain was incessantly checking his watch, barking into the marine radio, receiving nothing but the crackle of dead static.

Five more minutes.

Suddenly, the water fifty yards off the port bow violently boiled. A massive cluster of expanding bubbles breached the surface, followed instantly by two bodies shooting out of the water like corks.

It wasn't a controlled ascent. It was a catastrophic, uncontrolled emergency blow-up.

Carter broke the surface gasping, his mask gone, his face twisted in sheer agony. Blood was pouring from his nose and mouththe undeniable, horrifying signs of pulmonary barotrauma and severe decompression sickness.

He was dragging Bella by her buoyancy vest. She was completely limp.

"Help! Help her!" Carter shrieked, his voice shredded and wet.

The crew scrambled, throwing life rings and hauling the two of them onto the dive platform.

Bellas face was the color of ash. Her legs dragged behind her at a sickening, unnatural angle.

The second Carter hit the deck, he didn't even bother wiping the blood from his chin. His bloodshot eyes locked onto me, burning with a rabid, animalistic hatred.

He lunged.

"Harper! You sick bitch!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "You turned off our reserve valves! You tried to murder Bella!"

The entire boat froze. The crew from neighboring dive boats turned their heads. The guy running Carters livestream practically shoved the camera into my face, sensing the viral drama.

Carter swung a heavy, desperate fist at my head.

I was ready. I simply took a half-step to the right.

Severely disoriented by the nitrogen bubbles expanding in his brain, Carters equilibrium was shot. He missed entirely, his momentum carrying him forward until he face-planted onto the hard fiberglass deck with a sickening crunch.

"Aargh!" He wailed, clutching his face, but immediately pointed a shaking, bloody finger at me.

"You all saw her! She left us! She was jealous of Bella and sabotaged our gear in the cave!" he sobbed for the camera. "Im sending you to prison, Harper! Ill make you pay for this!"

It was just the three of us down there. I was the one who came up early. In a culture that immediately sympathizes with the bleeding victim, a bloody man and a comatose woman painted a very damning picture of me.

Whispers started breaking out among the onlookers.

"Jesus, did she really try to drown them over a guy?"

"She looks so calm. That's psycho behavior."

I didn't scream. I didn't cry defensively. I just looked down at him.

"Carter," I said, my voice carrying over the sound of the idling engines. "If youre going to accuse me of attempted murder, you need better material."

I reached down and hauled my scuba tank upright. The pressure gauge clearly showed it was nearly full. I turned the dial toward the crowd.

"I initiated my ascent less than five minutes into the dive. My dive computer" I tapped the heavy watch on my wrist "has a to-the-second GPS and depth log. It shows I never came within thirty feet of either of you after the drop-off."

I tilted my head, staring dead into his panicked eyes. "Tell me, Carter. Am I telekinetic? Did I use mind control to shut off your air from thirty feet away?"

He froze. The gears in his oxygen-deprived brain ground to a halt. He hadn't expected the cold, hard data.

But narcissists pivot quickly.

"Then you left us to die!" he howled, changing his tune instantly. "Youre a certified instructor! It was your job to protect us! You knew that cave was a death trap and you didn't force us back! You wanted us dead!"

The absolute audacity of it almost made me laugh.

In my past life, I tried to force them back, and they murdered me for it. In this life, I respected their autonomy, and now I was a negligent monster.

"Are you a toddler, Carter?" I asked, my voice dropping to a low, lethal register.

"I warned you three times during the briefing that the cavern was unstable. You laughed, signed the liability waivers, and demanded to go. Down there, you gave me the middle finger and told me to get lost."

I stepped closer, looming over him. "And now that you face the consequences of your own arrogance, you want to blame me? Im a dive guide, Carter. Im not your mother."

The rhythmic, deafening thwack of a Coast Guard medevac helicopter drowned out whatever excuse he was about to vomit.

Paramedics rushed the deck with stretchers.

As they strapped Bella in, I saw her eyelashes flutter. She wasn't entirely unconscious. She was playing possum. Smart girl. Easier to play the tragic, helpless victim when you don't have to answer questions.

Before Carter was hoisted up, he grabbed the paramedics collar, screaming toward the livestream phone still recording him.

"I'm suing her! I'm destroying her! Everyone watching, you are my witnesses! Harper did this to us!"

The chat was a blur of absolute chaos. The hashtag #KillerDiveInstructor was already trending on Twitter.

I watched the helicopter bank away toward the mainland, a cold smile pulling at the corner of my mouth.

Scream louder, Carter. Go viral.

Because the higher the pedestal of public pity you build for yourself, the harder the fall is going to shatter you.

The hospital waiting room was a circus.

Carters parents and Bellas mother were practically staging a protest outside the ICU. The moment Bellas mother saw me step off the elevator, she shrieked and lunged for my throat.

"You murderer! You ruined my baby's life!"

A police officer stepped between us, shoving her back. "Ma'am, step back! This is a hospital, contain yourself!"

I calmly smoothed the collar of my jacket, completely unfazed by the hysterics.

"Officer," I said smoothly. "Im here to give my official statement. And to hand over my evidence."

Inside the hospital room, Carter was propped up in bed, holding his phone out, weeping for an audience of three million live viewers.

Bella was awake in the bed next to his. The bends had severely damaged her spinal cord, leaving her paralyzed from the waist down. She was clinging to Carters arm, sobbing pitifully.

When Carter saw me walk in, his face twisted into an ugly snarl.

"You have a lot of nerve showing your face here, Harper!" he spat. "Im going to make sure you rot in a cell! Ill take everything you own!"

The livestream chat was moving so fast it was unreadable, mostly a blur of death threats directed at me.

The detective frowned, gesturing for Carter to put the phone away. "Mr. Starling, Ms. Harper claims to have video evidence of the dive. We are going to review it."

Carter scoffed, a sickeningly confident smirk on his face. "Video? Perfect. Show the world exactly how you swam away and left us to die in the dark."

He thought my GoPro only caught the moment I turned around. He thought the narrative was locked: I abandoned them, therefore I was morally bankrupt and legally liable for a massive payout.

I didn't say a word. I just walked over to the smart TV mounted on the wall and plugged my camera in.

The screen flickered, and suddenly, the room was filled with the crystal-clear 4K footage of the deep, suffocating blue.

The video showed Carter and Bella flipping me off. It showed them aggressively swimming deeper. It showed me giving the thumbs-up and turning away.

"See?!" Carter yelled triumphantly at the phone in his hand. "Look at her! She just leaves! She didn't even try!"

But the video didn't stop.

And neither did the audio.

My GoPro was top-of-the-line. It was linked to our shared bone-conduction comms frequency. Even though I was swimming away, the receiver was still picking up their private channel perfectly.

From the TV speakers, Carters voice echoed through the dead-silent hospital room.

"Forget the bitch, Bella," his recorded voice panted, thick with adrenaline. "I took out a two-million-dollar accidental injury policy for this trip. All we have to do is get a little banged up down here. Make it look like an equipment failure..."

"Once the payout hits, we leave her in the dust and move to the Maldives."

The silence in the hospital room was so absolute you could hear the hum of the fluorescent lights.

Carters face drained of all color. The phone slipped from his sweaty hand and clattered to the linoleum floor.

But the recording wasn't done.

The audio erupted into a horrifying cacophony of thrashing water and Bellas muffled screams.

"Carter! My leg! I'm stuck in the mud! Help me!"

Then came Carters frantic, hyperventilating voice. "Damn it! The silt is everywhere! I can't see!"

"Stop grabbing me, Bella! Let go! I'm out of air!"

The sound of their violent underwater struggle was nauseating.

And then came the sentence that shattered the room.

"I'm sorry, Bells. But it's better one of us lives than both of us die."

"Your legs are crushed anyway. Give me the air!"

Hisssssss.

The unmistakable, violent sound of a regulator being ripped from a mouth. Followed by the wet, choking gurgle of Bella inhaling mud, and the greedy, desperate sound of Carter sucking down her remaining oxygen.

I stood next to the TV, looking down at Carters paralyzed, ghost-white face. I slowly reached out and pressed pause.

"Tell me, Carter," I whispered into the deafening silence. "Is that what you call abandonment?"

"Because the penal code calls that attempted murder."