The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 255

Splash—

Sloane plunged into the hole.

The water swallowed her instantly.

The sub-zero temperature pierced her skin like ten thousand needles striking all at once. Even through the heavy drysuit, the bone-deep chill clung to her like a living parasite, creeping past her flesh and heading straight for her heart.

In the beam of her headlamp, the surface of the water rippled and smoothed out, like a gaping wound instantly sealing shut. She glanced up, watching the halo of light on the ice above shrink and blur, like a dying star fading into the void.

Then she turned away, angling her body toward the abyss.

The beam of her headlamp sliced through the darkness like a blade.

Tiny ice crystals and dust particles drifted through the water, rolling and flashing in the light. It looked as if the deep sea were tossing handfuls of shattered stars against her visor. The silence was absolute. The howling wind and the groaning ice were gone, replaced only by the heavy rasp of her own breathing and the bubbling hiss of her regulator.

Inhale.

Exhale.

She followed the familiar path down.

This was her fourth time making this exact dive; she knew this underwater terrain better than anywhere else. As the water deepened, the pressure clamped down from all sides. She could feel the drysuit compressing against her skin, like a giant, invisible hand slowly squeezing the life out of her.

The medication was still working its magic in her lungs. She felt hyper-aware, hyper-lucid. She could feel her heart slamming wildly against her ribs—a worn-out engine burning through its last reserves of fuel without a shred of exhaustion.

She pushed deeper.

Just ahead, the beam of her light hit the edge of the rock formation.

There it was. A small patch of pale blue luminescence floating peacefully in the pitch-black water. It looked like a cluster of ancient spirits, slumbering at the bottom of a forgotten world, waiting for her arrival.

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