Rose felt her insides tearing at her to run as she boarded the 'Ship of Dreams.' She didn't wish to be here, any more than she wished to be anywhere else as a matter of fact. The title Dewitt Bukater had ensured that she'd had a luxurious, well-educated life, and yet in her heart of hearts she knew that it just hadn't been enough. It hadn't been what she'd wanted. Rose was a fiery creature, and every single day she spent with the likes of her mother and Cal, that fire grew evermore dimmer.
"Rose, what are you looking so melancholy about? Look at this ship! The greatest by far on Earth; and our staying rooms are most certainly decked out for royalty." Cal lectured in his slick speech, pausing to lower his voice so only she could hear; "It is everything you need and want."
Rose despised when he did this. He knew; she was absolutely certain of it, that this life was definitely not what she needed and wanted. Cal was testing her, like he always did.
"Yes, well, it doesn't look any bigger than the Mauritania." Rose chastised, purely to change the subject. She hated herself for sounding so upper-class.
Cal scoffed. "You can be blasé about some things, Rose, but not about the Titanic! It's over a hundred feet longer than the Mauritania and far more luxurious."
Rose quietened. She wasn't in the correct mind, or of the desirable gender, to start an argument with Cal. Titanic was grander, it was true, and yet to Rose it merely looked like a slave ship, mocking her openly whilst it waited to take her back to America in chains.
Rose walked at a slow pace as she boarded the ship, arranging her posture into an erect gracefulness that she'd been taught as soon as she could totter two steps. She fell shortly behind her mother, who was wearing one of her finest dresses. A floor length red and burgundy gown with shimmering stones, and of course, a matching headdress. Rose was careful not to step on the hem of her mother's gown as she continued on. After all, they wouldn't be affording any new ones until Rose herself had secured the family name and fortune with the act of marrying Cal. The thought of it made her insides scream in protest.
A short time afterwards, Titanic was setting sail. Rose was sat in her bland, colourless parlour as she heard the joyous sounds of the lower class yelling on deck. It was likely that the majority of them had never been on a ship before, let alone a ship as glorious as the Titanic. Rose wished she could rip the brass clips from her hair and join them, letting the cool wind unwind her curls. The only thing that prevented her from doing such a thing was her chains; her chains to Cal and the pressure of her mother's wishes and the inability, as a dependent woman, to free her-self. She longed to set out for the horizon whenever she felt like it, and the dreadful knowledge that she couldn't weighed upon her more than anything else.
The bells announcing lunch for the upper-class had rung over forty minutes ago, and the group had just reached their ostentatious table. It included Margaret Brown, also known as Molly, who was what Rose's mother so pretentiously referred to as 'New Money'. She hadn't been born into a good family's name, like the rest of the group, and in Rose's mother's eyes that made her far less important and frankly, not worth acknowledging. Cal, her mother and the Countess were also there, Rose noticed with distaste. Last but most certainly not least, the table also included the Irish man named Thomas Andrews, the builder of the ship, as well as Bruce Ismay, the man behind the idea. This made Rose's group the most important in the lunching room, and they were well extremely aware of it, as were the servers. Rose observed them bustling around to make sure everything was deemed perfect before they even thought about approaching the group.
"Rose, you know I don't like that." Rose winced as her mother's stern look reached her. She was seventeen years old; and still being treated as though she was filled with idiocy. Rose had had enough. She directed her face toward her mother's and calmly exhaled from the cigarette she'd been smoking.
Rose felt the brief satisfaction of seeing her mother's face twist in shock before Cal ruined it all. Reaching a pale, possessive hand over, he quickly removed the cigarette from its holder.
"She knows." His voice infiltrated, and it dawned on Rose what the rest of her life would be like. It was already set in stone, a never-ending stream of parties and dinners, being paraded around on Cal's arm like a trophy. She felt nauseous.
"We'll both have the lamb." Cal told the waiter who had just approached their anything-but-raucous table. "You do like lamb, don't you chickpea?" He turned to Rose.
As if it would matter whether she liked it or not, Cal spoke for her. Rose directed a sarcastic smile in his direction, which if he noticed, he simply ignored.
"You going to cut her meat for her too, Cal?" Margaret 'Molly' Brown laughed from across the table. Rose shot her a sincere, thankful smile. Here was a woman who understood.
Rose was furious. Anger and depression ebbed away at any source of self-control she might have had left. She heard Bruce Ismay and Thomas Andrews discussing the size of the Titanic, and interrupted before she could stop herself.
"Do you know of Dr Freud, Mr Ismay? His ideas about the male preoccupation with size may be of some interest to you." Rose resisted the urge to laugh at her own brazenness, failing to recognise the serious consequences of her statement.
An appreciative laugh came from the more so relaxed of the group, Molly Brown and Thomas Andrews included. Rose's mother looked on in undeniable, absolute fury.
"What has gotten into you?" She whispered sternly.
After some time, the strenuous effort of keeping conversation with her dismal group took its toll on Rose. She excused herself briskly and strolled out on deck for a breath of fresh air. Not many people could withstand their own company, but Rose was pleased to be one who could. She loved to be alone with her own thoughts, even if they did consume her. Being alone was better than being forced with the company of those she disliked.
As she thought, Rose felt eyes upon her. She didn't know how she knew, but she could feel the pull of them attracting her. It didn't take long to locate the source, a boy of maybe eighteen or nineteen was sat just below on the steerage deck, simply watching her. Rose felt herself redden at the amazement in his face, and forced herself to quickly return her gaze to the ocean ahead of her.
As though he were a magnet, Rose felt her gaze being drawn to him once more. He was still transfixed at the mere sight of her, so transfixed that he failed to notice one of the men around him wave an arm across his face. His gaze didn't even falter.
The boy was very handsome, for his age. He appeared to be older than Rose herself, but not with as old as Cal. This boy had glorious blonde hair, a soft, smooth face with no lines or creases of hardness. His face and stance were free, open to the world around him. Right now they were open to her. He was nothing but the exact opposite of her fiancée.
As though he'd been summoned, Cal appeared at her arm in the next instant, attempting to escort her back inside. Rose shook of his touch and stormed ahead of him, anything to be rid of his presence.
"Rose!" She heard him call behind her, but blanked him completely. Rose paused at the stairway to the lower deck, where the boy sat, still observing the scene above him with a strange look on his face. Was it pity, or understanding?
She let herself look upon the boy for one last second before she sauntered back into the dining room. Her group were still sat in the exact same positions when she re-entered, not even acknowledging her presence returning. She returned to her seat at the table and sat motionless, clad in her tight corset and bright yellow dress that Cal had told her to wear, with the ghost of alienation and loneliness in her eyes. On the outside, Rose was everything a well brought up girl should be; she was polite, endearing and well-spoken, most of the time. On the inside, she was screaming, and she resolved to end it that night.