The pain was bottled up inside her, dying to get out. But Rose knew that if she started crying, she wouldn't be able to stop. As the Statue of Liberty came into view, she was filled with terror. This was the real world! And she was being thrown into it without a home or money or a friend to her name. I'm on my own! I can't do this! She thought. The lump in her throat was big and hard and wouldn't go away.
"Why did you leave me, Jack?" she whispered angrily. "How could you do this to me?" Inside, Rose was suffering horribly. She could now make out the exaggerated features of the statue and she wished so much that this ship would sink, too. So she could die in the same ocean as Jack. Her Jack. "Oh, God!" She cried, "No!" Impulsively, she released her grip upon the blanket around her shoulders and let it fall to the ground as she ran in the rain to the side of the ship.
"Jesus!" someone cried, "That lass is going to jump!" Rose was over the rail and about to let go when a gentle hand seized her wrist and pulled her back. Jack? She turned around upon feeling the familiar touch, so much like Jack's. But the man she saw with cropped black hair, a large nose, and scary eyes was not the man she loved so much. She pulled away in fear, but he held her back. Two more men helped force a struggling Rose over the rail as a crowed formed around them. They dragged her over, as she kicked and screamed like a spoiled child.
Someone held her firmly while she realized how stupid she was acting. Jack DIED for you, you idiot! In spite of everything, she wanted nothing more than to die as well and be with him. All she wanted was to see his face. If only she had just jumped that first time. Then she never would have had to deal with this horrible pain. She remembered it so vividly. Jack saved her from dying alone in that horrific ocean. That same ocean that took his life. She imagined him down there right now. Just lying amongst the debris and bodies. He would still have those hand cuffs around his wrist. His hair would be floating around him. Not over his eyes like usual. Rose knew nothing of marine life, but she hoped that whatever animals that lived down there would not disturb him. He deserved a proper burial, she thought.
The mood seemed a bit lighter when they finally docked. Rose, however, felt a familiar uneasiness in her gut got sick all over herself. She was just thankful that there had been a blanket sheltering her when it happened. "Honestly!" Cried the woman who covered her in a fresh blanket, "More than a week at her Rose and she just knew she would end up dying alone on the streets. It began to rain harder and the tiny cold drops beat down upon her head like weights.
And what about Ruth and Cal? What of them? Would they find her? If they did, Cal would force her to go back to him and Ruth would go along with it. They had been through a lot, but they were still the same selfish people, and that much had not changed.
The Carpathia was stopping and the Statue of Liberty was in plain view. Rose stood up and walked as close to it as she could without making people think she was going to jump again. As stared transfixed at the statue, she thought of freedom that she now had. As she thought of freedom, she though of a conversation she'd once had with her father.
"I hate going away to boarding school!" cried an 11 year old Rose. "Father, they are so strict there! Everything I do—sit or stand, eat or drink, play or read, talk or be silent—I must do it perfectly! Please don't make me go back there!"
"My Rose," comforted her father, "It is where your mother wants you to go. And…do you honestly want to be stuck at home with her?"
Rose laughed. "No. But…Father, I have no freedom there. It's so unfair!"
"Ah, freedom." he said, "That word. What an interesting word. Rose, you have to remember. If you're never tied to anything, you'll never be free."
Rose had never fully understood what those words meant until now. Was she now free? Was this freedom? Because if this was what she had wished for all her life, then she didn't want it anymore. To her, this newfound freedom was her being tied down by sorrow like weights.
"May I take your name please, love," An officer was now standing next to her holding a clip board.
All of her memories with Jack flashed through her mind and she knew what she had to do. "Dawson," she said, turning to him, "Rose Dawson."
Her legs felt weak as she stepped off the Carpathia. The bridge between the ship and the dock seemed more like a plank. The flashes of cameras and screaming reporters and waving family members made her dizzy. People kept asking her if she had been on the Titanic. She hadn't realized it was such a big deal until they bombarded her with questions and cameras. So she found it was easiest just to say no. Every moment in the smell, noisy crowd seemed like an eternity and she just wanted to get away. A lonely bench opposite the docks caught her eye and she elbowed her way out of the muddle. The bench seemed a mile away and she sighed with relief when she finally sat down. Exhaustion finally overcame Rose and she fell asleep.
When she woke it was dark. Everyone was gone; the reporters, the survivors, their families…everybody. And Rose was alone. Again. She was scared and cold. She got up but her legs wouldn't support her so she had to sit back down until she couldn't tolerate it anymore. She stood again and walked. She didn't know where she was going. She didn't know how she'd get there. She just kept walking. There were hardly any stars visible. The city was bright and the moon was full. How could she live in a city with no stars?
The sun peaked over the horizon and Rose found herself on the streets of New York. A cold drop upon her head, then another. It was beginning to rain, and not too keen on getting soaked again, Rose ran into the nearest building—the train station. She looked around at the hustle and bustle of people. There were people getting off trains, and people getting on. Everyone had somewhere to go; had a destination. Everyone, that is, but her.
The rain was letting up and Rose felt unbearably hungry. She strode outside. A plain horse drawn carriage came clanking up and stopped beside her. "Hey there," said they young man driving it. "You need a ride?"
"I don't need your charity," she snapped.
"You look like hell!"
"Thanks. I appreciate that."
"No…not that…but I mean, you look like you haven't slept a wink in days!"
"Huh," Rose was unable to control her sarcastic nature, "how about that."
"You live here?"
Rose started walking again and the driver had his horse trot beside her. "Where?" she asked stupidly.
"Well, here. In the city."
"Oh. Yes. Well…no. I haven't a home."
"Look, Miss…"
"Dawson."
"Look, Miss Dawson. Let me at least give you a ride to a hotel."
"Can't" she said, not caring if he knew, "Don't have enough money."
"Well damn. That can't be good. Well can I take you somewhere? So you're not just wondering around in the cold?"
"I don't have much cash. I can't afford to pay you."
"Don't worry about it," he told her.
"Well then," she said, opening the carriage door herself, "take me to a church. A nice church."
"Right away," he said, and Rose could feel the vibration of the cart moving over cobbles. A couple of times, the driver tried to instigate a conversation, but Rose wasn't in the mood to talk, and would allude it. She just stared sadly out the window and watched the rows of buildings flash before her eyes. It dawned on her that this was the first actual chat she'd had in over a week. It didn't seem real. None of it. The sinking, the dying, the tears, the sorrow, and the fact that she had just done something completely normal.
The cart stopped in front of a tall stone building with a steeple. "Here you are," he said. "I used to come hear when I was a kid."
"Thank you," Rose said quietly, and got out.
"I'm David, by the way. And I didn't catch you're first name."
"Eh, maybe I'll tell you next time you give me a free ride."
"That'll do," and he rode away. Rose stared up at the church. She didn't go in. She didn't want to. But she figured that the people who went to church were good, and might be nicer to her. She wanted to buy some food, but she only had about 10 dollars of Cal's money in her coat pocket, and she had to use it sparingly. So she just stood there in front of the church until the sun went down.
Tired and not knowing where to go and what to do, she found a plain looking town house by the church and sat herself down upon it's stoop. Minutes passed, and the door opened a crack. Rose waited to see if she would be shoed away. But instead, an old looking gnarled hand came out, holding a small loaf of bread.
"Thank you," Rose said, taking it. Then the person snatched her hand back inside. Rose chewed on the bread, and decided only to eat half. Just as she was tucking the remaining half into her coat, she noticed a little girl, dressed in rags and presumably homeless, standing about 10 feet in front of her. She was thoughtfully eyeing the bread and licking her lips in anticipation. Without thinking, Rose turned her back on the small child until it had walked away. Then she checked to make sure Cal's money and the diamond she had found in her pocket earlier were still there, and fell guiltily asleep.
Rose woke cramped from lying on the hard stone stoop and felt even hungrier than before. She took out her other half of bread and was about to dig in when she remembered the little beggar child. Rose felt sick and couldn't eat, so she stood and started walking around the block, looking for the little girl. More than an hour passed of Rose walking up and down blocks. The sick and the poor were all around her, and she finally gave up her search and gave the bread to an old blind man. Was this what the rest of her life would be like from now on? Eating only enough to stay alive? Guilt and sorrow ripping her apart? Days spent wandering around aimlessly and nights sleeping on the ground?
Finally, she went back to the set of stairs and rested. She watched the clouds in the sky and was startled when she looked in front of her and saw in old man staring right into her eyes. He had little hair, and it was all stringy and white. His eyes were cloudy, but shaped like those of a hawk. Then he smiled at her, revealing his almost toothless mouth. He wore plain clothes. "Hello, you," said the man. Rose tried not to be afraid as the scary looking man came closer. "Why, a pretty little thing like you should not be dressed in such rags. I know of a pretty dress you could wear. Come home with me and it's yours." He reached out his bony hand, crippled from disease, and Rose shrunk away into to corner of the doorway. She had heard about men like this. Men who kidnapped vulnerable young women and forced themselves upon them. Panicked, she reached her hand up and jiggled the doorknob behind her. Locked.
"Help me!" she screamed. "Help!" But it was midday and everyone was at work. This lonely street was bare. He moved nearer and tried to grab her, but she pulled back her arm, then forced her fist hard into his face, punching him. He fingered his jaw and wiped the blood away from his lower lip.
"Why, you!" He seized her by her arms and shook her roughly.
"Let go!" she screeched, "Let go of me!" She fought against him, but it was no use. She was anemic and fatigued and hadn't the strength. It dawned on her that she could show off her new talent, and she hawked back a glob of mucus and whoosh! spit in his face. He pulled his hands back and wiped away the glob, giving Rose ample opportunity to run away.
She didn't know how fast she could run, so she hurried into the nearest building—the church. She could find sanctuary there if no where else. She couldn't bring herself to sit down or pray. She just waited in the lobby until she was sure he was gone. She couldn't face God. Not yet anyway. But when she sauntered back outside and the rain started once more, she knew she was at last ready to deal with Jack's death. Kneeling on the ground in front of her, Rose finally gave herself over to her grief and burst into heart wrenching sobs.