December 31, 1913

It had been over a year and a half since the Titanic sank and took thousands of lives away. I still thought about all those people I saw that tragic night. Jack and I sat quietly together in the living room waiting for midnight to come. Marshall was going to be a year old very soon, and I was going to publish a book I had written. The publisher wanted me to meet with a man whom was said to be a very good editor and promoter. I had to take a bus to a hotel a few hours south of Santa Monica. I was to stay there the weekend, but Jack wasn't too thrilled about the idea at all. I told him that I would be okay, and it was something I've always wanted to do.

We both fell asleep at two in the morning after making love at the stroke of midnight. Marshall's first birthday was on the third of January and I was leaving on the fifteenth of January. I would be arriving home on January 18.

January 15, 1914

I handed Marshall back to Jack before boarding the bus. The bus rode away and through my body, I felt a rush of excitement and even accomplishment, though I hadn't been published yet, I would have never gotten this far if I was staying with my mother and Cal.

We arrived around one in the afternoon in San Diego. I took a taxi to the hotel where I was meeting the man I was going to speak with about the editing. I walked up to front counter.

"Excuse me, my name is Rose Dawson and I believe there is a man expecting me," I told the clerk.

"What's the name," the clerk asked.

"Name? Well I don't know the name…"

"Mrs. Dawson, I can take you up to your room," a man behind me said picking up my bag.

I turned around to thank him, but froze from seeing the face of Mr. Lovejoy, Cal's sneaky assistant. I turned back to the clerk, not knowing what to do or say. What could I say? I think there's been a mistake? Maybe if I told him my publisher's name, he would know what room I could carry my bags myself and walk to.

"My publisher's name is Donald Wilt," I said to the clerk.

"Oh yes, Mr. Wilt is staying in room 1405, right up on the fourteenth floor," the clerk said.

"Thank you," I told the clerk as he gave me a key, and I grabbed my bag from Mr. Lovejoy and scurried off towards the elevator.

Was the really Mr. Lovejoy though? Or was I just being paranoid? I told myself to leave it alone as I walked out of the elevator and over to room 1405. I hesitated before I opened the door. It was a very nice suite. I put my bag down on the couch, and there was no sign of anyone in the room. I waited a half hour until I heard the door open, I was sitting in the bedroom. I walked out into the living room to greet the man, but was knocked so hard on my head, I was pushed back into the bedroom, and I heard the door slam. I fell onto the floor, then was turned onto my back. I opened my blurry eyes to see a very angry look on Cal's red face. I tried getting up, but he just pushed me back down and his weight was far too heavy for me to lift off. I tried screaming, but he grabbed my neck and jabbed a needle into it.

Everything went black, again.

I woke up about an hour later, still in the hotel bedroom, lying on the floor. My dress had been ripped to pieces, and my left arm had a scrap on it. My back hurt like I pulled a muscle in it. I tried to get up, but I felt helpless. No one was around, I didn't hear anyone. I was so mad at myself for getting into this situation. I was going to press charges when I got away, I knew I would, I had to have faith.

I tried reaching the phone to call someone, anyone. Just then, someone came in the hotel and I locked my body up and focused my eyes towards the bedroom door. A man I had never seen before ran to me.

"Oh my God!" he yelled. "What happened?"

He called emergency to the room, and then told me his name, James Mervin. He was the editor I was supposed to be meeting, and he had called the hotel to tell me he was going to be late, but someone had pretended to be him before, and that's why I didn't get the message. How did Cal find out where I was? Has he been spying on me this whole time?

James and a few others took me to the nearby emergency room in downtown San Diego. I asked James to call Jack for me and to tell him what happened. James told me that we could do what we were going to do another time, and that this time he would come to my house in Santa Monica. He even offered to ride on the bus home with me. We sat down in the bus a few days after the incident and I looked out my window and in the crowd of people saying goodbye, I saw Cal standing in the back glaring at me. My stomach dropped and knew that even though I was in a different chapter of my life now, it didn't mean that the next chapter wasn't going to be packed with anxiety.