A/N: Sorry! I was with family… It's usually every Saturday/Friday afternoon… Just so you know! :D Ooh Big Fan! I can sing the Titanic theme fluently in three languages (English, obviously, French and Italian) but in NO WAY can I speak the last two languages fluently! I'm French Canadian, and Part Italian, Part Irish, etc. So if you need help pronouncing the words, just ask! I can sing them fluently and I can write the lyrics… But once you know them, it tends to stay in your head… FOREVER! Lol!
Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN TITANIC!
She had caught me halfway off the property. "Abigail Rose Dawson!" my mother hissed. She held my arms behind my back, and I struggled to get free. "Mom! Let me g—I can't tell you!" I said. I was free of her grasp. "It's nowhere bad! I just can't tell you—yet!" I said. She made a grab for my arm again, but she had just missed and I took off at my fastest.
My wrist was throbbing but I had to keep running. She wasn't chasing me though… That was good right? I skidded to a halt and turned to look at her. Was she… was she crying? I walked back up to her… She was crying. I felt like a horrible person suddenly… "M-mom?" I asked. "Go ahead, Abbey," she said weakly. Oh god. She really was crying…
I knew why. She'd lost Dad… I was all she had left of him… It made me want to tell her about Dad so much more. But I had to wait… I wanted it to be the best thing ever. I wanted it to be when she was at her happiest… I had to get her happy… But how? "Mom… I'm not going anywhere! You know I always come back! Please… Just let me go back out… I have to be with a friend," I said. My mother squeezed the life out of me… As though I'd never come back. "Mom, don't do that! Don't say goodbye yet! I'm still here and I always will be," I said. She only seemed to cry harder… What? Did I say something?
"Go on, Abbey… Dinner's at seven," she said, wiping her tear-struck cheeks. I pet her shoulder lightly un comfort, kissed her cheek and began walking down the street. I wanted to see Dad. I just wanted to talk. No questions—from me about him… yet.
I tapped on the door lightly. I felt the urge to cry. It was a strong urge too dammit. I held the tears though. I knocked again… He didn't answer. I sat down on the front step… Freaking snow was leaking through my jeans though. But the numb feeling it was giving me felt somewhat comforting, until it began stabbing me. I jumped up. My jeans were soaked… No one was answering… And now I felt my legs give out. My jeans were so cold, I felt like yelling at the pain I was receiving.
I knocked on the door again. Maybe he just didn't hear me before? I wasn't knocking, really. I was desperately pounding on the wood. "Dad! Dad! Open the door!" I called. No one answered. I stopped knocking, and sat down again. My legs had gone numb again to the point where I couldn't stand. I felt my eyes get heavy. I wasn't tired… Was I? No…
My eyes kept trying to close, but I wouldn't have it. My breathing was slowing, and suddenly my whole body refused to move. My fingers, although I couldn't feel them, were twitching, desperate to grab something. I couldn't move though. My tears that I had finally allowed to fall, had frozen… Stuck to my skin and it hurt. Was this what truly cold felt like? I couldn't think… The only thing in my head was "Some help me!" but there was no one. The last part of me to go numb, was my face. I tried to call for someone… Like my father, but my voice came out scratchy, and I was stumbling over my words and repeating the first letter of everything I said. I was terrified now.. But that was a lie. I was more than terrified.
The street was strangely vacant for this time of day. What time was it? It felt like years. My body just couldn't die quick enough. Just to end this. It was taking forever for death to consume. I saw lights spin around me from surrounding homes. But no one would notice me… Not until the next morning.
"Holy shit," I heard. That was the only thing I heard… Everything was slowly fading away. Sound, sight, smell, feeling, taste… I could only taste the smell of ice… before everything faded.
Crack. Crack. Snap!
W-what the hell? I thought. Was that a fireplace? Heaven had fireplaces? Ow, shit! My body was numb… It was still in pain—wait! I was alive? Had dad taken me inside? This wasn't his living room though. I had no idea where I was. "Oh, thank Lord you're awake!" said a voice. It was the voice of a woman. It wasn't mother. I looked around. I was bundled in what had to seventy wool blankets. Who had that many blankets?
"W-w-whe-re a-am I?" I choked. The woman, moved the blanket from my face. She wore her curly hair red-brown hair up in a First Class way. "You're inside my house… What were you doing outside?" the woman asked. "I-I wa-as look-king f-f-for my f-f-father," I said, shivering. The woman sat down across from me. "Tea?" she asked. "N-n-no, th-thanks," I said. "Wh-who a-are you?" I asked. "The name is Molly," she said, taking a sip from her tea cup. "Molly Brown," she smiled, setting the cup on the table next to her. She sounded familiar. "And Jack doesn't have any children… Hasn't had a woman since 1912," she said, laughing slightly. "Oh… right… I m-must b-be th-thinking uncl-learly," I said. "D-do y-you know-ow w-where he w-went?" I asked. Molly shook her head. "Th-thank y-you," I said. "Do you want another blanket, darling?" she asked. I shook my head. Her couch was absolutely comfortable. "W-were you th-the one wh-who found m-me?" I asked, choking back the urge to cough. "No, my husband did," she said. I nodded, but it was only a jerk.
My body was still freezing, but it was gradually going up, my body temperature. "Shit!" I whispered. Molly heard me anyway, but she didn't take it offensively. "Something wrong?" she asked. The woman had I heart. She really did. She, in my opinion, was too vulgar and un-First Class—in a good way—to be First Class. New Money? Mother said that's what her mother would call this one woman. "My mother was expecting me home! Like—what time is it?" I asked. I was surprised I didn't stumble.
I tried to free myself of the blankets. I was beginning to actually sweat. I couldn't free myself so Molly helped me remove some then said, "It's six thirty." I sighed in relief. "Am I able to leave?" I asked as politely as possible. I was relieved I wasn't stumbling anymore. I must've been out for a while…
"I should take you home," Molly said. "No… I think I can wa—," "Hon. I just got you to wake up. If you go back out there, you'll fall ill again," she said thoughtfully. She was right. "Can I walk home? With my clothes on under the blankets?" I asked. I made to remove the blanket, but Molly said, "Hon. I had to hang your clothes up to dry." I looked under the blanket and almost passed out. I had no clothes on! "Please tell me you undressed me," I said, shaking, now. I was embarrassed, not cold. "Yes, sweety. But I think your clothes are dry. Wait here on moment," she said, leaving the room.
I shivered, embarrassed by the idea a complete stranger saw me naked, while I was barely alive. But I was grateful. I was alive. I felt as though I owed this woman my life. I felt exposed in a way though, even with the thick blankets on. Molly returned with my clothes. "They're drier than the Sahara!" she laughed. "The bedroom is down the hallway to the left, last door. My husband's out with some friends so you'll be fine, sweety," she said. I loved this woman instantly. She was so nice and helpful. I walked to my destination.
Once in her room, I locked the door. Just in case. She had a gorgeous room! The bed was larger than my bedroom at home. The dresser was on the left side of the room, mahogany wood… Nice. On the right side of the room were two closets, currently open. They were both very organized. The mirror sat on the wall, across from the bed. The sheets were a pristine white with gold threads hanging off the edges of the blanket. The pillow cases were just like the sheets. A chandelier finished the room, just above the bed.
Damn I wish I had this room! My room was nothing like this! Then again, we hadn't changed it since I was six. I dissed the blankets and quickly threw on my clothes. They were so warm. Warm felt so unknown to me… It was like a stranger I'd longed to meet. I slipped on two of the five blankets Molly had left on me. I carried them under my arm and walked back into Molly's living room.
"Thank you, Molly… I'm gonna head home," I said. Molly followed me outside, and watched me until I had made it out of sight. I didn't feel cold. I promised her I'd return the three blankets she'd made me where the next time I was around. It had to be passed seven. If Mom wasn't crying, she wasn't happy. I had disobeyed again. Not that I had a choice, but how could I tell her that I'd almost died? I guess she needed some truth… But how could I tell her?
The thought, "Hey Mom! Sorry I missed dinner! I almost died, some lady Molly Brown took me for a little while until I was okay… Nothing major…. Just mild Hypothermia! 'Kay! Going to be now! Night!" didn't sound like a very safe explanation.
I walked up the front stairs, and walked into the house. My mother was sitting at the table, drinking tea. She had that look the last time I'd come home late. She stared at the table without looking at one square inch of it.
"You said you'd be home, Abbey!" she said. Her voice was hoarse. She'd been crying alright. "I don't know how to begin explaining… I was at my friend's house… I knocked hoping someone would answer. No one did. I tried again, still nothing. I thought I'd sit down and wait. After a while, I began going n—," I stopped myself. I began crying. I didn't like crying. I couldn't stop though. How did anyone—let alone a fourteen-year-old girl—tell their mother they almost died? "numb. After a while of going numb, I fell over… In the snow," I said. I was sobbing horribly now and my voice was near non-understandable. "I f-f-felt my e-eyes trying t-to close, b-but I j-just wouldn't let them! B-b-but soon I couldn't think of anything but how painfully numb I felt… Th-then ever-rything—I thought I'd d-died!" I sobbed. My mother looked at me, terrified.
She knew I never broke down unless truly scared or hurt, and I was glad she wasn't yelling. She could see I was telling the truth. "Th-then this woman, her husband, t-took me t-to his w-wife and sh-she helped m-me!" I said. I felt like falling to my knees and curling up to cry. Forever.
"H-h-her n-name was… was M-Molly Brown," I said. My mother's head whipped up. She was no longer staring at the wood patterns crying. She was in front of me now, holding my shoulders in a hug. "Molly Brown?" she asked, whispering into my ear. I nodded, wiping my eyes. It felt good to cry. I hated crying, but this was the best I'd felt in a long time.
"That was the woman my mother would call 'New Money'," my mother said, laughing. She hadn't yet released me. "Well, her husband took my inside their home and she helped me… She said to visit whenever… I need to return the blankets to her anyway," I said, gesturing to the wool around my body. "Do you want dinner?" my mother asked, rubbing my arms through the blankets to warm me up some more.
"Not really… I think I'll just go to bed," I said. My mother nodded. I was warm enough now where falling asleep couldn't harm me.
I dragged myself down the hallway into my room and collapsed on my bed. I sighed. I was alive… Mom wasn't mad…
Where was Dad today? That was all I was curious about currently. I wasn't curious about the miracle that had just taken place not long ago…
I closed my eyes and left peaceful sleep consume me. I was going to take Mom to visit Molly tomorrow. Mom sounded excited I'd run into Molly. She'd like that… She'd be happy for once. Truly happy.
I awoke the next morning. The sunlight came through the window, just missing my eyes. I stretched, my body still slightly painful from numbness I had felt. My mother came in, setting a cup of tea on the nightstand and sat on the edge of my bed. "How do you feel, baby?" she asked, stroking my frizzy, curly hair out of my eyes. "Sore," I mumbled. I took the tea into my hands and sipped lightly. My mother laughed. She brushed my hair out of my face and kissed my forehead.
I closed my eyes at the contact. I felt at home with mom. Would she be in a good mood today where I could show her Dad was still alive? One could only hope! I was too eager for my own good. Overly happy only led to hopes-up. I had to play it cool… Just play it cool and it'll work. Poker Face, Abbey. Poker Face.
A/N: How's that for longer chapter? Haha! :) This wasn't the original idea… I had something else in mind… Like Jack helps her but Molly's one of my favorites so I thought I'd bring her back! So? How was it? Good. Great. Bad. HORRIBLE?
