Chapter 11

Jamie Anderson's POV

I concluded the narration and closed my eyes, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to return.

"'A life that she rightfully deserved?'"

"Yes. For having killed her sister."

I felt the fifth officer slide closer to me. He firmly grasped my shoulders, and quietly ordered, "Look at me, Jamie."

Note to self #79: Never disobey an officer, especially one named Harold Lowe.

My eyes obediently fluttered open to see his handsome face only a few inches away.

"None of that was your fault. Don't listen to what those mongrels have told you, because they're all bloody wrong. If anything, your only fault was having bad luck."

"Stop being so nice to a wastrel like me, sir."

"No, not until you stop condemning yourself for the wrongs of everyone else. Jamie! Do-do you know what I see in you?"

I slowly shook my head at a loss.

"I see a girl who's been cheated by society. A person who's deserved a life of happiness, but is still waiting for its arrival. I see beauty. Hope. Faithfulness. Perseverance. I see a girl who carries the pain of the world on her shoulders. I see a girl who deserves a life of love."

I stared at him in silence, a tiny smile of disbelief flooding my face.

"I believe you never allowed me to finish my story yet, Mr. Lowe. You see, as hard as life may have been for Jamie, she always carried the hope that someone would rescue her from the eternal damnation that would forever chain her down. She knew that a swashbuckling and chivalrous knight would eventually come to save her. Yes, she may have waited for a long time, but that fire inside of her never died out. Years after, when she finally found herself to have enough courage again, she broke free from the tower and its malicious dragons.

And when the monsters pursued the frightful Jamie, her savior finally arrived. He offered his hand, and that single gesture made all the difference. The knight's name was Harold Lowe. Together, they sailed away on a ship of unbelievable grandeur and disappeared into the horizon. Jamie is free. Free at last."

He burst into a wild grin, actually blushing.

"Pink is a rather lovely color. It suits you well," I laughed, indicating his flustered cheeks.

His eyes instantly lit up with a stroke of realization. In an awed tone, he whispered, "You're laughing."

Well, if I'll be damned. I was.

"I haven't laughed since...since...my goodness I can't remember."

With a playful smirk, Harold inched closer. In a graceful swoop, his fingers flew to my waist.

"What are you-"

Suddenly, here was the fifth - and who I thought to be mature- officer of the Titanic tickling me!

I pealed with laughter and giggles, begging him to stop. It was like I was a little child again - in my father's arms. "I surrender! Truce! Truce!"

Beaming like a toddler who's just had her first ice cream cone, I was enjoying every single moment.

Apparently, so was he.

I tried attacking back, and we were soon on the floor, laughing carelessly together.

"You are so immature!" I gasped with a smile.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really!"

"Well, then I was being immaturely reasonable!"

"What?"

"I don't know myself. Right now, I'm a Welsh man talking utter rubbish."

We grinned at each other like two fools, only to burst into a random fit of laughter once more.

Without warning, the door to Harold's room swung open. Outside was the very curious duo of Titanic's radio operators, Jack Phillips and Harold Bride. Behind them stood an even more befuddled Officer Murdoch.

Phillips finally spoke up, breaking the awkward silence. "G'evening Mr. Lowe...and Miss...um...me and Bride were just going around to see if you've got any messages you'd like us to send."

Harold sprang up from my side on the floor and straightened his disheveled uniform. "Oh, thank you, but no...I'm erm, alright."

The men glanced to me next. I kindly shook my head.

"Okay. Sure, it's no problem," chimed Bride, "By the way, is...um...everything fine? We heard a lot of laughter-"

"Yes," shot Harold, "We were just..."

He was at a complete loss of words. "Having a tickling game," I finished for him with a smile. "Care to join us?" I joked. "It's rather good fun." Hey, honesty is the best policy.

"Tickling. Game?" Murdoch cocked his head in bewilderment and later replied with a chuckle, "No thanks. Maybe another time?"

"Of course," Mr. Lowe nodded with a smug grin.

The trio gushed an awkward chain of goodnight's before closing the door again.

Despite how tired we were, we conversed until dawn. Eventually, Harold nodded off to sleep against my shoulder. I stole my chance and caressed his cheek, smiling at the flush of rosiness still dominant upon his cheekbone. Minutes later, I was a goner too and fell dormant by his side. This time, for the first slumber in months, I only had pleasant dreams.

The horrors were all very far at bay.