Hello all, this is a re-write of an old story of mine which I wrote a couple of years ago. I have re-written most of it and forgot how much I loved this story!

The Night Train

After an abusive eight years of marriage, Rose Hockley runs away from her marital home. Where will she end up?

Chapter one: Freedom

Philadelphia, 1919.

Violence and abuse. The two things which Rose Hockley had endured during her eight-year marriage to Caledon Hockley. Their wedding day seemed to be a distant memory in her head as she forced herself to stumble through next few minutes of her life.

Feeling her hands tremble, Rose heard the organist begin the wedding march. Clutching her bouquet, she closed her eyes to say a silent prayer to get her through the day. In fact, to get her through the next few minutes. She could feel her veil and her tiara digging into her head like nails. She couldn't even put one foot in front of the other. She knew that there were five hundred people waiting for her right now. Five hundred members of Philadelphia society who have come to witness the marriage take place. At first, she had been flattered by his affections and maybe had initially even thought she had been in love with him but after his proposal, he had turned into a rather nasty pompous piece of work. During their engagement trip to Europe, he had made many failed attempts to get her into bed. Of course, her excuse been she wanted to wait until they were married. She had been raised a good Christian girl. Rose's thoughts came back to the present as she felt her two maids brushing the white dress which she wore. They adjusted any curls which had straightened and sorted out her veil. Her three bridesmaids stood at the front of the largest church in the state. She hadn't been inside since her father's funeral two years previous. They wore burgundy dresses which had been chosen by her mother, who too wore the colour. Rose had originally chosen lavender, not just because she loved the colour but because she knew her mother detested it. Of course, she had no say in such things, every single little detail been planned around her which she had no voice. When she did speak out, she was told to shut up and sit down like some rude little girl, so she had known better than to voice her opinion. She knew she would have to get moving soon. Her heart beat fast within her chest and for one moment she felt like turning and simply running away...

...Why hadn't she? Their daughter, Jennifer had died at birth nine months after the wedding and then Peter the following year. Another three miscarriages were enough to break young Rose and after eight years of turmoil; she was running away. She couldn't survive another moment in their marital home.

Rose's mother, Ruth, had passed away seven months before, after slowly realising just what her son-in-law had put her daughter through during their marriage. Ruth had died suddenly, with mother and daughter never recovering their long-lost bond. The death had affected Rose, more than she could have imagined. At times, during heated moments, she had even wished her own Mother away, out of the equation but now, without her presence and steely sharp eyes, even Rose had missed and ached for the loss which she had suffered.

Now, with eight years of black eyes, broken bones and mental scars, Rose was finally and very suddenly awakened to her misery. She had had enough; she hated the man she married. With glazed eyes, she watched as he laid in the bed which they had shared for all of their married years; after thinking of setting it alight, watching as he writhed in pain just had she had all of these years. He had taken such pleasure in seeing her suffer, especially after the death of their son.

A single tear fell down her face and quickly she wiped it away. Her mother would know just by looking at her face that she had been crying. She knew she would be crying for freedom. In just a few moments, she would join Cal and be his forever. She could hear the whispers of the people in the church, wondering where she was. She knew she would have to make a decision now or never. She nodded her head, knowing what she would have to do. She was about to take a step forward out towards the altar when she realised she couldn't. Almost as if her feet were glued to the floor and she was been held back. Something inside of her snapped, she couldn't do this…she couldn't marry Cal. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder, not one of comfort but one of violence. It belonged to Spicer Lovejoy, her fiancé's manservant.

''Walk, Miss.'' He urged, shoving her so hard she almost tripped over her skirts. She headed down the aisle, crying beneath the veil. The people of Philadelphia cried along with her, assuming they were tears of happiness. Such a beautiful young bride. Such a naïve young girl and so she became Mrs Hockley.

Shakily, Rose attempted to button up her coat while her eyes darted around the dark room, trying to find anything else which she might find useful to pack. Her mind couldn't focus on anything else other than leaving the house and never returning. In her panicked state she tried to muddle through a mental list of what she could possibly have forgotten. Nothing.

Rose grabbed the small suitcase and headed down the stairs. She had packed very little; just three plain dresses and a pair of comfortable shoes. She had also taken small pieces of jewellery, things that she could sell once she reached…well wherever one was heading... A brush, a bar of soap and changes of undergarments had also been stuffed inside the bag as well as the small handful of grips and a lipstick which she had managed to grasp on the way out of her bedroom and thrust them into her pocket. With her small bag in her shaky hands, she descended the four flights of stairs to the bottom floors. Her breathing was short as she reached the bottom but she didn't have the courage to stop now.

''Ma'am, what on earth are you doing up so late?'' A voice called out to her. Rose's eyes widened, she hadn't realised anyone was up and about. She had not even prepared herself to deal with speaking to someone. Lovejoy crossed her mind; Cal's valet and wondered if he too lurked around. If she was found to be running away, she would be made to suffer every day and live a very long life with Cal.

''Please, don't tell anyone of my whereabouts.'' Rose begged as she turned her back to the young maid. She hurried to the back door hoping that if she took the long way and ran through the woods then no one would see her. The maid was left at the doorway, her mouth gaped open. It was pitch black outside, well past midnight possibly even heading towards the small hours she didn't know for certain. All she knew is she had to get out of the house.

''But where are you going?''

Rose stopped for a moment. She shook her head slowly. ''I don't know. I just have to leave.''

That was the nudge for her to go, so she proceeded down the garden path looking for a gate which led into the woods. Rose did not know her way in or out of the woods but she would find a way. Her legs broke out into a run, tears streamed from her eyes, her hair whipped about her face in the wind as she ran. Her mind thought of the times Cal had forced himself at her, spat at her and kicked her, leaving her weeping and crying out in pain. She ignored the pain in her chest as she ran as fast as she could. The images urged her to run faster knowing with every second she was further away from him and her old life and one step closer to her new one. This was her incentive to keep going.

She ran as much as she could before realising, her breathing seemed to have stopped. After running for what seemed like hours, she slowed her pace down before glancing back to see how far the journey had been. If she wanted to go back, there was now not a chance, for she wouldn't know the way. There had to be an ending to the woods soon. Her bearings gathered; here she was, stood in a field, surrounded by bushes and large trees; her eyes went up to the sky, to how cloudy it was and rain threatened to come. The moon was hiding amongst the dark clouds and no stars were shining. Leaving town today was her only option, but for now, she was so out of breath. Leaning herself against a hanging tree away from the path clearing of the woods, she took a rest.

She had been eighteen years old when she met Caledon Hockley. Rose Dewitt Bukater was a picture of beauty; her hair was long and red, twisted into a bun on her head every day but once let loose the curls cascaded down to her waist. Her skin was pale, almost white and she gave off a translucent glow. Her eyes were sea blue with a tint of green but once you saw past their breath-taking colour you could see just how haunted she was. Born into high society, from an early age she had been taught how to act and how to dress. Everything from what she wore to what she ate was decided for her so when her father had passed away the year before it was no surprise when she had been dragged from finishing school to marry a man by the name of Caledon Hockley. His father was wealthy and in the steel business. Caledon or ''Cal'' as he was known in those circles had been attracted to Rose since she was a young girl but although he was handsome he was extremely vile. He treat women like possessions and she was a strong woman for her age, she wouldn't become involved with someone who was so far up his own...well, not that she should say this but she didn't care very much for him.

As soon as he had proposed marriage she had refused but her mother had put extreme pressure on her, adding extra weight to her shoulders and eventually she had caved. Saying yes to Cal had made him think she was his and his only. She was refrained from doing anything, even her Sundays at church were forbidden although when it came to the evening, he had literally begged her to go to bed with him. She knew she had been fully developed for a girl of her age and beneath her corset she had curves to go crazy for but she had never wanted to give herself to Cal, he was almost 30 at that time. During their six month engagement she had found many ways to secretly rebel, she had smoked and drank so much she had thrown up.

The only light came from the moon which shone between the trees. Rose didn't feel scared in the slightest. She felt a release from somewhere within. As a child she had played in these woods, her mother pleading with her not to go near them again. She had been warned of the bad men who lived in the woods and the monsters who stole naughty children but nothing had deterred young fiery Rose. Those false fairy tales meant nothing to her. She felt safer in the dark woods than at home with her own husband. She would never come back to these parts again; she took a moment in the misty dark to remember the times with her father here as a child but then soon realised she must keep running...and running...

Grabbing her case, she picked up her skirts and began to run faster than before, ignoring the stitch in her side and the fact that she could barely breathe as her legs carried her faster and faster.

Finally, after what seemed like forever there appeared to be a light in the trees indicating that she had come to a clearing. Slowing down her pace, she allowed herself to breathe properly.

Rose turned to face Cal. He limped towards her and she felt his heart beat quickly.

''You wouldn't dare shoot.'' She taunted, knowing he wouldn't. This was one of his games. After seven years of marriage, she had grown used to his game. She would taunt back and he didn't like it one bit.

Cal held the gun almost to Rose's skin and she felt Cal's hand wrap around her throat.

''Oh I dare.'' Cal pressed the cold metal to her forehead and she closed her eyes quickly expecting death to come to him within the next few seconds. Cal tightened the grip around her throat and she felt herself choking, she attempted to cough but nothing would come out. Cal watched as her face grew more and more red as he squeezed tighter. She felt the life slowly drain from her, her feet almost didn't touch the ground and when she reached out her hands for something to grab but there was nothing within her reach. It would be over soon the torture, she wouldn't die tonight. She refused to.

Stopping as she came to the clearing, Rose poked her head outside and glanced around. She didn't appear to know anyone. This was a big enough town she hoped, for people to not know her face. Keeping her head down, she crossed the road onto the other side where a horse drawn carriage had pulled up delivering flour to a nearby house. After contemplating asking them for a ride, she quickly realised that it would draw too much attention to her.

A loud thunderous noise come and Rose jumped, turning she saw a train rumbling over the railway bridge. That meant the train station was near. Picking up her skirts, she darted in the direction of the train avoiding any dirty looks received from pedestrians. Were people always out and about so early in the morning? Her eyes came across a large clock which chimed loudly, whipping her head around she saw the time. 4.00am. It was still dark but morning was approaching. Rose had rarely caught a train and even when she did, she was ushered into a carriage by her husband - she knew nothing of purchasing tickets or such.

Fine rain began to fall and Rose darted for cover to keep her hair preserved for the time being. Trains pulled up on the four tracks and she wondered where they were headed. Her hair was soaked, sticking to her face and she attempted to peel it away to appear half decent and then she realised she needed some sort of disguise. Pulling her shawl over her head, she grasped it at her neck to conceal her red hair.

A loud whistle sounded, followed by a loud engine starting and the second train which had arrived headed North of the station and a little of the steam cleared. She wafted it out of her face and tried to allow her vision to clear. She had to make decisions thick and fast, where was she going?

A man sat smoking a rolled-up cigarette in the ticket box. Slowly, Rose approached him.

''Where is the next train heading?''

He removed the cigarette from his mouth. ''California in about-'' He checked the hands of the clock where the church stood. ''-six minutes. Plenty of room left. You running away, lady?''

Quickly, she reached into her pocket and unravelled some notes. ''One third-class please.'' She handed him the money. ''And no, I am not running away.''

He produced a ticket, scribbling something on the paper before handing it to her. ''Most women who travel through the night are runaways that's is all, Miss.''

Rose ignored his comments as she picked up her bag and walked away as he continued to speak to her. Realising she hadn't asked which train was the right one to board, she realised that she would simply have to take a chance.

Selecting the one closest to her, all lights were out and the doors were open. She climbed aboard hesitantly. The corridors were long and narrow, doors at either side. Passengers were visible inside sleeping. She carried on down the carriage until she came to the area which she assumed was third class. A sign above her head on the carriage door confirmed this. She took a deep breathe, knowing this is where she would be spending the next few days. Peering through the windows, she saw families were cramped into small cabins. It was that moment which she realised that she would not be alone for the duration of this trip.

In the dim light, Rose found herself reading the number which the conductor had written down. Cabin 42. She glanced at the number of the cabin in front of her. Cabin 35. She picked up her pace, squinting in the dark in an attempt to read the door numbers and then a small light caught her attention.

A small gas lamp shone in one of the cabins and Rose found it was the one she had been allocated. A man was in there, he wasn't asleep she knew that much. Her heart pounded at the thought of been alone with another man. She quietly opened the door, not wishing to disturb the peaceful silence. The cabin consisted of a table with two benches which she assumed they would be sleeping on. A deck of cards was laid out in front of the man and he smoked a cigarette, a cloud of smoke surrounding him. His clothes were well kept to say he was a man of lower class. She entered the cabin, removing her bag from her arm and slowly sitting on the opposite bench. She didn't dare get eye contact with him and sincerely hoped that he could not hear the pounding of her heart within her chest.

''I'm Jack.'' A whisper broke the silence. A quick glance up and her eyes were locked with his. The most perfect blue.

''Rose.''

He nodded. ''The smoking doesn't bother you does it?''

''No.'' She shook her head slightly, her now loose curls moving about her face.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pouch. ''Would you like one?''

Rose watched as he expertly rolled a cigarette before offering it to her. #She found herself enthralled by how easy he made it look.

''Would you light it for me?''

Smoking a cigarette was something which was banned from her household by women.

''Sure.''

He pulled a match out of his pocket, placed the cigarette between his lips and puffed on it as he lit it. He passed it to her, she took it placing it between her lips. There was something seductive about the way he lit it.

''So, where are you heading?'' Her voice was hoarse.

''Sacramento, California. How about you?''

She paused to think. ''California.'' She didn't know where she would go from the station.

''You running away?'' He picked up a deck of the cards and expertly shuffling them.

Her heart pounded. ''Something like that.'' She paused for a moment as their eyes met. ''Do I look like a runaway?''

He smiled, dimples appearing. ''Something like that.''

''Well do I?''

He took another drag from his cigarette, a long drawn out one. As though he needed the nicotine so badly.

''You reek of upper-class horse shit.'' He spoke quietly and hoarsely.

Rose should have been afraid but she so badly wanted to prove him wrong. It was warm suddenly within the cabin, so, so warm. She didn't know if it was the heat from the lamp or from the man sat opposite her. Slowly, she removed her shawl, allowing it to fall down her arms to reveal a skin-coloured dress, which offered a peek of more décolleté than one remembered. Her copper curls cascaded down her back as they were freed fully from the shawl.

It was in that moment; Jack had never been more mesmerised by anything in his entire life.