Chapter 12-Paradise Lost

Thomas awoke the next morning before Rose. He looked down at her head resting upon his chest, with her wavy hair spread across him, a sea of auburn curls. She was so beautiful.

Thomas remained that way for several minutes, ten or fifteen, just gazing down in wonder at this rare prize. He could never take Rose for granted, he knew it even there. Rose wasn't his simply to parade around as an object of beauty. She was smart, stubborn and head strong. But, truthfully, now he had her, Thomas had no ideas of what to do with her. He had known he wanted to marry her, and they would be married, once Rose was eighteen. But after that- Thomas had always lived the life of a solitary bachelor, single and unattached. Things had been so simple on board the Titanic, where Thomas was in his element. His feelings for Rose had been so new and exciting, he had never been moved like that before. And he loved her even more than he did before, and that scared Thomas. It was so unlike him to be dependant on anything but himself. But hundreds of others had depended on him too, and they had lost their lives for it.

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Rose woke up. "Thomas?" She called. He wasn't lying next to her anymore. She glanced at the clock on the dresser, which read half-past-seven. "Thomas?" She called again. She dragged herself up off the bed, and wandered out to the lounge area, which was simple and modest. Thomas wasn't there. Rose was suddenly flooded with anxiety. She didn't like Thomas leaving her alone here. After the sinking, Thomas hadn't left her side, and Rose had become accustomed to Thomas dominating her, in his own quiet, caring, subtle way. She dressed, with the decision to go out. She was young, after all, and independent. Wasn't this what she had wanted, after all? To be free to make her own choices, to do what she wanted? It was ridiculous, really. Her love had changed everything.

She left the room, and took the elevator downstairs to the lobby, and left through the big doors. It was quite chilly outside, and Rose felt glad of her warm stole, but it felt good to be outside again. Thomas now wanted to stay in most of the time, he was sure that all of America blamed him for the sinking. It had been a month since the sinking now. Rose was sure that some other story would be head-lining the news by now. She walked along the snow-covered street, watching the hustle and bustle it's busy occupants. She didn't really know where she was. Her visits to the city had always been determined and guided by someone else, her mother and Cal.

She wandered down a small side street, humming softly to herself. She was lost in her thoughts, revelling in her new found freedom, not paying attention to her surroundings. A hand shot out from a dim corner of a building, its owner steeped in shadows, and dragged Rose into the corner.

"Well, what do we have here now? A pretty young lassie? George, Fred, come'n look at this pretty thing,"

Rose panicked, and tried to pull away, but she was held fast, and the man who first spoke clasped a dirty hand over her mouth.

"Don't even think about screaming," He said "If yer do, we'll only hurt you worse." The other two thugs grinned and rubbed their hands together.

Rose screamed inwardly for Thomas through her tears.

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Thomas returned back to the hotel at ten. He had left Rose sleeping, for a walk in the park. Rose had been right. There were no accusing stares, the ones who recognised him had simply said "I'm sorry". Thomas wondered what he had to be sorry of. He had lost nothing, except perhaps his ego. He had gained Rose, and to him that had meant everything. Thomas had sat in one of the park's oak benches, and stared at the water fowl on the lake. The water reminded him painfully of the Titanic, but hardly anything didn't these days.

Rose wasn't at the hotel when he returned home.