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Disclaimer: Anna Lyn Connor and other unknown characters belong to me. Everyone else (who is NOT in the movie) is real. Any of the enjoyable characters of James Cameron's movie belongs to him, along with all of the legalities and technicalities.
Asides from that, please enjoy and thank you for your constant support!
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9 April 1912
The night was as still as the air itself. Southampton port was covered in a thick fog, and the cold was settling in. Some of the new ship's crewmembers were leisurely walking from to and fro, with cigarettes in their mouths. Their hands moved about to animate their jovial talk. She could feel the anticipation running through everyone's veins.
The maiden voyage was yet tomorrow, and America was just a few days away.
A woman, dressed in the poorest attire, crouched against the crates, was waiting for the happily talking crew members to walk by. Her hands bolstered the grip around her bag, and she waited for the right moment to run for the cargo hold.
It was eight at night, and she had expected the crew to go home, and rest for the voyage tomorrow. Oh, how much she had underestimated these men.
A pair of green eyes peeked over the wooden crate again. There were three men standing right next to the door itself, smoking their cigars, and cigarettes. She cursed in her native tongue. They weren't working! They were smoking, and just having a jolly good ol' time… She knew that they weren't going to leave any time soon either. The woman shrank back behind her crate, and pulled the tabby shawl around her shoulders tightly. There was barely any warmth emitting from that piece of clothing, and she shivered as another wisp of chills brushed across her pale cheeks. The talk got louder, and the smell of smoke was eminent to her. She choked at her cough, and tried her best to hold it in.
The woman was taking more risks than she could comprehend. She was going to stowaway in the Titanic? It was unheard of! It's not, because it wasn't done before. Oh, no, many of these stunts have been done before. But she was going to stowaway in the most luxurious liner of today! It was really unheard of!
She couldn't stop thinking of the terrible things they were going to do to her if they've found her hiding in the hold. They might even throw her off broad, and she was going to die in the icy waters of the Atlantic. Or, they might torture her in ways that she thought it was immoral. Or, maybe…they'll shoot her right between the eyes.
Clutching her bag for protection, she shook her head.
No, they wouldn't shoot a woman.
Would they?
The woman gulped down her fear, and yet again, looked across the crate to see if the men were still at the door. As luck would have it, no one stationed anywhere near the door.
In a flash, faster than the eyes could see, and hands could move, a dark head ran across the loading dock and into the protection of a shadow of a crate that was positioned closer to the door. Faintly, she panted quickly, trying to catch her breath against the cold air.
But her luck had once again turned on her. This wasn't good.
The people were heading back towards the door, and she was right in their path. They were bound to see here sitting there like an insolent schoolgirl, trying to sneak out of class. Then, may be now, she would be shot, and possibly hanged for her attempt to stowaway on the Ship of Dreams.
With an unethical tongue, she cursed all of the words that she knew, silently. She ducked quickly as the misshaping shadows passed over her head.
The fear came back again, but now, it was squeezing the life out of her. Her breath came out in chokes, and beads of sweat rolled down from her forehead. She had also noticed that her hands were trembling, and her eyes watered for no apparent reason.
She was crying.
All of the plans that she had intended to follow through were dispersing faster than she could reach out to grab hold of them. It wasn't happening. Her chance at a new life was moving away from the light, and her ambitions became hazy. She was going to remain in England for the rest of her life. She knew that she didn't have a home to go to, and if she had decided to go back to where she had come from, she was surely going to be beaten for what she was trying to do.
Her husband was a violent man. He was also a drunk. Every night, the poor woman would sit at home, waiting for her husband to come home from work. But to no avail, he either would come back very late at night, or very early in the morning, smelling of beer, and other women. She despised it all, but if she was to speak out her thoughts, she would be soundly beaten.
At first, her husband was a loving man. He had promised her the world, and look what she had ended up with: a bastard, and scars and bruises all over her body.
He had promised her a happy home and a beautiful life. She would make him the most wonderful wife, and he would love her.
Men lie, she told herself. All of them lie…
The day after their wedding, he dropped his devotion, and picked up a better pursuit: Beer, and more satisfying pairs of legs.
Yes, he would go ballistic in the morning.
Yes, he would beat—no—kill her if she was to return.
Yes, he would never let her out of the house again. She was sure that he would lock her up in a little closet with no windows, and she was never going to see the light of day again!
It's now, or never, darling, she told herself. It's now or never.
An opportunity like this will never present itself again.
Shakily, she wiped away the tears as her mind raced with questions, doubts and possibilities.
She went with her guts and ran for her life, dodging, and swooping to avoid any suspicious glance. Quickly, she jumped into the cargo hold and into the shield of yet another shadow of a crate. Her breathing was raged from the adrenalin, and her quickly fluttering heart. She closed her eyes as tightly as they would close, trying to recover from her decision. She could not believe that she had made it.
No more violent husband.
No more England.
No more of her old life.
And, definitely, no more fearing for her life.
She was going to set herself a new life on a new horizon. She was going to better herself. American had just opened her arms to her. And the woman was content.
May be, I'll become a teacher, she thought happily. Even better, an actress!
After realizing what she had just thought of, the woman mentally slapped herself for even thinking that. As if anyone was not going to let a poor beggar become an actress! She only had enough money for a new home, and some food, but surely not enough to start an acting career.
They also needed talent, Anna, she continued her own silent conversation. And what do you have? A tawdry dress and pair of dazzling green eyes?
Against the dimmed light of the cargo hold, the woman's eyes were the brightest thing in room, regardless of her own thoughts about them.
They were emeralds. They were jewels, and they were one of her most prized possessions.
In fear of anyone hearing her, she didn't move from her spot until the cargo door was shut tightly. It took the men a while to finish their duties, and she had noticed that her muscles shook from the pain. She let out a stifled sob as the pain grew worst. This was terrible compared to any of her husband's beatings. Her legs started to ache from the over-exertion, and a loud whimper was at the base of her throat. If she was to move, they would hear the scratching of her dress against the steel floor. The echo in the damn place was terribly loud, and she couldn't risk anything now. She came too far to be caught!
The crew members were leisurely taking their time with their work. God, this was torture.
Aside from the pain, she kept telling herself that, it's for the best Anna. But somehow she just could not bring her heart to believe it. Everything that was flowing her way was slowly pulling away its lights, and it was turning against her. The men. The pain. Her cocky triumph. She prayed for forgiveness, and for blissful reproach.
Slowly, the dimmed light reduced to darkness, and she then knew someone was helping her. Anna dropped herself from her stance, and sat in a more comfortable position. Her legs throbbed from the new set of blood rushing up and down its tubes. The only thing she could hear was her breathing that was laced with quite sobs, but she had to admit that the silence was more comfortable than any thing she had ever experienced.
It is for the best, darling.
The woman's deep green eyes took a moment to adjust to her dark environment. When her eyes focused, the eerie shadows became a multitude of crates, and baggage.
Her strength didn't allow her to pursue any further exploration, and her body cried for sleep. Positioning herself covertly between two crates, Anna Lyn Connor took in a deep breath of the chilly air before plunging into a world of dreamless sleep.
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