Rose awoke from her troubled sleep, gasping for air. Beads of cold sweat adorned her pale skin like glistening jewels. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness she remembered where she was. She was still in her bed at the inn. Pulling the covers closely around her frail body, she sighed heavily. The dreams had been strong tonight. This night being the two month anniversary since the Titanic had sank. Rose tried to lull herself back into a restless sleep but it was to no avail. She couldn't do this anymore. She needed to move on.
After discovering the necklace in Cal's coat, she prompted to check the other pocket and sure enough there was a wad of cash. A little bit over a thousand dollars to be exact. Rose hid from Cal and Ruth the entire time she was aboard the Carpathia and she managed to escape them a second time when the ship docked. Not sure of what to do Rose wandered the streets of New York until she found the only inn that would let a woman check in alone. She had told the manager that she was a widow. He hardly believed her but granted her a room nonetheless.
Ms. Rose Dawson was ready to start her new life; except she never imagined how hard it was for a woman to find a job. No one wanted a woman, let alone a woman who hardly had any skills that were useful. She blamed her mother for that. Riding side saddle and drinking tea like a lady hardly qualified as useful. Still Rose tried her hardest. Finally Rose had to succumb to the world of seamstresses. Questionable at best, Rose tried her best to learn the skill quickly.
Sickness overcame Rose every chance it got. She was so overcome with grief that her body was always sick or so she thought. It hadn't even occurred to her that she hadn't had her period in over two months now. Her thoughts were so overcome with haunting memories that she hardly paid attention to herself at all. Although she hardly ate her body kept its weight. Her face was chalky and pale. Her hair had humbled itself to thin strands of limp crimson locks.
As the sun crept up the walls of her small room her sickness didn't fail her. Stumbling out from the lavatory, her body crumpled at the foot of her bed. She broke down into a grave sob. All the walls of the room felt as though they were crashing down on her. Her shoulders ached from the weight they carried. Rose solemnly pulled herself up next to the nightstand. Wrapping her fingers around the sharp blade calmed her slightly. Raising the blade to her scarred thighs she pressed hard. The first cut always felt the best. Thins streaks of red trickled out from her legs. She exhaled slowly as she dragged the cold metal along her skin. Feeling satisfied minutes later; Rose cleaned up and dressed ready to start another lifeless day.
TBC
A/N: Sorry it's short! I am just getting warmed up. The long and more meaningful chapters shall come soon! I promise. As always please read and review! Thanks!