Okay, so before we get this chapter rolling, I have some news. I currently am working on a free trial of Microsoft Office which is going to run out on March 31st. I'm hoping to either renew the trial or buy the software as soon as possible after that date, but you never know. So there might be a big break between updates in the beginning of April. Just letting you know.

Also, I would like to continue to thank everybody who's reviewing- it is a really good feeling to know that your work is being appreciated. So again, thanks so much. Keep on keeping on. :D

Chapter Five

The Penthouse Suite,

#400 East 67th Street

The dress Rose held in her hands was absolutely beautiful. The strapless number was a deep red with a cinched, banded empire waist, sheer black tulle overlay and gothic-esque embroidery on the bust and around the bottom, which fell just above her knees. It had never even been out of the plastic covering before, and just the thought of wearing it made her feel like a princess. That was what she told herself when her life seemed awful- I am a princess. She had read that in the book 'A Little Princess' when she was just seven years old, and it had always seemed like a nice notion. Even in the most awful of storms, just telling yourself that you are a princess made everything go away, even if it was just for a little while.

Tonight was probably going to be that night that Cal officially proposed to Rose. As soon as they'd gotten home from the art gallery, Ruth had sent Rose up to her bedroom so that she could prepare for dinner at some ridiculously expensive restaurant, telling her that tonight 'was a big night,' and that could only mean one thing. Sighing, Rose laid the dress on her bed and sat down beside it. She didn't want to be married at seventeen, and especially not to Cal! She had hoped he would have changed his ways in the last four years, but if anything he had only gotten worse. He had been such an arrogant asshole at the art gallery that afternoon. She was still angry over the way he'd spoken as though he knew what was going on inside of her head; as though he even knew her at all! Rose couldn't even bear to imagine the life she would lead if she was to be suppressed by Cal for all of eternity.

Sometimes, when she felt as though there was no room left in her life to breath, Rose very briefly thought about the time when her father had been alive. She never thought about those days for more than a fleeting moment, though, and she never really thought about the part of her life where he was dead. Sure, that was every day now, but she wasn't able to think of it like that- it was just life; not necessarily life without her father. Now, though, she allowed herself to truly think about her father for the first time since he died. He had loved her so much and she wished with every fibre of her being that he could be with her again. If he was here, the maybe things would be different. Maybe he would have stood up to her mother, like the way he did when Rose was younger and wanted to go out and do things like the other kids. If it hadn't been for her father, Rose never would have gotten the chance to ride a bike, pierce her ears go to summer camp. Maybe, if he was still alive, she would have the chance to go out and see the world and meet someone who she really loved...

No. She couldn't allow herself to think that way. She was grown up now; grown up and mature and too old to amuse herself with fanciful ideas of what may and may not be if things were different. If she started to think those thoughts, she would begin to hope that they would come true, and that would only set her up for a world of hurt in the end. Her father was dead, she was going to marry Cal, and there was no way out.

Blocking all thoughts of her father from her mind, Rose sat down in front of her vanity mirror and ran her fingers through her hair. What to do with it? She didn't want to make it look too fancy, because that would be as though she was acknowledging the importance of the night. That would make it seem like she cared. Which she didn't. Instead, she slipped it through an elastic and wrapped it into a messy bun, fastening it with a pewter flower clip. When she was happy with the way her hair looked, she got up from her chair and took the plastic off of her brand new dress. It was so beautiful... so like everything in her life. Well, on the outside, anyway.

To tell the truth, it was the loveliest dress she'd ever seen and fit her like a glove, but she just didn't feel like herself in it. It was like a symbol for her- a symbol of the way her mother repressing everything Rose wished she could stand for. On the inside, Rose knew that she was meant to be a wild, free-spirited person, but she also knew that she was far too afraid to admit it to her mother, and she always would be.

As she closed her bedroom door behind her, she felt as though she was closing the door to the life she'd always wanted to live- the life where she was a painter or a dancer or an actress who was married to a man she loved- and walking head on into a future full of regret.

"I'm ready to go, Mother," she said as she noticed that Ruth was standing in front of the door waiting for her. She looked so very self-important.

Ruth nodded briskly. "Well, then, let's be on our way. Mr Hockley has arranged for us to be picked up outside tonight." No 'you look beautiful' or even 'I like that dress.' Not from her mother. Her mother didn't care about her, really.

Sometimes Rose wondered if God even paid attention to the type of people he gave children to. Either he didn't care, or he'd made a big mistake with Ruth. There were plenty of girls in the world who wanted to be pampered princesses, and plenty of mothers who wanted their daughters to enjoy life. Why couldn't the DeWitt Bukaters have been put into families that better suited their lifestyle? Sometimes the world really was unfair.

Mother and daughter were silent during the elevator ride. They both knew what awaited them later that night, and neither one of them spoke for fear of bringing that unspoken truth to the surface. For Rose's part anyway, she was too afraid to make her mother angry. Outside if the building, a black limousine was pulled up at the sidewalk. Of course.

Leave it to Cal to do absolutely everything in his power to draw attention to the soon-to-be union between Rose and himself. Why couldn't they just take the subway like normal people?

"Well, isn't that lovely?" Ruth said, but Rose could tell that she would be inwardly evaluating every inch of the night, starting now. Her mother had to be the only person for whom a limousine may not be good enough- not that it was a surprise or anything.

A driver in a long black coat stepped out and held the door open for the two women. Rose was momentarily relieved to be sheltered from the cold breeze, but her pleasure lasted literally half a second before she noticed that, sitting down next to the window, was Cal. She didn't really know why she'd thought he'd be meeting them at the restaurant; she just had.

"Rose, darling," he said, kissing her hand, "you look beautiful."

Shivers ran up and down Rose's spine. It was ironic that only minutes ago she had been wishing that her mother would tell her how beautiful she was, but hearing from Cal made her stomach turn over. She didn't want Cal to think she was beautiful or to be attracted to her. She wanted him to look at her for what she was- a teenager hardly more than half his age. It wasn't even legal for them to be together! Of course, they wouldn't be married until Rose's eighteenth birthday had passed, but that didn't make it any better. If she were living in any version of the real world, Cal would have been considered a pedophile. Too bad her mother only cared about money. Money they had, money they lost, money they needed back. Money that was owed to them by Cal; a debt that he could never truly repay.

No, Rose reminded herself. Do not think such thoughts.

"Good evening, Cal," she said primly. Then, in hopes to avoid an awkward and painful silence, "Where are we going tonight?"

Cal smiled broadly, looking all together satisfied with himself. Rose felt like throwing up.

"It's a surprise, sweetheart."

At that, Rose felt beads of sweat begin to develop on her palms. Was she the only person who felt that her impending engagement to Cal was utterly inappropriate and vaguely disgusting? She glanced quickly at her mother, hoping to catch her attention. Ruth, however, was busy talking animatedly to the limo driver. She then turned to Cal and began a conversation with him, leaving Rose alone with her thoughts.

Outside of the windows were people riding bikes on the sidewalk, hailing cabs and waiting at bus stops. Crawling down the street at half a mile an hour, a black limousine was entirely out of place. Regular, happy, free-spirited people did not drive around New York City in limos. That was the sort of thing that people stared at. Unlike her mother, Rose was not the type who liked people to gape at and stare. Her father hadn't been either.

Why did he keep popping up in her thoughts lately? He had died when Rose was eleven, and she'd always been too afraid of hurting to think about him; to her allow herself to wonder what her teen years might have been like if he was still alive. For the first time in her life, she realized that there was a gaping hole in her heart where her father used to be. That gaping hole longed to see him again more than anything else in the world- to have him hold her in his arms and tell her she was beautiful and to just take all of the pain away. He would take her far away from Cal and her mother and this life that wished she wasn't living.

The driver pulled up in the parking lot of an extremely elegant restaurant that Rose had never been to before. The car door was opened, allowing a gust of cold autumn wind to brush up against Rose's legs as she climbed out.

"It's a little chilly tonight, isn't it?" Cal asked to know one in particular, taking his suit jacket off and attempting to wrap it around Rose's shoulders. She just shrugged away from the offer, not want anything at all to do with him.

"I'm fine," she said coldly, walking on ahead of Cal and her mother. When the group entered the restaurant, Cal announced them as the 'Hockley party' to the woman waiting to bring them to their table, which was just enough to throw Rose over the edge. She felt like wrapping her hands around Cal's neck and squeezing... hard. Until he stopped breathing. If perhaps she had no way out of being married to him sometime down the line, that didn't mean her mother had any sort of relation to him. As much as her mother made her angry sometimes, she would never wish being a part of Cal's family on even her most hated enemy.

The restaurant was absolutely gorgeous, painted a deep red with pristinely white tablecloths and seat coverings. The tables were adorned with serviettes the same shade of wine as the walls, as well as matching roses, all of which Ruth took in within moments.

"This is an exquisite place, Caledon," she said with an approving smile, before shooting a quick but sharp glance at her daughter. It was as though she was trying to say, 'See how much how cares?' The impression Rose got, though, was more along the lines of 'See how much he's trying to impress my mother?' In the back of her mind, she kept reminding herself that if only her father was still around, this wouldn't be happening. If only...

In that instant, Rose made a drastic decision. Her mother's constant insults, Cal's perverted smothering, the cotillion lessons, the gowns and dresses... the life that, rather than having been made by her, had been made for her by someone who had anything but her best interests at heart... it was all too much. Without a word, she Rose calmly from the table and turned on her heels, ignoring the looks of surprise on the faces of Ruth and Cal.

Soon she was outside of the restaurant, the cold wind whipping across her face. It drove her to move faster and more purposefully. She ripped the stupid flower out of her hair and started to run. To run to a way out. To run to a place where she could get away from it all. To run to her father. To run to the end.