The Suffocation

Rose had come so close to escaping her suffocated life. Too close. Or as close as she had actually wished to.

She mulled over whether the fact that Jack Dawson had saved her from jumping from the ship, and that he had done her a service in saving her life or if she had simply been left to suffer even longer. Part of her was dismayed that she hadn't just been left to fall into the abyss below and be finally granted the freedom she so desperately craved. That part, though, was dull for now, though it was inevitable to return within the coming days. Despite this newfound quietude, she sensed it was still there now, skimming just beneath the surface, just somehow waiting to take in some air.

Jack had consumed her thoughts; especially how he had the power to compel her with just the intensity of his gaze. How her entire universe had quaked just with his ingress into her world just by touching her, setting her soul aflame. How his hands at her waist had given her the most comfort that she had ever deemed possible. Cal was a man who never stirred so much as a slight tumble within her tummy or her mind.

Well that, as refined as it was, had been made clear that it was as much use as what mice were. There would never be a need for her to form an opinion, or to feel vehement of something aside from the colour of the flowers, or her gowns. Nevertheless something had occurred, her melancholy had lifted, even if it had only been temporary. She had been gifted a slow release of something that was not just mundanity, but that was before the fatigue set back in.

Rose's own life was laid before her like a formal banquet. The further the Titanic sailed, the closer she was to becoming Cal's wife. The closer she was to being trapped invariably. That had been the entire objective of ending her despairing life, for what lay ahead of her but misery?

Her and Jack were at such polar opposite ends of the world, it was almost a nonpareil as to what the purpose of their meeting could ever be. She felt it to be a meeting of which one would be unable to forget.

Somehow, she had managed to invite him to dinner tomorrow evening as a way of giving thanks. For all she knew, he did not eat much, he appeared to be a man of limited means. Perhaps she felt sorry for him. Deep down, she knew that it was simply an excuse to see him again, a way to give her appreciation whilst in better spirits.

Glancing at the broken skin from the crab-fork, she ignored the sting and went to touch the collection of bits and bobs upon her vanity table, a soft tune playing from her music box. She skipped past the tablets that had been prescribed to 'calm' her, to 'soothe' her melancholia and make her 'beside herself with joy'. Instead, she picked up her dainty hand mirror and she looked at her reflection intently. She was seventeen. She was hardly out of her childhood and yet she felt decrepit at that moment. So weary, as though by knowing her future she had no use for energy and enthusiasm.

However, as soon as she thought of the man who had saved her, she felt and saw her cheeks glowing, and something twinkled in her eyes. The first time her downtrod eyes had fully met his exuberant ones, she had felt something stir in her the pit of her belly, something which fluttered about almost like a butterfly that had been set free.

Recalling the dim light of the decks, she thought about how strikingly blue they had been. He had dazzled her and now, upon examining the situation, she wondered if that was the reason that she had struggled to focus on anything else since as soon as he had arrived. If she had truly wished to jump, in her heart, would she not have done it anyway?

Rose heard a knock at her door and wiped the mirror before gently placing it back onto the dressing table, casting her gaze into the larger vanity mirror in front of her to see who was entering. Cal stood in the doorway. As the door opened, he leaned against the frame casually.

Once dressed for bed, his usual tactic was to bid her goodnight, spend a few minutes in her presence, then remind her that if she wished to come to his cabin, then she would be welcome.

"I know you've been melancholy," he said gently, "I don't pretend to know why you ventured out onto the ship so late at night without an aid," he continued, ''that shall not happen again, do you hear me, Rose?''

Rose was silent, her eyes locked onto him through the mirror. He entered the room, closing the door behind him to ensure thorough privacy. He walked over and pushed her music box out of the way, sitting down on the edge of her dressing table. The music halted abruptly, taking with it any pleasant thoughts that she had encountered since listening to the peaceful tune, including her examination of the events of the evening, comparing the contents of her mind with it.

''I wish that instead of taking walks upon the deck, alone, in the cold, and almost, apparently falling overboard, that you would come to me. Do you know how it made me feel when a man like him returned you to me, as though you were a dog that had gone missing from the pound?''

Rose supposed she didn't care. It was maddening when a woman's own fiancé cared very little for the reason she was out there to begin with. Of course, that question never was, and never would be asked. It was blasphemous to even consider such things.

''You do not need to be outside studying marine propulsion on a parky April evening. You need to be in bed, asleep where you should be and where you assured me you were going.''

Rose remained silent, studying his approach to her. She was stiff, hoping to make it clear she would be sleeping very, not retiring to his room. Especially after she had been given a long list of instructions of what she should and shouldn't do as if she were a child, of course.

Instead he continued. "I intended to save this until the engagement gala next week, but..." He sighed, flipping open a greyish black velvet box and revealing the most beautiful yet garish necklace Rose had ever set her eyes upon. It was a fascinating shade of blue and was adorned with a glittering diamond chain. Cal continued once more, pleased that Rose was so captivated by its beauty. "I thought that tonight…" he trailed off, as Rose reached out for the necklace, her fingers brushing against the lip of the box ''tonight you may appreciate it, just that little bit more.''

Her silence was unwavering, perhaps her eyes illuminated her surprise or maybe they revealed nothing at all.

"This is a reminder of…my feelings for you." Cal grinned superciliously. He was back on top now, she supposed that he would believe. She would let him think she was enthralled by the gift, and would therefore be enamoured with him once more, just as she had become during the beginning of their courtship.

That could not be any further from the reality of how she really felt.

''Is it a diamond-''

Cal cut her off. ''Yes.'' He leapt from the table with glee, and grinning with pleasure, he placed the necklace around his fiancée's exposed neck, her stomach curdling. "Fifty-six carats to be exact," he explained, "It was worn by Louis XVI. They called it Le Coeur de la Mer…"

"The Heart of the Ocean," Rose translated, interrupting her fiancé. Her mother would be beside herself if she knew that Cal had given her such a token of affection. She could not help but wonder at his true reason for giving it to her. A reminder of his feelings for her? Did he truly love her this much? Or was he simply trying to buy her love with lavish gifts? Rose could not tell, but she was fascinated by the blue diamond.

She touched it gingerly with the tips of her dainty manicured fingers, half thinking that it would disappear and be her imagination. Cal locked eyes with hers in the reflection of the mirror. She stared right back at him, trying her damn hardest to feel something of affection for him, but she couldn't feel a single thing towards him but resentment. The twinkle from her eyes was gone, and the butterflies in her belly had turned to acid.

He believed that he could truly be the master of her universe, the centre of her life, the only person that she would ever love. It was almost laughable, really, bordering pitiful.

"It's overwhelming," she said in a rather unenthusiastic tone. Cal either ignored it or was completely blind to it. As amazing a gift as this was, her melancholia refused to let her become more animated. She was feeling quite apprehensive, and not just by the burdensome, expensive diamond weighing heavy around her neck. His stare made her feel fearful of what else could transpire this evening between the two of them. The lust evoking from his smoky, almost coal like eyes had almost burnt her.

"You know…there is nothing I couldn't give you, Rose."

She knew he was speaking of materialistic goods for that was all he could ever offer her, and that wasn't entirely his fault, it was simply their upbringing and he didn't know any other way.

She found that Mr. Dawson wandered back into her mind and how the blue of the stone seemed to match the intensity of his eyes. Suddenly, she was drawn into the mirror, her eyes fixated onto the stone. Fixated on him; how had those kind eyes filled her entire universe upon that single first stare? Why was it suddenly now about someone else, to the point not even her thoughts could stay still?

"There's nothing I'd deny you." Cal trailed on.

Rose looked at him, waiting for the 'but' or the 'if'. He turned from the mirror, finishing admiring her delicate beauty in such a virginal colour, looking at her directly. Her breasts felt heavy, her throat closing, her breathing turning to a pant as her chest tightened. It was not from the heat of the moment but from the opposite.

At times, she felt as though she could panic herself into such a frenzy that she had fainted when Cal was about. She had been brought round once or twice by smelling salts and it was thought that her hysterics would be treated by medication. It could not. Nothing could make her feel better, not even the great Caledon Hockley and the power of his money, steering her towards their destiny which would bound them together, for all eternity.

"If you would not deny me." There it was.

His eyes implored her for something, they seemed to radiate something frightening. Outside, he held composure, but those dark eyes showed he was some sort of animal inside. The heat emitting from them was intense. It was lust. It was a desire. It was conveyed in such a way that he was not even asking. He was telling her silently that he deserved some sort of reward. The sort of reward which was found between her legs and not in her heart or her mind. He wanted to sate a desire that he had been building silently between them for months, building for himself and not for her.

"Open your heart to me, Rose," he mused, his arm on her shoulder, nudging her slightly. The exhaustion of the melancholia settled over her, sending her into the dream-like state of which she floated through life most days. She was almost an outsider looking in, watching herself from afar like a moving picture. ''I want you to open everything to me, so that I know you better than anyone ever has or will. I want to crawl between the sheets with you and be the first and only, forever.''

The heart which he was so intent on her opening seemed to be intently closed, surrounded by a fortress of ice. Was it her soul he was after exposing or just her body? Some nights since their engagement he had implored with her to stay with him, but there had always been a way to decline, somehow. The doors to her adjoining room would remain locked for as long as she could after he returned to his bed chambers; hopefully until after the wedding. One should expect a husband to visit her rooms frequently after that, and there would be no denial of sating, whatever he felt, but now, she still had a choice at least.

Cal leaned in and moved his lips onto hers. She was expecting it. She was dreading it, but guilt made her defenceless. He lifted her from her chair, kissing her deeply. She hardly returned the kiss for she hadn't even known how to. Did lips move at all or in a practised fashion? Perhaps it would be something one became accustomed to over time.

The kiss was not full of promise, love, nor affection. It was naut, rather than a pair of soft flesh feeling warm against hers, she felt absolutely cold. She attempted to appear grateful but faltered. She struggled to feel the need of his kiss, how his lips moved against hers weren't like the tender wings of a butterfly, fleeting and tender, but rather like the sting of a wasp, painful and cruel. It was as though he was squeezing, kneading and pulling at her and wordlessly requesting for her to join him in his throes of lust, revelling in the depths of burning desire when she felt as though she had actually fallen off the back of the ship, into the ice cold void.

The feel of his lips made her rigid, tense and rattled. His gluttonous hands wandered downwards to the exposed skin atop her nightdress and found her breasts, where he began kneading in the most uncomfortable way. It was the sound of desperation erupting from him that caused her to turn away, hastily. She panted to catch her breath, it was though Cal had sucked the absolute last remains of her life force away, leaving just an empty carcass, a shell, a girl who would be devoid of any sentiment.

''Good gracious,'' she gasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, dispelling any wetness he had left there as though it was poison. His hands took their time to leave her breasts, but they left an ache behind, not one of longing, but rather a painful reminder. If he had gripped any harder she was certain there would have been bruises .

The kiss may have whet his appetite for lust, but any small notions of lovemaking Rose had found herself pondering of what they could partake in once married, had disappeared and now only left a deep pit of dread. She could not allow this man access to her body, could she?

''Indeed.'' Cal placed a single finger, tracing it across the back of her neck, before parting her curls and unclasping the necklace. "I know that you feel what I do." Immediately, Rose felt the relief of freedom, still gasping for air after his kiss. He had pressed his lips to hers once or twice before, but never that intense. Never so hungrily. Tears sprang to her eyes, as her womanhood was no doubt in sight, and soon he would relish in creating a woman of her, giving her his seed and perchance, with it, a child.

She shivered inwardly, completely devastated by the fact that she had not jumped after all, saving herself from further misery. These were the reminders of what had drawn her to hanging off the stern in the first place.

''I am elated that you are delighted with the gift.'' Cal wrapped his hands about the necklace, allowing himself to become hypnotised by the sparkle momentarily before placing it back within the confines of the velvet box.

As Rose watched the glittering sapphire colour disappear, she was taken back to the stern. She remembered how she was pinned beneath the same sapphire intensity in the eyes of a man; a complete stranger. Her heart race accelerated and she placed her palm at the flat of her chest as it pumped wildly. Why could she seem to only think of him? Why did he possess her in this way? Of all people, a man she couldn't even say she knew.

''Why did you invite that gutter rat to dinner?'' Cal asked, darkly, his mood had shifted, as though he had sensed her thoughts.

Rose's eyes joined his in the mirror. ''Because he saved my life and I should like to repay the debt.''

''He shall not come, he will be torn into pieces if the vultures get their claws into him.''

''I am sure that he can hold his own weight.''

Truth be told, she prayed that he did. Prayed with all of her heart that he would come and ruffle the feathers of society.

''He is nothing more than filth, Rose, I forbid him to come.''

''Well, I appreciated his help this evening.'' With newfound confidence, she rose from her upholstered chair, raising her chin she glanced to the door, hoping that Cal would be leaving very shortly.

It was already inappropriate for him to visit her room at this hour before they were wed. She also did not wish to elaborate more into her reasoning for inviting the stranger to dinner. To be fair, yes, it was impulsive, and on the face of it, quite rash. She truly came up with the idea on the spot and would not back down from her decision now. Not for Cal's satisfaction. He would not win.

''I think I shall retire. Today has been exhausting, the excitement of the evening, and the voyage has taken its toll on me.''

''Yes, it certainly has.'' Cal agreed, ''Sleep sweetpea, and ensure that you're bright for tomorrow.''

As Cal approached, he leaned in to kiss her cheek, ever so lightly. Even with her eyes closed, Rose couldn't bring herself to relish in his nearness but feel her blood run cold once more.

As soon as he had retired to his bedchamber, a longing look in his eye, she briskly crossed the room and locked their adjoining doors.

Gently brushing her curls before settling into bed, she caught her reflection in her mirror once more. She felt the colour return to her world again, even if it was just for a little bit.

Setting down her hair brush she absent-mindedly placed her hand upon heart once more and felt how it simply refused to settle. How it thrummed within her chest and her ears. It was almost as loud as the propellers which churned the waves below, carrying her closer to New York.

Enveloped by her bed minutes later, Rose closed her eyes and found herself drifting to sleep almost right away as a strange serenity came upon her, as though she was cradled by the strangers warm arms once more. Her cheeks grew flush at the thought of him, her eyes fluttering closed.

She would see him again. Not just tomorrow evening at dinner, but in her dreams, for a very long time. Seeing as he seemed to have been the only one to end her slow suffocation, even just for those fleeting moments at the stern of a ship just moments before she was about to end her life.

He had showed up just in time.