Rose Dewitt Bukater
I wish I could ask someone about it. I wish I could get away and meet someone new who could help me—someone who lived in a far, isolated place that I could walk to. And I’d want that walk to be beautiful. Maybe this person lives at the end of a large forest or something, or at the top of the tallest mountain, so that the walk is about an hour long and I’d have nothing else to do but enjoy nature and clear my head. Maybe that’s all I really need. Then when I got there tea would be ready, and my dream person would stare at me with wide, caring eyes, and I’d ask, quite nonchalantly, “what is suicide like?” And they wouldn’t look at me like I was insane.
They’d answer. They’d tell me it was good, and worth it, or bad. End of story.
She had started calling it ‘The New World’ sometime that afternoon. She likes the way it sounds--adventurous, promising, and exciting…everything she’s ever wanted in life all wrapped up into one little phrase. Ironically enough, America, the one Titanic is going to, was once referred to as the same thing. Yet currently it promises the exactly opposite—unchanging imprisonment with not a single chance at freedom.
The way Rose sees it she has two options. The first will take a bit more work, but she’s had tons of time to look it over. So after several hours of plotting and planning, checking her devious little scheme for any possible faults, she’s finally sure that her plan is foolproof.
For a while, planning it was like a game. A way to keep focused on something long enough to prevent the depression from enveloping her again. Never once did the thought that she was actually planning her suicide come to mind—not yet anyway. It was just something for her to do—a plan that she could feel slightly proud of when finished.
Oh God. How pathetic.
First, she’ll steal something sharp from the dining hall--a knife, most likely. She can just slip it right up her sleeve without anybody noticing. Then she’ll wait until it’s time to bathe. No one would dare disturb her then. She’ll lock the door and put a large piece of furniture in front of it on her side for extra security. Then she’ll undress, slip into the bath, and take out the knife. It won’t be a quick and easy death like jumping would be, but jumping could get her seen before she’s ready. And then what would she do?
With the knife, Rose will slash her wrists and wait until she bleeds out completely, or until she passes out from the pain, drowning in the water surrounding her. Whichever comes first.
That is unless she finds the golden locket.
That’s her second, more desired option. All she has to do is find that magic locket and slip away into her dream world without looking back. It would be that easy, even if she’s forgotten why. But she knows it’s possible and is more certain of this than she’s ever been of anything else. It’s the only reason she’s allowed herself to be hopeful.
And she is not crazy. Just thinking of this better option makes Rose grin.
Okay…she ponders; I’ve already looked in my room, and the smoking room. Where to next? Obviously it wasn’t in either of those places but Rose isn’t fazed yet. She’s got a whole ship to search and tries to look at this as a good thing. She knows it’s got to be around somewhere, probably in the most obvious place, like most misplaced things are. She just has to find it.
She has to.
And if she doesn’t?
Rose sighs and squishes her tongue around in her mouth, deep in thought. The air smells of salt, and above her seagulls cry, as if trying to tell her something.
I don’t know. Maybe I’m kind of hoping my dream person would say the whole idea of suicide is stupid. Maybe I’m hoping they’d say things will get better—and mean it. Maybe I really do want someone to tell me that I’m stupid and pathetic and whiney and that I need to man up and tackle life instead of calling it quits like a sore-loser. I’d be stubborn, of course—I always am. And there sure as hell would be a lot of ‘are you sures?” and “prove its.” But maybe I want someone stubborn—someone even more stubborn than I—to bully me out of it.
I think I’d like that a lot.
In the distance children laugh and dance and sing. Couples chatter. Mother’s coo and soothe. Somewhere miles and miles below her, swarms of fish dart around in circles and dolphins play in groups. Yet still in the sky above, seagulls let out low, dull cries as if they are lonely. Lonely, despite the company of a ship full of people—an ocean full of life. Rose knows that cry.
But I don’t have this person with a house miles away in the mountains. I don’t know if it’ll ever be okay here. If I don’t find the necklace, will it ever get better? Am I actually wise? Am I courageous for having the strength to even consider making such a big decision on my own? If my life were a game, would I be the winner by escaping forever?
Her head throbs.
I doubt this is the case. I really, really do. Rose feels pathetic and stupid and wants to kick herself. An overwhelming sense of depression swallows her whole, and suddenly all she can do is think of how bad things are. She tries to tell herself to focus, tries to tell herself to quit being so stupid and useless and pathetic but God.…Rose closes her eyes when she starts to feel warm tears threaten to cascade down her cheeks, and all she think of is marriage, Mother, and the eighty or so years she has left of unchanging misery. I don’t want to go back to that.
And then she spots the girl.
Lazily strolling the deck below, dressed finely, red curls waving in the breeze. She looks so odd, so ridiculous, with her freckled nose in the clouds and her face pinched tightly, that Rose almost laughs. Tilting her head towards the girl, she is able to catch bits and pieces of what she’s mumbling. “Nasty little beasts, they are!” The girl says this about the small third-class children playing jacks nearby. Then: “They should really do something about the accommodations on this ship!” Her thin lips are curled up into a hideous sneer. The very hairs on the back of Rose’s neck stand up as she wonders how people can be so cruel.
But it’s the glint of gold around her neck that catches Rose’s attention.
At the sight of this, everything from her current thoughts to her old thoughts from Cal to Mother to America drift away. Rose only focuses on one thing.
Dashing through the group of strolling families and giggling children, she makes her way down to the girl. Her blood boils with raw determination. She’s like a shark, an ocean wave, a bullet— she’s set her aim and now absolutely nothing can stop her.
The girl has just started to move away by the time Rose reaches the deck. Rose struggles to get ahold of her shoulder, tripping over the lacy hem of her own gown and tugging on the girl a little harder than intended.
Rose is quick to catch her breath. “I’m sorry, pardon me, but—“
“Excuse you, what on earth do you think you’re do--”
“If you could just give me—“
“You should be ashamed! Leave before I call the guards!”
Both girls fight for words. Rose straightens and takes a deep breath. She didn’t come this far to be reported by this ridiculous girl in tight lace and a pinched face.
“That necklace you’re wearing?” She lowers her sweet tone to something a tad more intimidating. Her voice drips with determination. “It’s mine.”
The girl scoffs. “No matter, it isn’t anymore. I found it just laying it around on the ground in the dining hall, of all places.” She slowly undoes the clasp and removes the locket from her neck, but she doesn’t hand it over.
Rose gives her a look fierce enough to burn holes into steel. She knows—she is certain that the locket belongs to her, and she knows that this awful girl knows it, too. By now, Rose can recognize the gold finish, smooth, rounded heart shape and thin chain from a mile away, even if she can’t remember where it came from or what exactly it's capable of. But what she does remember is what's important. She needs it to get to The New World.
Her new world.
“Alright then…” Rose begins slowly. “So you should know very well that it isn’t yours and that you should return it to me. Thank you.” Rose reaches out a hand to remove it but the girl jerks away and smiles, bringing the necklace behind her back like a toying child. She leans in real close then so that her slim face is only inches away from Rose’s own. Producing a large, hideous smirk, her words ooze onto Rose like poison. “Maybe if it meant so much to you, you should have taken better care of it. There’s really nothing I can do to help you now.”
Keep calm, Rose, keep a calm, cool head. Be rational. Be reasonable. Be—
But Rose can’t. Not with what’s at stake here, not when she’s come this far. She doesn’t have time for this. She should have already escaped this life by now. She should be strolling the beaches of her new world by now, and yet this girl is the only thing in her way. Something hot and powerful pulses through Rose’s veins and she narrows her eyes, like a snake easing in on its prey.
Rose doesn’t recall the last time she's been so angry. Not even with Cal, or her mother--not with anyone. But now, thoughts of her life suddenly come rolling back to her again, but the feelings that come with them are different. The sadness has morphed into something much fiercer—much more dangerous.
The feeling is rage.
“I’m going to give you one last chance to hand it to me,” she says slowly. Her voice is like ice—smooth, calm, and brutally cold. “Before I take it from you myself.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
Rose’s hands go flying. She grips the wrist of the girl and flips it over, exposing her pale fingers. They’re shut so tightly around the locket that her knuckles are white.
The girl screams, a high-pitched sound like a siren amongst the cheerful chatter and laughter. Rose doesn’t even notice.
One finger, two fingers…Rose sees the glint of gold glittering within the girl’s three clasped fingers. And then there’s the chain. The chain—her magic, beautiful, perfect chain. She yanks at the locket and the girl’s shrieks heighten in pitch. Soon I won’t have to put up with this type. No more Mother. No more Cal. No more devastating lack of adventure, no more imprisonment, no more dreams being slashed to nothingness. The New World will offer her nothing but security, love, and freedom. There she will wake up each morning completely unaware of what the day will bring. Her new life will be unpredictable and spontaneous. In the new world, she’ll really live. That’s all she’s ever wanted.
“Help! She’s gone mad! Please, somebody get her away!”
When Rose’s hands are tugged behind her back, she practically screams with agitation. She squirms, she writhes, she fights, but the man behind her is relentless. Even when she jabs the heal of her shoe into his foot, he doesn’t let go.
I’m so close…almost there…Freedom is only inches out of her reach.
“She’s trying to steal it!” the girl whines, her voice strained and nasal.
Those five little words are what yank her out of her dream-haze and back into reality. Guards dressed finely in blue hold her back, and no matter how hard she struggles, she can’t reach the locket. A small crowd of passers-bys have accumulated around Rose, beady eyes blazing with curiosity. Suddenly, all is quiet. All Rose can do now is fight back with words. She straightens and looks this strange girl right in her mossy, cold eyes.
“She’s a liar,” is all she can muster at first, anger seething from her words. Then: “I know that the locket is mine. She stole it from me. It’s very important from me and I need it back.” Soon…she thinks, soon I can escape…
There’s a second guard standing behind the wicked girl, smaller and thinner than his partner. He’s young, and little beads of nervous sweat glide down his temples. His face is smooth and ever-so-slightly familiar, but for a minute, Rose’s mind is too corrupted to figure out why. “Is this true?”
There was an earthquake…Rose thinks, in the new world. A strange thought enters her mind, like a disease--suddenly, without warning, and you can never be quite sure of where it came from. I was there. But…how? Her vision blurs. Her heart pounds. Suddenly, she doesn’t feel so strong.
“Of course not, you idiot! This--this girl,” she spits the word out like it’s coated in poison, “was stealing from me!”
I know him…that ship guard...we've met before....Rose knows it as well as she knows that the new world exists, and she doesn’t realize that she’s said it out loud until it’s too late. Then she has no choice but to continue. “Don’t you remember? There was an earthquake, and screaming…” She can still hear those screams, as clearly as the sky is blue. It makes her head ache. I am not crazy.
And then there was a bright light…
She watches her words hit him someplace very deep.
“Can you not see that she is crazy? Arrest her!”
Rose realizes then that the familiar guard is the one in charge. The larger one holding Rose's hands behind her back glances at him for guidance. “What should we do about this one?” he asks. He smells of cigarette smoke and his eyes are dark, like a shark’s. Yet the younger man is the one who can save or destroy her.
“Please,” she whispers.
And then there was…nothing.
That’s all she remembers of the new world.
“It only seems to be a small misunderstanding,” he says slowly. He refuses to take his eyes off of Rose’s. She knows she’s gotten to him, but his face is unreadable. The grip on her wrists loosens. “And I don’t see why any punishment is necessary.”
“Absolutely ridiculous!” the girl squeals. “Could you not see, with your own eyes, how she brutally attacked me? She was trying to kill me! I will have her arrested, I will! I will have her arrested! I simply won’t have--”
“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” That’s Cal’s voice. He enters the scene suddenly with an obvious air of authority that intimidates the others, even the girl. They’re all taken aback by Cal’s sophisticated manner and fine clothing. Rose hadn’t heard his approach. He keeps his voice low and calm, like the goings-on aren’t a big deal to him. Like Rose isn’t a big deal. “Honestly, I assure you this really isn’t something worth watching.” His tone is laced with false charm when he addresses the crowd. There must be a decent amount of wealthy spectators, otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered. “Off you go, now."
Rose doesn’t look away from the ship guard. She doesn’t watch the spectators shuffle away.
It was the locket. The locket made the earth tremble, and I need it to get back. I need it. Please.
“Do you know this woman, sir?” asks the larger guard. The people around Rose blur, and their voices begin to fade.
“She is my fiancée. Excitable one, isn’t she?”
The New World is where I belong. It’s my true home; I can be happy there. The locket is so close…almost within my grasp.
Her hand aches to feel the warm firmness of the golden heart. She thinks of the odd, familiar guard.
And I know that I am not alone.
“I see…” Rose is so entranced that she doesn’t even see the scowl playing on the girl’s thin lips at the word ‘fiancée.’ She doesn’t see her take the locket from around her back. “Well, sir, it appears as if she was a bit…misguided. You see, she claimed my necklace here was her own--”
The large guard finally releases Rose, but she doesn’t move.
“Yes, well, that’s my Rose for you. Often confused. Terribly sorry for any trouble caused, I--”
“Oh, don’t be, sir, it’s really no trouble at all! Just a misunderstanding. This ratty old thing never meant much to me, anyway. Being the person that I am, I do believe that I shall give it to her, if that’s alright.” The girl doesn’t mention pressing charges again. Turning to the guards, she adds, “I do believe you can go now. You are no longer needed but thank you for your assistance.”
Rose’s ears are ringing. Her heart is screaming with joy. She’s going to hand it over! I can go home! If Rose had taken a moment to really look at the girl, she would have seen the malice in her eyes and the wickedness in her smile. But her mind is too full of adventure on sunshiny beaches to notice any of this. Goodbye, Cal. Goodbye, afternoon tea and lacy dresses.
Rose doesn’t see the familiar ship guard sneak a glance at her over his shoulder, perhaps even a glance of recognition, before he leaves. She doesn’t care anymore.
With the locket dangling from her small fingers, the girl leans casually over to the edge of Titanic. Rose doesn’t see her slide her hand over the rail, holding the locket only yards above the ocean. Rose just stands there, completely lost in her daydream. But of course no one takes real notice of her either, not then.
Goodbye, hidden personalities and nasally, annoying voices. Goodbye false hopes and dull smiles.
With hope and happiness rolling off of her in waves, Rose finally steps forward to claim her prize.
But then, as quick as joy found her, it is gone.
"Oh, oh dear…” Of course nobody hears the plop of the locket hitting the water. “What a klutz I’ve turned into.” Anyone with eyes would be able to see the devious little smirk the girl has cast towards Rose. Any person with eyes, and sense enough to care.
Cal is not one of those people.
Perhaps he would care if the girl were a few classes, even just one class below him. But as she is clothed in fine fabrics and encrusted with shimmering jewels, he treats her, and everyone like her, as if they are royalty. Like they’re actually more important than the rest of the suffering population.
“NO!” Rose shrieks, thrusting herself toward the rail, her hair blown back by the strong, salty wind. But she’s too late. With all her might she wills her arm to be longer, to grasp her freedom.
But of the locket is long gone, and her hands grasp for nothing.
Holding the rail with both hands to steady herself, she looks down and a quiet moan escapes her lips. “No,” she says in a whimper. She’s never heard her voice—usually so loud and outspoken—take on such a devastating, animal-like cry.
“Rose, darling.” Cal's voice is distant and hazy. “I don’t recall you ever even having such a necklace. Either way, I’m sure we can find you a much nicer one. One of more value, yes?”
Rose can hardly breathe. Without the locket, she can never go home. It's as if her broken body has been shattered.
“Honestly, I feel absolutely terrible about this…” says the freckled girl.
Cal grabs Rose around the waist and tries to pull her into him, mimicking what’s supposed to be a comforting gesture.“Oh, don’t you worry about it. Rose has many more where that came from. Don’t you, darling? We’ll get you more. Better ones.”
“Don’t you touch me.” Rose rips herself away from him and casts him a hard, vicious look through tearstained eyes. Cal’s face falls. His eyes narrow. Rose knows this look, and all she wants and to do is slap him. Both of them. She wants to slap them so badly that her fingers pulse with the need.
But then the dinner bell rings and like a new tide, everything chances. Cal’s smug face regains a smug smile as he turns to walk away, and the ginger girl's face pinches with delight as she wishes him a good day and leaves. Even the few lingering passer-byes dash into the dining hall.
Only a single boy remains clinging to the rail. He stares with misty eyes at the hard slate of blue below.
All is forgotten. To everyone but Rose.
A single tear escapes the corner of his eye, traveling down a sickle-shaped scar on his cheek. He notices Rose watching and wipes it away quickly.
A small part of Rose wonders what he's lost. But really, could it be anything compared to what she'd lost?
She longs for her journal, her kitten, her grandmother. For Kate, for Uncle Guard, the locket--anything to make her feel alive again. But all these things, every last one of her little joys, have been taken from her. Plucked from her grasp, one by one.
Goodbye freedom, goodbye adventure.
The boy gives her a longer look, and, for a moment, a glimmer of hope outshines his pain. But no. "Oh," he sighs, and turns away. You're the sister."
This time, when Cal grabs her by her shoulders, Rose lets her fiancé lead her away. She is too tired to do otherwise. He’s muttering something about her hotheadedness, and her stubbornness, and her foolishness, and being late for dinner.
A sudden exhaustion has enveloped her, and it’s stronger than any fatigue she’s ever felt in her life. But she doesn't let a single tear fall. Not there, not infront of him. She swallows her anguish, holds it in and lets the feeling build inside of her like an curse burried within an ancient tomb. And in that moment she knows exactly what needs to be done.
Goodbye, New World.
On the outside, to any observer, Rose looks like everything a well-brought-up girl should be.
But on the inside, she is screaming.
Goodbye, Rose Dewitt Bukater.