Cal's plan was set in motion as Jack eagerly ripped open the forged letter, ready to read of Rose's day. His good mood vanished before he finished the first sentence.
Jack,
He found me. Cal found me. One minute, I was sitting in front of a warm fire, reading, and the next he was on top of me. He demanded the diamond, but I refused to give it to him.
I tried to fight him, Jack. I tried. But my attempts were pathetic and in vain. Cal beat me. And then he raped me.
He said he's giving me two weeks to give him the diamond or he'll kill me. He already took so much. I can't give him the diamond. I just can't.
Help me, Jack. Please. I love you.
Rose
Jack wasn't aware that he was crying until a tear dripped off of his face and landed on the letter. He wiped his face quickly and folded the letter, slipping it into his pocket. You left her and he found her. The pain shot through Jack like a bullet. Except that a bullet hurts less.
Help me, Jack. The words literally echoed in his head. He could hear Rose's weak voice crying out to him. How can I help her? I'm half a world away. Jack had always admired her pride, and understood why she didn't want to return the diamond. But if she didn't, Cal would hurt her again. Kill her, Jack corrected.
A thought came to the front of Jack's mind. Forget it, Jack. But he couldn't. Another voice, a stronger voice, refused to be silent. You were willing to be arrested so she wouldn't have to confess that she was attempting suicide. You risked being shot by Cal and Lovejoy. You stayed on a sinking ship to save her. You stayed in the freezing cold water and made her swear to live. You were willing to die for her.
The voice that told Jack to forget it had been completely silenced. So you break a few laws, risk jail, and help her. Jack looked at the date of the letter and saw it had been dated six days ago. Jack was grateful that the mail hadn't been delayed and Rose's letter had gotten to him quickly. Realizing he had eight days to get to Rose, he planned to leave after dark.
*****
The sixth night after the attack was when Rose's nightmares began. Up until then, she had been numb from the whole ordeal. However, when she fell asleep that night, it was only an hour later that she woke up screaming.
She lay there and cried silently then. For the longest time, she stared at Jack's side of the bed. Rose longed for him to be there with her. She reached over and touched the mattress, almost positive she could feel the imprint his sleeping body had formed after all this time.
It wasn't easy with her injuries, but Rose moved over to his side of the bed. Even though the sheets had been washed plenty since Jack left, Rose swore she could smell him when she buried her face in his pillow. She hugged the pillow close, soaking it with her tears.
Suddenly, the numbness that she had been carrying around faded away. While Rose had been aware of what happened, it simply hadn't hit her full force yet. All thoughts of Cal wanting the diamond and his threat to kill her disappeared to the back of her mind. There was one thought throbbing in her brain. Cal had raped her.
Though she tried not to, Rose began to relive the rape. Cal had straddled her, glaring at her with a hateful lust. He had been spurred on by her screams and her agony. When Rose had tried to look away, he'd hit her again, forcing her to look at him.
Cal had forced his way into her so hard she had bled. His movements tore at her, each thrust sharper than the one before. To keep her from looking away, he wrapped one hand around her throat, making breathing difficult. He kept calling her a slut and a whore, and telling her to just enjoy it.
When Cal reached his orgasm, he began to thrust harder, grunting in satisfaction. When he saw Rose's face, he laughed a little. "You know you enjoyed it, Sweetpea," he had whispered in her ear before moving away from her.
Rose shuddered against Jack's pillow, which she was clinging to tighter than before. Jack had given her a push to find her strength years ago. Rose felt like that strength was gone now, and in its place was a shame she had never known. A terrifying thought struck her, and she tried to push it away, but couldn't. Instead, she cried herself to sleep, praying that Jack would still want to be her husband.
*****
It was well after noon when Rose awoke the following day. She groaned as she rolled over. She had somehow mustered up the courage to call the doctor in town a couple days ago and allowed him to examine her. Rose didn't admit to the rape, however; she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud. She simply claimed that she had been mugged and beaten up on her way home from town. The doctor concluded that she had at least two severely bruised, possibly cracked ribs. He'd wrapped a constricting bandage around her middle, limiting her movement. It reminded Rose of a corset.
With some difficulty, she sat up. She brushed her hair from her face and took a deep breath. It hurt like hell. Rose didn't bother getting dressed for the day. It would take too long, and she'd only end up hurting more. But she did have to get up and eat something. Jack would bring you breakfast in bed. Rose shook the thought from her head. Jack's not here. You can do this yourself.
She sat at the kitchen table, nibbling on an apple but not tasting it. Her mind was focused on a happy letter from Jack. Rose got one almost every day, just as she wrote to him every day. But her latest letters weren't great. While she hadn't told him of the attack, she had told him that she'd come down with the flu and wasn't feeling up to writing.
Rose's mind returned to last night. She hadn't managed to push the thought of Jack not wanting her away. She felt as though she would never be the same. It wasn't the fear that Jack would leave her because she had been raped. It was the fear that she wouldn't be able to let Jack ever touch her again, and that would drive him away.
What is wrong with you? You know Jack better than that. He loves you. Rose squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push the voices from her head. Within a few seconds, the voices began to quiet, and then stopped altogether.
Rose finished the rest of her apple and dropped it just outside the kitchen window for whatever critter happened to wander by. A squirrel immediately scurried down a tree and over to the discarded fruit. Rose watched him for a moment, feeling envious. All squirrels had to do was build a nest in a tree, eat, sleep, and avoid the occasional car. Rape didn't exist in their world. Insane ex-fiancés were something they didn't have to worry about.
Rose remembered the last time she had felt sorry for herself. It was impossible to forget; she had been ready to jump off of the Titanic. She actually loathed the feeling of self-pity, especially since she had met Jack. More than anything, Rose wanted to go into town and visit the bookstore, or even get a loaf of fresh bread from the grocer. But the words in books weren't absorbed in her brain, and no matter what she ate, it tasted like sawdust. She made do with a well worn copy of Sense and Sensibility and salted pork from the pig Jack had butchered over the summer.
The squirrel ran back up the tree, apple core in its mouth, and Rose turned away from the window. She tried to tell herself that she didn't need a bath, but it was a lost argument. She had bathed just the night before. But just like the night before, she still felt filthy, despite having bathed that morning. Rose always scrubbed until her skin was red, but the feel of Cal's hands on her just wouldn't go away.
Rose double-checked all the doors and window, making sure they were locked before going into the bathroom. Taking a bath wasn't an easy task, but Rose managed to do it without causing herself further injury. Even though the doctor had advised against taking off her constrictive bandage, he had shown her how to remove and replace it herself. After removing everything, she stepped into the tub and gingerly lowered herself. The warm water worked wonders on her sore muscles, but that was the only silver lining for Rose. Grabbing the soap and a washcloth, Rose began to scrub her skin as furiously as she could.
*****
Jack never noticed that the letter from Rose had been postmarked in Madison, Wisconsin, not Chippewa Falls. He just tossed it in the small bag he was taking with him. Things had been quiet in the barracks that night, and Jack was careful not to make a sound as he crept out. A full moon overhead was a good thing, since it gave him light. He had a decent amount of woods to walk through, so he was less worried about being spotted.
Luck was with him, as it was only twelve miles to the Atlantic Ocean. Jack walked as fast as he could, not wanting to trip over a fallen log or bring attention to himself in any way. Fortunately, the nights were longer this time of year, giving him more time.
It was just before dawn when Jack reached the docks at the coast. Workers were out and about, but he stayed out of sight. He ducked between some shipping crates, listening carefully to the conversations being held.
"Only injured troops are heading home on the ship."
"How long of a trip will it be for them?"
"About five days, possibly six."
Jack realized it was his best shot at getting home, possibly his only shot. He remained hidden, waiting for a clear shot to sneak on board.
*****
The phone on Cal's desk rang. He threw down the pen and pushed the contracts aside to answer it.
"Hockley."
"Well Mr. Hockley, as you predicted, Private Dawson has gone missing." Cal smiled to himself when he heard the news. He glanced at the clock and decided that even though it was before noon, the news deserved a drink.
"Any ideas as to where he might be?" Cal filled his glass with bourbon. He swirled the liquid in his glass before taking a sip.
"Well, he was where he was supposed to be the other night, and now he's gone. Only one ship has left the docks bound for America. The Carpathia is due in New York in four days, possibly five, depending on weather conditions."
The Carpathia? How poetic, Cal thought to himself. "So, it's likely he's on there," Cal said, more to himself than his connection on the phone. "Call me if you have any more news," he ordered before hanging up.
Cal walked over to the window and looked out. He had told Rose she had two weeks before he came after her again. Cal had called in favors owed to him, and worked with his various connections to get the letter to Jack quickly, but it had still taken some time. And it would take some time for Jack to get home as well.
Wait a second, Cal thought suddenly. If Rose is as naive as I think she is, if I don't show up, she will completely let her guard down. He smirked to himself. How beautiful. A reunion between a rat and his whore. Cal downed the last of his drink. A reunion that I will destroy in the worst way possible. Now, that is poetic.