Dorothy

Chapter 1

"You think your Mom, but your not! Mom was nice!" Dorothy screamed at her sister across the table. The entire restaurant was staring now, but Dorothy didn't care. Didn't care.

"Don't you dare!" Her sister stood, leaning on her husband's shoulder. "You're nothing but a child. You can't take care of yourself! How can you be so selfish?"

Dorothy launched out of her chair. "You will never make a good mother! Not like she was! Nothing like she was!" Dorothy turned then and started running. Pounding away from that table. Her last glance back revealed her sister's eyes filling with tears, her husband standing to comfort her, and her hand moving toward her stomach that was just beginning to bulge.

Dorothy wished that she could run forever. Run until she dropped. Run through the whole of London. But where does one run on a leisure ship?

So instead Dorothy ran to her room and threw open the door. Her lungs were burning despite how short the run had been. Gasping, Dorothy threw herself on the bed. As her hands pummeled the mattress tears flowed hot down her face. Running down her rather round cheeks to her chin, then dripping into her curly brown hair.

Why did she have to live like this? Why had her whole life turned upside down? Why didn't she and Angelina get along anymore? Why was everything about the baby? Why was there the plague? Why had her parents died?

Why?

Why?

Why?

And still the tears flowed.

At some point the crying slowed to intermittent gulps, then died altogether. Dorothy lay on her bed, numb now. So numb. She didn't move, not for a long time, and eventually she nodded off to sleep.

The next morning came with the harsh beep beep beep of her alarm clock. Dorothy groaned, rolled over, and reached for the clock. Reached further. There it was... she could feel it... BANG! It landed on the floor. Beep beep beep. Dorothy sighed and pushed away from the bed. Scratching at her nose, she trudged over to where the alarm clock had fallen and triumphantly hit the 'off' button.

Dorothy had to stifle a scream as she turned into the bathroom. Staring back at her from the mirror was a monster! Dorothy ran her fingers over her face, as if to confirm that this monstrosity was her. Sure, she didn't look great when she woke up, but for heaven's sake her hair was a beehive! Tears had washed away streaks of foundation, and black tracts were added where mascara had come down. Dark circles and rumpled clothes completed the look. Not to mention that her breathe was so bad she could taste it!

Forty-five minutes and a complete makeover later, Dorothy's button-activated door slid open to reveal other vacationers heading to breakfast. After a moment of consideration, she opted against it. Grabbing an apple off one of the hall trays, Dorothy headed toward the docks. She needed a break.

She needed a podship.