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Red Roses In December was inspired by the movie Titanic and the Disney story, Cinderella. Uniting them together to give the fanfiction the romantic strain of Titanic (the 1997 movie, Kate Winslet, and Leonardo Dicaprio), and the love story of Cinderella.

I do not claim the outline of the characters, for I know they are not mine, but I claim the different situations, meaning, situations you do no recognize, as my own. Yes, I admit, a lot of the situations that will be taking place in the Fanfiction will be very similar to those of Titanic and Cinderella. Again, I do not take the credit.

Summary: “A Journey of a Thousand Miles, Begins With a Single Step.”

All my life I lived from one social scandal, to another. Dressing up in diamonds and pearls, with fancy dresses, and perfectly curled hair. It became so regular, that the familiar smash of fine china didn’t cause a heart rush in me, that the same meal consistently started to bother me. It was the social life of a young, wealthy maiden, betrothed to a man set to inherit millions.

I was what any well, brought up lady should be. Classy, sophisticated at seventeen, tall, slender, seen but not heard. I had no voice of my own. I was what I was told I was, and I said what I was told to say. I had no way out, no body to rescue me from my nightmare. I had Victor, but he was only there to keep me sheltered, if I bared his children. I didn’t want to be like my mother. Told to love a man she never could, until she was finally reduced to give in, and pretend.

My life was a lie… My emotions fake, rehearsed. I was just one living stage act after another… Until he saved me from my lies. From Victor. From my mother. From myself.

Red Roses in December *
“Trying to be someone else is a waste of the person you already are.”

Love never lasts forever. It’s just a silly little thing Like-struck fools say to their liked ones. ‘I’ll love you forever’, when forever never ends.

I was what any woman would want her daughter to be. Tall, slender, not to sarcastic, and not to sweet. But there was yet, one quality I possessed that my mother so dearly hated. Compassion. Compassion towards the people who needed compassion the most. I presented a formal image, but on the inside, I was screaming, and yet no one could hear me. I yearned for the day someone would finally hear my screams. The screams I had so ever-longingly wanted to let people hear.

The formal society I was brought up in was tough on a young lady. The same social scandal after another. The same mindless people, with the same mindless chatter. The weather, politics, and gossip. I didn’t want to thrive on this life anymore; Petunia on the other hand, lived for it.

I was already set to marry the most dreadful man a lady could ever be betrothed too. Mother said it was because we were slowly going bankrupt, and Victor was already set to inherit millions. I was the modern Cinderella, living a very modern nightmare.

Victor found me very hard to impress. I was as blunt as I could possibly be. I hated everything anyone ever tried to do for me. I wanted out of my social nightmare. I’d only been home two and a half months, and I was already yearning to head to my new school, where I could spread my wings for ten months, and then go back to my Formal ways for the rest of eternity.

“Lillian, dear, do tell me how you’re year abroad at that Boarding School of yours was,” Mademoiselle Bertha Lairing said, her pearls clanking against her champagne glass.

“Oh, it was lovely, thank you.” I replied quietly, looking at a man over her shoulder across the room. The glint of his blue eyes caught my own. Returning my gaze back to Mademoiselle Lairing, I smiled politely.

Chapter One: Part One: Social Scandals

It was lifeless inside the Ball Room of the London Villa. The reds, the ivories, gold’s, silvers, it tore at my retinas, trying to hypnotize me into what everyone wanted me to be. What I needed to be. It made me breathless to watch all these people mingle with each other, knowing they’d rather rip their hearts out of their chests, and make them swallow it.

I turned, red curls splashing against my neck, as Victor wrapped his arm around my waist, tugging me against him.

“You do not look very interested in this, Lillian. Are you not impressed?” Victor said, his stale breath warming my neck. “This elegant Ball is for you, were you not informed?”

I cared for Victor, I did. He would keep me safe from the bitter colds in the winter; keep me cool and safe from the summer sun. He’s what I wanted. What I needed. What my mother needed. “I am impressed, Victor,” I said, my pale hands hovering over his on my waistline.

My eyes wandered across the room, to where the pianist played ‘Hymn to the Sea’. It was so beautiful. He played it with passion, and it flowed like water in a stream.

Victor had unwrapped himself from around me, and wandered back to his Brandy and the other, elder men. I stood, lost in a blizzard, waiting to be saved from the storm. No one cared, or noticed me. I was yet another young lass, born and raised into this society, and that’s how I was to die. I didn’t want to die like all the rest. I wanted to live. To be free. To know what it was like on the other side of having money.

I screamed, yet no one could hear me. No one even noticed. I was just another face in this wealthy crowd. I could be as unhappy as I wanted, and yet no one would notice. We were all so fake… So untrue to everyone else. Stuck in our game of dress up, and pretend. We’d been doing it for so long, that everyone really believed us, when we lied and told them we were French, or Italian, or maybe even Irish. The irony of all the lies never caught on to anyone, and so I screamed. Maybe for a light, maybe for someone to hymn to me, tell me everything was going to be all right. Maybe I screamed for guidance out of this social circle. I don’t know, but I screamed, and yet no sound came out. I was lost. So I screamed again. Nobody even turned their heads.

I fanned myself with my hand gently, before turning to face my mother, socializing with the same persons as the week before. She laughed courteously; resting a lace gloved hand over her long, dangling pearls. She was beautiful in her own, more mature way. I felt like a child around her. A child that needed to be scorned. I scorned myself for thinking the way I did, each and every waking moment I lived. Why couldn’t I lie to myself, the way she could lie to herself? Was I not manipulated enough?

“Lillian, dear, come here,” my mother cooed, motioning me forward. “Have you met Ruth Daniels? She’s of the Witherspoon Daniels, you know, dear.”

I smiled politely, folding my hands below my stomach, as I stood staring into the nothingness thru the window. “Pleased to meet you,”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Ruth Daniels said to me, her blank blue eyes screaming arrogance towards me.

I shivered at her coldness, before excusing myself from them.

My brain told me to run for it, my heart said to stay, but my throat disagreed with both: It told me to scream out. To scream for help. But my heart wouldn’t allow it, and my mind wouldn’t send the signals to my vocal box. Instead, I hurried for the terrace door. The silver knob was cold against my warmed hands, as I pushed it open, the black lace of my gown trailing behind me, as I burst into the cool, providence of London air.

I looked over the terrace rail, down beneath towards twenty-one foot drop to the hard, damp ground.

“That falls quite a long ways down, isn’t it Miss?” one of the waiters said, his silver tray rested against the five inch thickness of the rail top.

“Oh…” I said, hotly, turning to him, red curls draping over my chest, and shoulders. I looked him over, and the wealthy attitude I’d learned from the oh-so-many wealthy influences I’d had in my life came out. I was better then him. He lived to serve me. I was his superior, and he was to cater to my every need, want, and wish. I pushed away from the rail, and turned my body completely to him. “I suppose..”

He nodded at me, and turned his head towards a few other guests. “I understand. Little rich girls to important to talk to me, right? To superior?” he laughed, and grabbed his tray. “You might want to go inside, the altitude, and the cool air may give you a nose bleed.”

“You were rude!” I said after him, an attitude forming inside my heart.

He turned back to me and cocked his head to the side, resting the tray under his rib line. “Well it was a simple statement.”

“Yet you were rude about it.” The wind blew my hair across my face, and to my left. I shivered, holding my forearms in the palms of my hands.

“I’m sorry, you’re grace, would you like me to be like all of your attendants, and worship the ground you walk on?” he turned his back to me, and started to head for the other guests in the Villa Terrace.

“It would be smart of you,” I replied in a tone as cold as my body was.

“You’re right. Because I live to serve you.” I could feel him rolling his eyes at me, so I huffed indignantly.

“Are you cold, Pea-cup?” Victor asked me, as he made his way from the ballroom. He wrapped his silken tuxedo jacket around my torso, his warm arms wrapping themselves like wires around me; as he guided me back inside.

I looked up at him, and saw his eyes look at the waiter with an angered expression.

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