The Barricades were a haunting place to be. The smell of fired guns and blood clung inside your nostrils, and the air was so heavy and thick from smoke you couldn't breathe correctly. The Barricade was being blown into shards by cannons. Little by little the barricade decayed into nothing. The national guard was seizing in on us now defenseless schoolboys who had run out of ammo. Throwing anything we could to prolong our lives by just minutes at most. The feeling of death grew stronger and nearer and the men lifted their rifles. They showered us with bullets. The horror-stricken faces of my friends haunt me as the bullets pierce their fragile bodies. Their blood splattered on the pavement like rainfall. I was left standing. I could see the wounds that the national guard's ammo left in me, yet I felt no pain. I could see the blood dripping slowly, and constantly, yet I felt no consequences of these wounds. I just looked at the faces of my friend's murders as the stormed past me as if I didn't exist. Up the stairs the guard went, with their clattering shoes pounding on the steps with their pistols and rifles at hand. I just stood their staring at the lifeless faces of friends, my face running with silent tears. The street was quiet, and remained that way for far to long. Then one last shot rung throughout the stillness.
…
That is when I woke. I sat up and dragged myself from behind the bar. I had no conception of where I was. I peered into the street and was mortified. I saw the thick maroon liquid acting as small rivers down the street. There on the street laid mangled corpses of my friends and those who had belief in our cause who just the hours ago sang, drank and cheered to life. I felt the guilt build in myself. I felt the heavy, smoke filled air get stuck in my throat, never reaching my lungs. I should have died along side them. I should have been their to at least try and protect these men who I knew from the beginning were goners.
Take aim!" is all I heard from the floor above me. Someone still was alive? If they were they weren't for long. I struggled to take a grasp on something to pull myself. My binge drinking with absinthe hours ago did not help to keep my balance in check. "Do you wish to have your eyes bandaged?" asked the same voice I heard before. "No." replied a voice I would never forget. The voice of the only man who I ever had any thread of belief in. The man who had exiled me and scorned me. Enjolras survived. This only made me panic to get up even more. My hand grasped endlessly for anything to help get me up. ""Was it you who killed the artillery sergeant?" said the guardsman. "Yes." was Enjolras's prompt answer. His voice projected confidence, yet I could clearly detect the fear running rampant in his voice. With a firm grasp on a table, I scattered to force my aching body to stand upright. I found my legs trudging to slowly up the battered stairs for my liking. I entered to a silent room filled with the national guard and Enjolras. They had not heard my drunken stumbling up the stairs and focused at aiming guns on Enjolras. "Take aim!" yelled the guard again. My heart stopped. My brain felt disconnected from the reality before me. I wasn't any more in control over myself anymore then then if I was under the influence of alcohol. The adrenaline had clouded every judgment that crowded my throbbing head. It overpowered my want to flee this scene. Enjolras's face revealed his hatred towards the men in front of him. As the men as seemed eager to open fire on the lonely man who lost everthing and everyone, I couldn't stand staying silent. "Long live the Republic! I'm one of them." I articulated and proudly announced. The heads of the guards turned towards me with of hatred and suprise. The glares of the men who all bore firearms, that screamed that my death was near, did not have an effect over me. The slight upturned corners on Enjolras's lips effected me. On record of my memory, I never recall a smile on the face of Enjolras that was directed towards me.
"Long live the Republic!" I again proudly stated as I clumsily stalked to Enjolras's side. His eyebrow raised at the sight of my standing protectively infront of him. I turned my head and gave him a small sympathetic smile, then faced the guard. "Finish both of us at one blow," I demanded. My voice was pleading but full of a fiery anger. They had guns pointed at the man whom I call my idol. Again I glanced back at Enjolras, I now noticed his hair was glued to his forehead and neck by dried blood and sweat. His clothes were torn and had blood splatters in various places. He looked as if he had been to hell and back, yet that faint smile my idol's face held proven his change of heart towards me. I couldn't be anymore content. I softly spoke to Enjolras, as I knew all eyes were on us, "Do you permit it?" The feeble smile turned to a grin. It was an uttermost pleasure to die this way. With honor. With gaining respect from the one you never had an ounce of doubt in. While thoughts of honor and respect ran through my mind unbridled, I barely felt the sensation of Enjolras's hand grasping for mine. I took a quick glance and saw his hand interlaced with mine. The dried blood on his hands and fingers contrasted the pale clean skin of mine. He slowly scanned from our conjoined hands to my eyes in a broad grin. I cannot say the same for Enjolras, but I know when I turned to face the guards, my smile did not fade. There was no moment in my life that has made me happier. The firing of the guns just intensified the joy in me, knowing that Enjolras's agreed to die by my side. My last sight was Enjolras's lifeless corpse, with eight massive caliber wounds bleeding profusely. He was propped against the wall as if nails held him in place. I was laid dying at his feet, with my last breath, I couldn't help but admire how his face still held that grin.