Let me be the first to tell you that I have a bad memory. Terrible, in fact. So feel free to doubt any dialogue that comes about, or even some events here and there (I will be sure to point them out to you...if I remember).

There was a gorgeous boy...but isn't there always one? And a lovely girl, if one could call her scarred mind beautiful. And then there's me, the younger sister of the lovely girl, the one no one noticed.

That's good, I suppose. That beings out a kind of balance in the world. A girl who can remember no one is remembered by no one. If No One was a person, he and I would get along well, I think.

Oh, there i go again, forgetting with whom I'm speaking. You are not my younger brother, who always gazes into the distance and pretends he's listening.

And you are not my older sister, one of the main characters in my story. She simply reminds me, kindly, that I should get back on track...used to. I keep forgetting.

Now the boy...oh, him i could never forget. And I think the first time I ever saw him, high up on a table, with sweat on his brow and fire in his blue eyes...I don't think I will ever forget that sight. It was a sight of true, pure life, a sight of unmeasurable beauty. I don't think anyone in that room ever forgot that sight of him.

My sister surely didn't, because that was the night she interrupted him. Stopped him dead cold in the middle of a word. The boy was traveling between French and another language, perhaps Latin. That is what they teach up in their fancy universities, I assume.

And my sister, with her harsher French of the darker side of Paris, stood up, pointed a thin finger at his angelic face, and told him "You are wrong."

I don't think that boy has ever been wrong before. Or if he was, no one told him so, because the look on his face was one of pure disbelief. This part I am positive about, because I had never seen, and don't think I ever will see, something change quite so quickly as his face had in that moment.

The spark of life flared up into a full-fledged blaze, and he began speaking again, him and my sister at the same time. I'd snuck in behind her earlier, curious as to know where she'd been getting to during the day. Words flew between them like rocks on an avalanche, unstoppable and chaotic, and yet I couldn't take my eyes off of them. If there is one scene I never want to forget, it is the one where the darkness and the light molded to become a single entity.

Her shadows had followed her into the room, merging and molding and fusing. She'd lived in them, curling them around her like a blanket as she watched, eyes darting around the room before coming to rest upon the one man she became a shadow for.

But dear Marius Pontmercy was as oblivious as usual, and I remember hearing something or other about a blond girl...I remember that she had blond hair because my sister's eyes had instantly moved to the boy atop the table, whose hair was a blond as the sun.

I do not blame her. With his hair aflame and his eyes alight, he captured everyone's gaze...except perhaps Marius's.

In any case, what happened was an explosion that seemed to rock the entire Cafe, and all the hearts that inhabited it. He threw words at her I did not understand and do not remember, while she attacked using motions and the harsh language of the streets. I am not sure how long the debate went on, but everyone left the Cafe that night feeling drained. Eponine saw me in the corner and pulled me out of there, complaining the entire way home about the thoughtless boy and his stupid words.

I don't think it was love. Not yet. But I definitely remember her mentioning something about his blue eyes. His passionate blue eyes.

Eponine's newest progress with love was much more interesting to observe than old men who couldn't keep a steady hand on their wallets. I took to following her around, slinking with the shadows and learning their ways. She had always been a better thief than I, and if caught, I guess I could've made up a story about learning from her methods, about trying to better myself in the ways of the outlawed.

In my mind, it was love. I am not sure what it was in hers. Maybe a caring soul. Maybe something more.

As it happens, she never caught me. I suppose there was more darkness in me than I'd thought. She began speaking with the boy more and more after his meetings. I would stay behind the door, ready to run if she spotted me.

I caught the boy's name as she spat it out from between her lips, followed by arguments of blood and the streets. He never threw her name at her. Her name escaped as a gentle whisper of wind, a calming breeze that always made a small smile appear on her lips. I couldn't help but wonder if his lips were as soft as his voice, if his hands were as kind.

They began leaving the cafe together, banter and words floating from their mouths and mingling in the cold night air. My heart grew chilled as I followed, and one day it froze altogether. How dare my own sister abandon me for some blond bourgeois boy? How dare she leave me behind, cold and shivering on the streets as his arm wove around her shoulders, as his fingers left trails in her hair?

How could she leave me behind with nothing to hold onto, even as she held the boy's arm greedily and never let go?

All around me, love floated and sprung from the shadows, as they left me alone to fight the darkness. My sister, my dearest companion, had succumbed to the golden boy's light. Enjolras. Even his name sounds like angel, a pure heavenly being, beautiful in every aspect.

I remember seeing them under the moonlight at one point. Her hair shimmered and flowed as his caught the moonlight and kissed it. They stopped about halfway down the silent street. I saw him take her hand.

They whispered. They had been whispering for a while, shouting and fighting far behind them. Their conversations were done in almost complete silence, as if a third being was hovering over their shoulders, watching their mouths as they spoke, watching them...

His hair suddenly blocked out the moonlight and it shined solely on Eponine's face, giving it a skeletal look. I could only see the outline of Enjolras' face, a black shape created by the light shining behind it.

She leaned forward, just a bit, and soon both of their faces were outlined by the moonlight, the light and the dark in perfect harmony.

I didn't see him kiss her. I didn't bother to stay and watch. I had seen my sister fall in and out of love and then saunter boldly back in with her head held high. I was jealous of her courage. I still am, I suppose.

I do not know what they did that night. I do not wish to know. All I know for sure is that that night is a blur of darkness and shadows, intermingling in my sight and pulling me further and further into their arms.

I saw her the next day. I remember squinting in the bright sunlight as I stared up at her, tall and proud with the rest of the boys. I remember the date.

It was the morning of June 6.

There was a funeral that day. I flitted through the crowd, spotting the boys scattered throughout. My sister stood beside some of the boys, her long black hair hidden under a tan cap. Perhaps Enjolras had told her to stay away. I expect he would. I never paid much attention to the big words he used in his speeches, but I could tell how much he cared for his friends. He never showed it on his face, but I could tell by the way he relaxed around them, talking with them or reprimanding them. They were all his brothers.

But Eponine was not one of his brothers. I guess he saw her as fragile, a delicate piece of glass that had been broken and awkwardly glued back together.

My sister was anything but fragile. If she wanted to go somewhere, she did, with no fear alive in her eyes. But I wish she had stayed home that day.

I wish she had fallen for Enjolras the way she'd fallen in love with Marius. Perhaps then she would've stayed at home...

The funeral was held on a cloudy day. It seemed like God was staring down at all of us, his pathetic little toys that make up pretty words and try to bring order about with chaos.

The hearse neared to where I saw Enjolras was standing, his blonde hair and marble features prominent in the daylight. I wondered what was going through his mind.

Was he thinking of the impending revolution? Or of Eponine, and if she was safe at home? I hope he was thinking of my sister. He would've been the first in a long while to think of her with pure love.

Then, all of sudden, it began. Enjolras jumped out of the crowd and began waving his red flag. The hearse was overthrown.

The crowd pushed and pulled me in every direction, screaming and shouting as one. My sister's cap fell off at one point and her long black hair tumbled out onto her shoulders. My eyes darted around, looking for Enjolras among the people, but he was already at the growing barricade.

When I looked back, my sister had thrown her cap back on. She was a gamin once more.

I followed the tan cap through the swarm of people, and ended up behind the barricade. Enjolras stood and mounted a flag at the top, for everyone to see. He may have been fighting for a Republic, but in that moment, he looked like a king to me, all golden and royal. The sun looked on, as if it was watching out for its own son. I forgot, sometimes, that he was human. I forgot that he was mortal.

The shooting was the worst. I had always been a coward, and watching young men bleeding out around me did not help. There was just so much noise, and my ears and head started to ache and fight about who was hurting more. Yelling, shouting, screaming, furniture clattering upon the ground.

I was able to scramble over to the side and hide beside the Cafe Musain. A little boy ran past me, eyes bright in excitement. My own eyes widened as I recognized my little brother, the one who could never sit still and listen for very long.

It appeared as though Enjolras had gotten through to even him. That boy was most certainly gifted with words.

As Gavroche's shaggy hair vanished, Eponine's tan cap reappeared. Everyone just became a massive blur after that, with shooting and shouting.

The blur executed a man at one point, I think. I remember a scuffle, and then a gun shot right next to my hiding spot. A gun was shot by a man I had never seen, but he seemed to be pointing it towards the heavens. Perhaps he simply wanted to avenge the people and punish God.

Nighttime fell. The barricade still stood. I remained where I was, crouched down beneath the barrels. I didn't dare try to escape. I am a coward, remember?

For a moment, I noticed how Enjolras' gaze landed on Eponine. She was staring at Marius with a strange look in her eyes.

I couldn't help but notice that Enjolras was looking at her the same way.

I felt something wet trail down my cheek. Even amidst all of the blood and fighting, love lingered in the air, leaving its musky scent as a pathway to salvation.

So where was mine?

I had mentioned earlier than I was and am a coward. Perhaps I should also mention that I am jealous. I do not know who you are, or if you are even paying attention to anything I am saying. But I feel like I can trust you. I have told you this much already. I may as well finish the tale.

It began with fire. The shooting started up again, and I covered my eyes, unwilling to see more blood upon the ground. But as suddenly as it'd begun, it stopped. I opened my eyes to see Marius on the barricade, with a torch in his hand. He spoke to the man in the uniform for a moment before backing down. It was then that I noticed the fallen form on the ground.

I can't remember moving. I can't even remember making a sound. But I do remember feeling something fall in my chest, something heavy. It landed in the pit of my stomach and bounced around, punching me mercilessly.

I saw a tan cap on the ground. I saw water falling from the sky. I saw blond hair mix with black, the gold and the shadows meeting with each other for the last time. I don't know if they kissed.

One final piece of love between the light and the darkness. I don't know where the army fits into all this. I like to think that they are all of the other colors, the ones that separate the light and the dark. But they had found a way to each other, somehow.

I felt disgusted with myself for being so jealous. But Eponine had been surrounded by love, whilst I had only her hand and the darkness for comfort. Nevertheless, I remained at the barricade.

No one ever noticed me. But I noticed everything from that point on.

What had been a blur turned into distinct shapes. There was a boy with a bottle in his hand, black hair a mess on his head. There was a boy with glasses, and a boy who used his rifle like a cane one time.

There was a boy who drew in the dirt with a stick during one moment of piece. There was a boy with a notebook. He read a poem out loud once, and I felt my heart fluttering out to greet his. Perhaps that is what love felt like.

But as all poems must end, so did the ballad of his life. One by one they fell, boys playing against God in a never ending game of chess.

I snuck up behind the guards as they went up behind Enjolras and three other boys. Evidently, the shadows had greedily kept me in their clutches, for the boy whom I'd always seen with a bottle came up the stairs and passed by me blindly.

I couldn't hear what he asked of Enjolras, but the blond smiled and nodded.

This was not the way he'd planned to go. I was surprised for a moment that he'd found reason to smile. Then I wondered if he was happy that he would be with Eponine very soon.

I like to think that was what he thought. Even though my heart is green, I loved my sister. I never showed it, though. Our faces were always hard to see during the night.

I am glad that she was able to find someone who gave her the love she deserved.