To be honest, I think my life was spiralling downwards. Those stupid dreams keeps plaguing my sleep and sent me waking up startled. I'm growing tired and very frustated at this. I want my life back. I want that sense of peace that I'd had for the last four years.

I want to be able to sleep peacefully. I want to hear the sound of the waves lapping the golden sand. I want to be able to dance in the rain again, without being reminded of getting shot in the chest. I want the oblivion. I want my life back.

I always had suspicions. Suspicions of me not being my parents' real child. That they took me off the streets or something. It had always been an issue among the burgeois circle. That they had a gamine among them. Though my parents didn't seemed to be bothered in the slightest by what they has to say, I was.

I don't want them to see as if I'm a dirt staining the polished surface that is my parents' reputation. I don't want to be the one who caused them trouble. I know mama always says that I am their daughter and no one can ever change that, but somehow...it didn't sound believable to my ears.

And that's why a month later, after accidentally eavesdropping my mother's conversation with her friends in the salon, I moved to Saint Guilhem. My parents are nice people, who are nice enough to care for me even though there is a chance that I might not be their real daughter, and give me a better life.

I settled into a fairly comfortable routine here in Montpellier. I have a job, I met nice people, and people didn't seemed to question who my parents are. In fact, they didn't seemed to care about who my parents are at all.

But then he showed up. That boy, who'd haunted my dreams, though it had grown to be somewhat of a nightmare to me. I remembered something from that dream, his hair. His hair was an odd shade of brown, like a bronze. I could never see his face clearly in those dreams, but then I saw his hair, and I know, it was him.

That moment we collided in the square, I never thought it would lead me to something as strange as this. Digging my own past, figuring out who I really am. Who that girl actually is in my dreams. Is it actually me? Is she somebody I used to know? Is she a relative of mine?

I tried to brush off that feeling. But the way he looked at me like I'm someone who he'd been looking for all this time, and at last, he'd found me. And I would never tell anyone about this, but in his eyes, I saw everything. The events, it came crashing back to me as if I'm struck by a lightning. I could feel his arms around me, him whispering soothing words softly into my ears. I could hear the rain splattering against the pavement.

But those simple words. 'No'

I told myself 'no', and pulled away from what could be the most important person in my life. The one person who used to mattered. I ran away. I cowered away from the truth. Whilst I ran back to the bookshoppe, I hoped that he wouldn't follow me. I hoped that he will brushed it aside as if I'm just another face on the street.

I never remembered his name, though. Someone with an 'r', an 'a', an 's'. There is one more letter, though. I couldn't remembered if it was an 'm' or an 'n'. I always thought the man's name is Enjolras, seeing that after numerous nights of the same dream, the name was always present in them. But then, I had this nagging feeling in the back of my head that says, 'That's not it'

I returned home, with the first one of what would be a series of headaches. I spent hours pacing back and forth, trying to figure out the man's name. And then, out of the blue, came the answer. 'Marius'.

'Don't you fret, M'sieur Marius'

That is what the girl is saying. 'Marius', it's his name! I felt a warmth spreads through me. What does this mean?

The next day, I didn't expect for him to sit in the Beauchamps' reception room. I felt paralized. We stared into each other's eyes for a few moments. It was a mix of feeling. Worry, happiness, curiosity. But then, I forced myself to act normal, as if nothing of great importance had occur.

"...Monsieur Pontmercy here is just catching up,"

His eyes followed my every movement. Of course, I'd heard the previous part of their conversation accidentally. 'Marius', could it be that he is the boy? 'There is probably a lot of Mariuses out there, 'Ponine' I scolded myself as I set up the dinner table for one more.

The next day, he came to the bookshoppe, flushed and looking slightly terrified. I chuckled a little at his dishelved appearance. That was when we had our first conversation, on the cashier table. I remembered how he spoke of that girl. How sad he was, how his words are so very sincere. How similar the story was to my dream.

When I arrived in my apartment, I asked to myself, 'why couldn't I just go along with my feelings?'

It was because I was afraid. I was afraid of ending up like that girl, died only to have her beloved returned her feeling as she died in his arms, taking a bullet that was meant for him. I don't want to get hurt. I don't want to be like that girl. I just want to leave it buried like it always meant to be.

But after yesterday's event, after I poured everything that'd troubled me to him, leaving out details that may make everything became clear, I know it will never be the same anymore. Gone was the easy, uncomplicated friendship we'd had.

I don't know where it'll take us, I haven't even confronted my past, yet, but I guess, that's life, isn't it?

A/N: I'd had many requests for an Eponine POV of Strangers In My Mind, but the story was meant to be told in Marius' POV, so I guess, I just write a companion piece. Thanks for reading!