A/N - Well, this wasn't my first attempt at FanFiction, but my first at what I call a very short, toned down angst. In fact, I'm not at all certain that it worked. That said, thoughts and opinions would be greatly appreciated by this newbie writer!
Disclaimer - I own nothing.
The darkest hour is just before the dawn.
If there was one thing that Eponine had learned it was that misery enjoyed company, and it spread faster than the most contagious disease. Heaven knew she was familiar with the feeling, more than anyone ought to be. No matter how much she walked, she could never outrun it. Its cold, stiff fingers were always clutching her, with skeleton-like hands that gripped on to whatever they could find. She never understood why, it felt like she had died long before.
They had paid her father's price for her innocence, and with that coin she had bought the bread that kept them breathing. That coin cost her more than it had bought. She had fallen into a dark hole long ago, but it had gotten deeper and deeper, with no trace of light at the end. She lived in a dark and merciless, callous world; under bridges and in ditches. The thought of jumping in the freezing water and drowning had crossed her mind, but she knew the world was filled with bridges. She'd been living under them for far too long.
Hand to hand with her walked misery, her shadow wherever she went. The ditches were always her destination; the streets of Paris, her salvation. She would lay in the narrow channels and look at the stars. The most beautiful scenes she could imagine, right before her eyes. When she walked into them, not even misery could follow. The dreams were her salvation, but when the bitter sting of reality brought her back, she slowly pined away. Her heart belonged to the boy who'd never noticed her. He was educated, in love with a girl she knew from a time long ago. He was always beyond her reach, but not her dreams. Life's irony played a cruel game, and it used her as a pawn.
They were all thieves and traitors, the demons with obscure faces that belonged in the underworld that was her home. And herself? She was no better than the rest. The difference was that they all struggled while she realized that it was not always darkest before the dawn. Sometimes the night lasted a long time, and after a while it was impossible to tell the darkest point. To her, every moment felt darker than the last; sometimes she caught a glimpse of what she thought was sunshine, but it eluded her always. And what of the dawn? It never came, not until it was far too late.