Disclaimer: If I was Victor Hugo,this would be better written.
There is something special about rue de Plumet.
You can often see the young gamine staring at something,muttering in herself.
When you come closer you can vaguely hear the whispers,something about an adress.
"rue de Plumet 55."
"rue de Plumet 55 ."
"rue de damnnit,I should have known."
If you ask her about it she gives you a look of sadness that rapidly turns into anger.
She then gives you a shove that sends you bouncing on the pavement of the street.
You rub your sprained ankle and look at her questionly,trying not to cry.
Crying is for the weak your father tells you over and over again,when you beg for him to save the money for warm clothes and food instead of liquor. you're father's eyes shift threatening to the broom that stands in the courner and you muffle your sobs.
Sanity is relative when it comes to Eponine.
As she so often illustrates with her mood swings and crazy ideas.
You try to understand your sister the best as you can.
So when she ignores you or scolds at you,you tell yourself it's you fault. She's your sister,your flesh and blood and it's your own fault that you made her angry.
And when she tells another of her so called "true stories" ,you listen to her without interrupting her in her fantasies.
Because without her you have no one.
Eponine cares.
You know she cares about you,even if it's in her own way.
You can't explain it,you just feel it's true.
Maybe your lying to yourself but reality is just far too ruthless to live in it.
You know she cares when she nurtures your wounds after you've been hit.
You know she cares when she gives you her piece of bread,saying she isn't hungry.
And you certainly know she cares because when she thinks you're sleeping,she regularly checks on you,hoovering near you almost protective.
Like a true big sister
I don't know where this came from,I guess I just wanted to write something about Azelma and Eponine.
Review if you think that Azelma needs more love.
*Edited*
