Wow this took like a month to write...i just couldn't get started. This is my FIRST ever fanfic, so it will probaly suck. This is rated T cause I dont know how to rate this, though there is no language so far.
Disclaimer: For a lack of a witty one, I just dont own Les Mis
"Come Cosette, we must go." The strange man led Cosette out of the inn, her petite yet rough hand clutching the porcelain doll that the man gave her. Eponine scowled in envy as she watched her retreating figure, gripping her own doll tighter. The doll that was in Eponine's smooth, white hand had ragged yarn hair and a smudged fabric dress that paled in comparison to the candy floss locks and satin gown that decorated Cosette's little china figurine.
Eponine sniffed. She would still be richer than Cosette. Fifteen hundred francs! That was enough to but her thirty little statuettes that would be much prettier than the rag of a playtoy Cosette just received.
"Eleanor! Get some beers, will you? We need to celebrate." Her father cackled in glee as he stroked the stack of money in his hand. Eponine wrinkled her nose at the thought of 'alcohol.' Last time her father drank to much of it, Cosette was been unable to move for 2 days. Even though she hated Cosette, it was quite horrific to watch.
Eponine sat at the top of the rickety old stairs in the inn, peering down to see her father knocking back on the smelly, dark liquid. Eponine grimaced again, scrunching her pale, petite face and smoothing out the folds of her fuschia dress.
"Eponine...Eponine." Eponine looked back to see her younger sister Azelma at her shoulder, her chocolate pigtails that were tied with rose coloured ribbons bouncing as she cocked her head inquisitively to one side. "Eppy, where did Cosette go?" She was younger than Eponine by a three years, where as Eponine was nine and Azelma was six. They had a younger brother who had run away recently , but was one year younger than Azelma.(AN: I know Gavroche ran away in Paris, but for the sake of this story lets say he fled in Montfermeil.)
"I don't some stranger that probably will beat her worse than we did." Eponine answered haughtily, sticking her nose up in the air and flipping her dark, glossy curls over her shoulder. "Come now Azelma, lets go dress up Elizabeth." Eponine said, referring to the doll that she held in her hand.
Eponine pulled Azelma along the hallway of flimsy wooden doors that kept the inn patrons, giggling softly at the moans that came from some of the rooms. The floor along the sides were riddled with mouseholes, and dust collected thickly on every available ledge. Monsieur Thenardier was too cheap to buy a maid, and Madame always occupied Cosette on more strenuous labor than dusting.
She led Azelma into the small room at the top of the inn that she shared with her, throwing the doll on the bed. Eponine dug out some roughly cut fabric dresses from under her pillow, tossing them to Azelma.
A loud crash resounded downstairs, echoing through the inn. Both sisters froze, staring out of their room in apprehension, as if they expected a robber to come barreling down the hall, before hurrying down to the top of the stairs. Glass from a bottle was strewn over the floor, catching the sunset light and glittering like a thousand deadly diamonds.
Eponine's father, Monsieur Thenardier laughed and threw another bottle down, watching as it shattered with a flourish and spewing drops of dark liquid across the hardwood floor. There was a glassy, far away look in his eyes, a look that scared Eponine. It was not a look of sanity.
"Papa!" Azelma shrieked in fear next to Eponine, her eyes wide. Neither sisters had ever seen their father in such a mood.
Thenardier blinked, snapped out of his drunken tirade by Azelma's piercing voice .
"What? You're supposed to be in your room..." His voice was slurred and sloppy. "Nevermind, here come here!" Eponine gripped the rail of the stairs with one hand, silently refusing.
"Come here, girl. Now." Her Papa's voice was dangerous. Eponine involuntarily inched down to the landing.
"There's me girl!" Thenardier grinned messily and shoved a hastily drawn glass of beer towards Eponine. "Drink to our good fortune."
"No!" Eponine recoiled as if stung, pushing the glass away from her in disgust.
"No? Ah well, all the more for me!" He then turned his back on Eponine. She silently slid away towards the rampart to the upstairs, picking up her satin skirts with all the dignity she could muster and hurrying up. Azelma hadn't moved, her fingers white from gripping the handrail so tightly.
A sick, retching sound followed behind her as her feet slapped against the uneven paneling. She didn't dare look behind her, but instead grabbed Azelma by her shoulder and pushed her along the narrow corridor. Before they got far, a sour smell hit her senses.
"Euuyuk!" Azelma made a face. Eponine glared at her sister.
"Be quiet 'Zelma." Eponine ushered Azelma into the tiny attic room that was their room and shut the door, not wanting to be near her Papa anymore.
A long, thin slice of the last sunlight of the day shone through the window, illuminating the floor with a molten gold light. Eponine sat in silence for a few minutes watching the bit of light disappear. Azelma toyed around with the doll, throwing scraps around and finger combing it's tangled hair. Eponie bit her lip as another vomiting noise offended her senses. She screwed up her petite, pale face in distaste, then wondered who would clean that up. Cosette was gone...No matter. Maman would do it.
"Eponine! Get down here and clean up this mess!" Eponine blinked open her brilliant green eyes in confusion. The fog of sleep blurred her thoughts. A mess? That was Cosette's job! A bleary thought registered in Eponine's mind, that was gone, gone away with an odd man.
Do they really expect me to lower myself to her level and clean. I think not! Eponine was outraged, and simply shut her eyes against the morning sun that poured in the window.
"Eponine! Get your sorry hide down here!" Eponine opened one eye again, quite annoyed. She sat up, throwing a perfectly ironed dress over her shift, and running to the landing.
Monsieur Thenardier was at the door, his murky grey eyes silently fuming. The glass from last night was still covering the worn floor, and in some places the wooden planks were thinly layered by chunky yellow substance. The odor was disgusting and rank.
"Get down here girl, and wash this up! Did you expect that I would do it?"
"Papa! I'm not Cosette, and I will not clean like her!" Eponine stated superiorly as she scrambled down the last of the steps, carefully avoiding the spots of messy liquid, and faced her father square in the eye.
"I will not lower myself to her level. I am a lady, maman says so!" Her voice was proud and cold, but taut with anger, as if she were going to have a fit.
"Stupid girl, the inn patrons will wake soon. Do they want to see this mess? And if they do, we'll lose money. And if we lose money...well, we will have to turn you out to the streets, wouldn't we?" Thenardier leaned down into Eponine's face, breathing hot, stale breath onto her face. It reeked of beer and vomit. Eponine leaned back. She was immensely confused. Papa didn't talk this way to her. He only threatened Cosette.
"Listen. you will take a mop, and you will clean up this mess. Got it?" His voice had a steely, dangerous quality to it.
Eponine bit her lip, nodding her pretty head ever so slightly, frightened into submission. Her father thrust a gray, old mop and bucket into her hand.
"Clean."
"Eponine!"
Her mothers voice cut through the ruckus of the noisy inn. Eponine grimaced, tracing her now rough hands with her fingers, calloused from the work she was unused to. It had been nearly 4 months since Cosette left, and she had assumed the maid role around the inn, but she was never hit.
"Eponine!"
Eponine clutched the worn bedpost for support, hauling herself off of the cornflower blue comforter to the polished floor of her room. Her normally pale complexion was ruddy from days working outside. Her bare feet skid across the empty hall as Eponine flew down the stairs. Already the inn was saturated with the smell of alcohol, surprisingly heavy for so early in the morning.
Eponine's mother grabbed her with a beefy hand. "I thought I told you to scrub the inn tables!" Her voice was threateningly sweet.
"I did Maman! I did! Until they all came down!" Eponine pouted, gesturing to the crowd behind her. Months of working did little to deflate her attitude.
Madame Thenardier was already in a bad mood, due to a particular arrogant customer who refused to pay, and this little spat was doing nothing to improve it.
"Obviously its not clean. You're worse than Cosette. At least she actually cleaned without complaining." Madame muttered, glaring at Eponine.
Eponine swelled indignantly at the mention of Cosette. "If you liked her so much, go buy her back and sell me to that man so I can get pretty dolls as well." Her childish voice was petty and self centered.
"Listen 'Ponine, you're living under your fathers and mines roof, eating our food, using our money. We could easily turn you into another Cosette, or turn you out to the streets. I don't know why we didn't ask for that man to take you as well, you're more trouble than its worth. We're already thinking about turning you out to the streets." Madame Thenardiers words were laced with venom.
Eponine was taken aback. He maman hadn't threatened her like this before. Almost instantly, the shock turned to rage. She stood up as tall as she could, which was not very tall compared to her ox of a mother. Her cheeks flushed in childlike rage.
"You make me do all this work, clean up all this mess, wipe down the tables, when you should be cleaning it up! Its your inn! I'm not your slave, i'm your daughter!" Her shrill anger fit suddenly died as Madame Thenardier grabbed the front of Eponine's now slightly old and torn dress.
Eponine heard the slap before she felt it. A sharp, clean snap tore through the air as her maman's thick hand connected with Eponine's red face.
Eponine stared at her maman in shock for a few seconds, her face blank. Then came a torrent of pain, not just from the slap, but from the emotional agony of registering that your own parent slapped you.
Her emerald eyes widened in fear, and her hand instinctively went to her already swelling cheek. Eponine's stance shifted, now in more of a cowering, defensive position than she was a moment before.
"Go and finish the tables." Madame Thenardier threat was icy and poisonous. Eponine scurried away, still clutching the stinging side of her face.
Eponine curled up on the lumpy mattress that was her bed, the drafts from the sweeping over her exposed shoulders. Her parents moved her her and her sister down to the cellar in an attempt to "save space." Her small hand gingerly fingered her bruised eye, swollen shut. Monsieur Thenardier had no trouble in following Madames example, beating Eponine at every tiny chance, each time getting rougher, now up to at least three kicks and five slaps each offense.
After a while, Azelma started to receive slaps as well. Simple, compared to Eponine's fare, but Azelma was younger, and should not have been exposed to this abuse. She would come bawling from upstairs, head buried in her arms. Eponine would comfort her and hold her, whisper that it was going to be better. She didn't believe herself.
Today, Azelma spilled ale on the floor while trying to serve some particularly high paying customers. Papa took her into the back room and began to litter her skinny frame with kicks. Eponine stepped in there, trying to convince her papa to stop, to leave Azalma alone.
See how well that turned out. Eponine scoffed to herself, as she held the damaged eye that was the consequence of her prior actions that day.
Eponine hunched her thin body and shivered, holding her fingers to her temples, a gesture mature beyond her nine, almost ten years.
"We have no more money, you idiot! No more money to keep the inn. We'll have to leave." Eponine lifted her head as her mother's voice echoed from upstairs, in the now deserted inn common room. Leave?
"Shut up! We can make it. If not we can drop the two nuisances." A familiar clinking followed her fathers rough growl. The noise of a beer bottle. It was becoming a very common sound in the inn.
"60 francs left! Thats not enough to support this inn for another week!"
"Then we'll look to the brats for help." The last sentence was menacing but low, so low that Eponine didn't hear all of it.
Eponine shuddered. 60 francs left? Out of 1,500? Her palms grew clammy with cold sweat. Drop the two nuisances? She assumed that the nuisances were her and Azelma.
"Sometime or another we'll have to move. To Paris." Madame Thenardier snapped in a harsh whisper.
Moving to Paris?
Eponine clutched Azelma's hand, her eyes dull with disbelief as the truth set in. A white covered wagon leaned precariously to the left as her father harnessed an old mule to the unevenly stacked caravan. The windows of the Sergeant of Waterloo were boarded up with roughly cut planks of plywood.
We're leaving. The single thought circulated through Eponine's mind. Azelma held Elizabeth, the fabric that formed her face now faded, the once neat dress now torn, tightly to her chest, as if it were her last personal item in the world. It probably was.
Eponine herself was clothed in grey chemise and ragged skirt. Madame and Monsieur Thenardier sold every last bit of finery and luxury items, except for a spare few such as Elizabeth and her mother wedding ring, to get enough francs to buy a wagon and mule. A few chairs and bits of furniture made up the contents of the wagon, along with a wardrobe that contained the few rich possessions they kept. The rest of the caravan was taken up by beer and some other shady items.
"Eponine, where are we going to stay?" Azelma's childish whimper drew Eponine's attention. They had long ceased to seek comfort in their parents, and instead found solace in each other.
I don't know. Eponine instead forced a cheerful lilt to her answer. "We're going to stay in a nice little inn until we have money to buy a nice, neat flat." Eponine desperately wished she could believe herself.
Azelma, however, was momentarily satisfied, and slumped against her sister.
"Girls! Hurry up and get your bratty behinds down here!" At their mamans sharp and unwelcome call, both sisters turned and walked over to the wagon, ready to get in. Eponine hoisted her sister up, placing her foot in the crack of the steps.
"What do you think you're doing?" Madame Thenardier appeared above them, already in the covered cab. She roughly shoved Azelma back down the steps and sent Eponine staggering backwards with a slap. "Do you think there would be room in here for you? No, you are walking, you urchins."
Eponine silently stared up at her mother, her gaze lit with defiance and a touch of pleading as she tried to mount the steps again. Her maman met the glare with a furious one, sending Eponine reeling again with another slap, this time accompanied with a kick.
Eponine doubled over, holding her stomach. She grabbed Azelma's hand, fury bubbling up in her. How dare our mother refuse us the right to ride in an obviously spacious wagon! Those inner thoughts were suppressed as Eponine turned away from her mother.
"Come on 'Zelma, we'll walk." She said this with an air of this decision being the best idea in the world, that it was going to make everything better.
In Paris, we will have a better life. She thought determinedly. Yet as she stared after the retreating wagon that both sisters slogged after, she felt her hope for a new life already shrinking.
Reviews will help me get inspired :D