My name is Eponine Thenardier.
I haven't been 'little miss Thenardier 'for combanation is starting to feel strange.
But when you are dead,you think of your past.
I remember when I was little,every thing used to be so bright and let me wear his hat,and he taught me how to always wears me in blue clothes,for it 'suits my eyes'.She let me pick flowers from the garden-now I think of it,they can't be ours.I've never seen her taking care of them,yet they were always fresh and lush.
I remember my little sister, warmth of her hand in mine,the constant was always frightend-of worms,blood and wouldn't go to sleep without a story or a eyes shine like the sea.
And in the corner of my memories,there's lies in the sheadow.I don't even know why I used to hate her-maybe I was trying to be mature.
But I do remember that got up at night,and her skinny,dirty looking scared screamed so loud,it breaks my 's why I pushed her,she fell to the ground,and I kicked her,again and again.I remember I said:'Look,sister,there's nothing to be afraid of-if something bothers you,you just need to kick it,kick it hard!'
I wish I still had that courage.
But karma came back at me.
The moment I saw her,the curse from the past has captured me.
She owned suits her.
And she had him.
All the money ,fame and power in the world combined,wouldn't be as she just got it easily.
All my flesh,my life,my soul ,are not enough to exchange his single glance.
That's why I must pay for my sins-my salvation,is death.
on their blessed wedding night，I will stand in front of them with the other angles，and I will bless their names；
when their first kid arrives，I will kiss his forehead，and pray for his soul；
and when that kid grows up，when he plays on a meadow near the streets，he will pick up a tender little rose；
In that meadow I sleep，and that flower was my soul；
maybe，just maybe，at that time ；
he will kiss the flower that I grew.