Cosette. The Rue Plumet. Cosette. Your darling Cosette. You talk of her all the time. You never spare a thought for me.
You aren't rich, M'sieur Marius, you're just a student. You should be smart, shouldn't you? Is it so hard to see what I want? I didn't want your money, I never did. That was Papa. I never asked for that.
You're a handsome boy, M'sieur. I told you that when we met, didn't I? You were afraid of me. It was my teeth, wasn't it? Nobody ever sees past them. It's not my fault they're cracked and it's not my fault some are missing. If you knew how Papa beats me, you'd understand. But you never will, you look at me and you shudder.
I used to be beautiful. Your precious Cosette was once ugly. She was the Lark- not a pretty Lark, but a Lark who didn't sing, who couldn't sing! I was beautiful, I was the Rose- everyone said so. Can't you see it in me?
Sometimes I can almost see me as a child when I stand in front of the mirror with my hair all done up. I bet you can't see me as I was. You can't see past the dirt or the missing teeth.
Can you see to my heart? Can't you see what's in there?
I thought it was obvious. And yet you gave me money.
Fifty-five Rue Plumet. Cosette. Dearest Cosette.
It is all I hear you speak of.
I've seen you there at nights, M'sieur. I've seen the two of you under that tree. She doesn't see you in daylight like I do, she doesn't know who you are. Not really.
I do.
And yet you love her. Her!
I used to have everything and now I have nothing. How can she have risen so far? I would hate her if it were not for you, M'sieur. I would hate you too, if I didn't-
But that doesn't matter. We're going to die soon, I'll make sure of that. It's all planned. I'm not going to stand over you with a knife like 'Parnasse would or like any of the Patron-Minette. A girl's got more class than that, even if she is just a gamin and a whore.
I don't want to kill you, M'sieur, I want you to know that. I just don't want her having you. Not the pretty lady who swept into our lives and turned them upside down.
If she hadn't come, would you have learned to like me?
I can read and write, I showed you that, didn't I? And I'd be good to you. I've almost forgotten how to be good, but I'd have tried.
You didn't want me to try though, did you? You only ever wanted your precious Cosette. Didn't even know her name at first, did you. I told you my name when we met. The only name I ever wanted to be known by.
You called me Éponine.
I want to hear you say my name over and over again as you die. Éponine, I need you. Éponine, I'm sorry. Éponine… Éponine… Éponine.
Cosette. Cosette.
No- not her again, don't talk about her, M'sieur! It's Éponine- that's what I want to hear.
She's gotten her way up in life- she's happy now with that old father of hers, in a grand house, with pretty clothes. She doesn't need you like I need you.
You see, M'sieur, if I can't have you in life, I am going to have you in death.
A/N: Well! A great thanks to Morohtar, who helped beta one of my first attempts at a Les Mis fic. In retrospect, it seems like a rather typical Éponine fic, and I'm not sure if I used any terms correctly. All the same, I hope someone enjoyed it! And at the risk of seeming like a review whore, please drop a line to say what you thought of this!
