OK I CAN EXPLAIN WHY THIS UPDATE TOOK SO LONG.
In the middle of writing, I lost ALL MY WORK! Ugh and I was soooo upset because what I had was really good ... I mean like REALLY good... so I had to start all over and I'm crying because compared to what I had this is sososo bad ): ugh. I'm sorry you guys I'm honestly so upset right now ):
So ... to make up for it this is going to be a very dramatic chapter that will leave you on a bit of a cliffhanger! Enjoy

It wasn't always like this. Even when Papa was alive, there was never this loss of hope, this feeling of helplessness always looming over us. When he died, I had hoped that the suffering died with him, but it was as if he had cursed us, because it only got worse. When Eponine ran, she proved that everything we ... she ... had fought so desperately for, safety, hope, closure, it was all in vain. There was nothing left for the Thenardiers. Not for me, or Gavroche, or Mamman, or dear Eponine. Especially not for Eponine. We were ... nothing. It wasn't always like this. But from now on, it always will be.

I made a decision in that moment, a decision that I knew I would later regret. But I didn't care. I knew it had to be done if I were going to save Eponine. Was save the right word? After everything we had been through, all she had done for me, was I the one saving her? After all, would she not despise me for it later? A knot of anguish formed in the pit of my stomach as a dew my conclusion. Yes. I was saving her. I did not care if she hated me for it later, I did not care what our past had been. I, for once in my sorry, pitiful life, was saving her, and not the other way around.

"Well, well, well." A slurred, female voice rang out through the abandoned street. "Look 'oes back!" I turned, to see my mother standing there, in all her drunken glory, her chubby fingers curled around a bottle of hard liquor.

"Mamman." I trembled. She did not get drunk often when I still lived at home, but she was dangerous whenever she was. I stepped back, letting my eyes flick down the street as I prepared to make my escape when the right time came.

"Don't you Mamman me, Azelma!" She sobbed, "Do you know the shame that you brought to your family!?"

"The shame that I brought!?" I boomed, suddenly forgetting my fear. "Or perhaps you are forgetting that your husband ran a gang, that he killed and thieved for a living, and forced your oldest daughter to as well! And let us not forget, darling mother, that you sold two of your sons so that you could pay for Papa's gambling debts! And I have brought shame to the family! I-" A sharp, stinging pain on my cheek cut off my rant along with the defecating noise of skin being slapped. I stumbled backwards, catching myself before I could fall.

"Don't 'ou threaten me, 'Zelma." She snarled menacingly. Once more, I found myself afraid of her, as her grip tightened around the bottle, and her other hand clenched into a fist.

I backed away from her, still holding my burning cheek. She grabbed me by the wrist, turning on her heels and dragging me behind her. "Where are we going?"

"Home she slurred."

My stomach dropped at the single word. Home. No, my home was with Gavroche, and Eponine, and Joly. My home was with people who loved and cared for me, not here. Perhaps once I called this home, but that time was far gone. No, this was not my home, and it never would be. I struggled against her grip, but she was too strong, and I had not eaten in almost two days, making me far too week to get away. So, I allowed her to pull me through the streets until the small, beaten down excuse of a house was in sight.I took a deep breath and began to devise a plan of escape in my mind. She was drunk, so it would not be hard. All I had to do was wait until she fell asleep, and then I could find Eponine.

It was not long before her deafening snores echoed through the small house. I stood up, trying to be as silent as possible on the creaky, molding floorboards. It was not until I was safely outside the house that I realized I had not been breathing. I looked around me. It was almost dawn, the sun just beginning to peak out, and humid haze of precipitation and morning dew suffocated the air. A few droplets of sweat rolled down the back of my neck, and I wiped them away quickly. It was incredibly hot, even at this hour in the morning, which only made me want to move faster. June was always hot in Paris, but something about today felt worse than usual. It was hardly dawn, and I could already feel myself drenched in sweat, and my hair sticking to my forehead and the back of my neck. I lifted Eponine's cap off my head, only to push it back.

"So I can give it to her when I find her." I reassured myself, running my fingers around the rim of the tattered excuse of a hat.

"Ninny! Where ya been, girl? I 'aven't seen ya much about." I turned to see a group of whores whistling and laughing in my direction.

One of them gave me a puzzled look. "You aren't Eponine." She said.

I rolled my eyes. "How observant." I shot back.

"Then what in God's name are 'ou doin' with her hat?" Another questioned.

I ignored them, turning on my heels to retreat deeper into the slums while they shouted every piece of profanity they could possibly conjure at me. I shuddered at the thought of Eponine knowing any of them, but I pushed the thought to the back of my head. I had work to do.

There is no nice part of Saint Michel, only some that are nicer than others. While I lived in the most dangerous part, I did not live in the poorest. Papa's line of "work" provided us with enough that we were able to live on the outskirts nearer to upperclass societies. It was in the center of the Godforsaken slums where true poverty lived. The people here hardly ever left, and those who did, did not make it farther than a few feet from their home before they dropped dead of disease or hunger. It suddenly struck me how much I stuck out in this part of Saint Michel. I was skinny, and dressed in rags, yet compared to the people here, I looked like royalty. Men began to whistle and holler at me, as if they had never seen a woman finer, and women began to point and marvel at me as I walked past. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to be as discreet as possible.

A strong set of hands pushed my up against the rotting skeleton of a house. "What's a pretty girl like 'ou doin' 'ere, girlie?"

I turned my face as the hot, rotting breath stung my nose. "Let me go!" I yelped, struggling against the man's surprisingly strong grip.

"Aw, come now, dearie!" He chortled, "Don't play 'ard to get!" He moved his hands down my arms, letting them fall harshly on my hips.

I gasped. "Let me go." I said weekly.

A small crowd had started to gather, both men and women alike to watch the spectacle. I felt as if I were on display, as if I was some show that people could pay to come and watch, and I hated it. The man pressed his body up against mine, pushing me farther into the wall. I just stood their limply, all of a sudden forgetting how to fight. I looked at the faces in the crowd, hoping to spot one kind soul to help me, but no one came. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I bit my lip to hold back a sob. After all these years of escaping countless attacks with my purity, this was how it was to be taken. I hung my head, as the monster who was to claim me continued to move his hands down my frame.

When he was through with me, he flung me to the side, as if I were an animal off the street. The crowd began to dissipate, leaving only a few onlookers left to study me. I brought my knees up to my chest, resting my head between them as I tried to hide the tears which had begun to fall. That was it. The one, final decent part of me that was left, ruined. If it were not for Eponine, I thought that I might never move from the position that I was in at that moment. I wanted to die. And then I realized, that a part of me already had.

A piece of cloth touched the back of my skin lightly, and I jumped, looking around defensively to see where it was coming from. A small, blonde haired girl sat in front of me, her doe-like eyes boring holed into mine. She was terribly thin, and her deep green eyes showed sorrow that seemed to be scarred into them. A girl of ten or eleven, she looked no older than seven because of the state she was in. She said nothing to me as she continued to press the cloth against my neck and face, doing her best to clean the grime from my skin. When she was through, she gave me a final nod, before scurrying away. I stood slowly, feeling a soar, throbbing feelings between my legs. I grit my teeth, trying my best to ignore it. It was only now that I completely understood the hell in which Eponine insured every miserable day, the broken feeling that consumes one after they are taken against their will. It only made me want to fight harder to find her, so that I could apologize for ever thinking that I understood what she went through.

I took one step forward, before teetering and falling against the building. My head hit the ground hard, and my world went black.