My darling readers,
You didn't honestly think that I would finish this story without telling you, did you! Of course not!
That being said, it has come to that time in which I must tell you that this shall be my second to last chapter of How Far the Broken Fall.
Please review ... I feel quite bitter sweet about finishing this story because I loved writing it so much .. but I promise to have more stories in the future!
With love always,
Alex
Her body felt light in my arms, almost nonexistent. Something wet soaked through my clothing and hands, as her fragile body hang limp. With every step I took, her legs would bounce lifelessly, her pale skin growing colder with every minute that past. Tears rolled down my cheeks, but not out of sorrow or despair, out of anger. I hated Montparnasse, even if he were dead I hated him. He took away the most important person in my entire life, and had the nerve to kill himself after. I wanted him alive so that I could torture him.
My thoughts were a jumbled mess, I could hardly see more than a few inches in front of me as tears continuously cascaded out of my eyes. I wanted to rewind time, to go back to before Eponine had vowed to protect me. I felt responsible for her death. I had made a promise to keep her alive, to keep her safe. It was not a hard thing to keep, and yet I failed. I failed Gavroche, I failed myself, I failed Joly, I failed Marius, and most of all, I failed Eponine.
"Azelma?" A young, familiar voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I turned to find the young gamine, Amélie staring at me intently. Her green eyes widened upon seeing Eponine in my arms. She grabbed the hem of my skirt, pulling me behind her. "Come with me."
Amélie's "house" was composed of old scraps of metal and cloth and branches from trees to act as support. It was a shack, at best. There were only four walls, and a roof. Two cots lay side-by-side to each other, and a small oil lamp hung between them. Bernard sat on what i assumed was his cot, staring blankly ahead. His eyes lit up upon seeing Amélie and I, but it only lasted a moment. He ran to me, taking Eponine's body out of my arms, and placing her on his cot. I sunk to my knees, covering my face as sobs once more consumed me.
That was my sister, lying there, just a body without a soul. That was my ...
sister.
"What happened?" Bernard asked, kneeling down next to me and placing a hand on either of my shoulders.
I shook my head. "I ... I was too late!" I cried. Amélie whimpered, and suddenly her hands were around my waist, her head resting on my lower back.
"What about Mont-" Bernard stopped. "What about him?"
I looked up, wiping a few tears from my eyes. "Dead."
A glint of relief shone in Bernard's tired eyes, and I thought I felt the old man's grasp slacken upon the news. He cupped my face with one hand, staring at me with solemn despair. My eyes flicked between him and Eponine, before finally resting on my sister. I stood, shaking Amélie off of me, and kneeling down next to my sister. I took her hand in mine, kissing it gently, and letting my forehead rest on her shoulder. I half expected to feel her stir beneath me, to hear her voice mumbling soothing things in my ear. But no voice came, and she did not move. She was dead. How could she?
I lifted my head, brushing a few loose curls off her forehead. "When we were children, Eponine would tell me stories about the moon. She would say that it was a place where I would be safe." I looked up at Bernard, as tears once more formed in my eyes. "But now I think that those stories were her trying to convince herself that there was something better for her than the life she knew. She always tried to protect me, always tried to shelter me. She was so stubborn." A small smile tugged at the upper corners of my lips. "She used to wear her cap and trench coat everyday, no matter what the weather. I would always try and reason with her, that it was too hot for her to wear them, but she would just insist that she had to." My smile faltered. "How can she be gone ...?"
Bernard sighed. "I'm so sorry, Azelma."
"She's not gone, you know!" Amélie piped up.
I turned to her, quirking an eyebrow upward. "What ever do you mean?" I felt annoyance begin to rise in my throat at the young girl's denial.
Amélie put a few blonde curls behind her ear, puffing up her chest, as if trying to make herself seem older. "She isn't gone because ... because ..." She stopped, thinking deeply about what it was she was going to say next. "Because when you talk about her, it is as if she is still alive. The stories you tell, they keep her living."
A deep silence filled the gap between us. I stared at Amélie, who had suddenly become very interested on a pebble at her feet, she crossed her arms behind her back, no longer trying to appear older than she was. Bernard smiled contently at his daughter, a small chuckle escaping his lips. I could not help but smile as well.
"You are right, Bernard," I mused, "she has a good soul."
Amélie looked up to meet my gaze. "Papa told me the same thing after Mamman died. He said that if I tell stories about her, then she will never die, not in our memory anyway."
I nodded. "Well, your father is a very smart man." I said.
Amélie nodded. "I know." She smiled.
Bernard's smile fell suddenly. "What shall you do with ..." His eyes landed on Eponine.
"I-I don't know." I let my forehead rest in my hand. "I hand't thought about it. I shall have to let my brother say ... goodbye." I choked, placing my hand over my mouth.
"You have a brother?" I nodded. "How old?"
"Ten." I reply. "Gavroche loved her. He ran away from home when he was only two, and Eponine took every punishment that my father threw at both of us."
Bernard reached out a hand, which I took willingly, lifting myself up off the ground. He picked up Eponine's lifeless body, pulling her head into his chest as if she was a baby. "Take us to where you live." He said. "I won't let you go alone."
"No ..." Gavroche whispered. "NO!" He pushed past me, kneeling down next to Eponine's body and hugging her.
Bernard, Amélie, and I just stood and watched him. A feeling of helplessness washed over me as I watched him. He was so young, far too young to have the experience that he did.
"'Vroche, I-"
"You." He turned to me, ferocity in his glare. I nearly jumped with fright at the look on his face. "How could you let this happen!?"
My heart sunk, I bowed my head. "I-I don't know, Gavroche."
"She was always there for you! Why weren't you there for her!?"
"I don't know."
He scoffed. "Is there anything you do know, Azelma?" He sneered. "It seems that death follows you everywhere you go. You killed our father, how do I know you didn't kill 'Ponine too?"
My eyes snapped up. "You don't mean that, Gavroche."
Tears streamed down his dirty cheeks, leaving trails where they fell. His gaze softened, and he fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands, and sobbing. I had never seen him cry before. Gavroche was a strong little boy. He had been on his own for as long as I could remember, even before he ran away he had to learned how to fend for himself. He was not one to show emotions, or affection in public. Even in private it was rare for him to be open about what he felt. I didn't like it. I wanted thing back to the way they were.
I wanted Eponine back.
I pulled Gavroche into my arms, rocking him slowly as he continued to sob. It took all my strength not to break down again. My eyes flicked to Amélie, and I remembered what she said.
"When you talk about her, it is as if she is still alive. The stories you tell, they keep her living."
I tried not to think about the present moment. I let my mind wander to the moon. And for a fleeting moment, I thought that I just might get through this.
