Fantine Monologue
Disclaimer: I don't own Fantine, Félix, or Cosette. Sorry.
Just a question: Does Robin Hood and his Merry Men from Shrek remind you of either:
a) The Scarlet Pimpernel and his League on crack, or
b) Enjolras and Les Amis on ecstasy? Please get back to me on this.
I never loved Félix. Not...not in the way I would love a husband...not....not true love. It wasn't really physical lust either...he wasn't the handsomest man out there—but he was far from ugly or even bad-looking. But I...I lusted after his mind, I suppose. He was charming, and kind, and—and he cared for me, in some semblance of the word. And I wanted to be treated like—like a woman so badly. I was only eighteen when I met him, and he was almost twenty-seven, but he seemed younger, seemed energetic, alive, eager. He treated me like a woman, not like a worthless girl, the way my parents treated me. It felt like...like he swept me off my feet, a knight in shining armor, saving his princess from certain death.
Eventually, I began...began to want him, for him, I thought, but I really wanted to be a—wanted to lose my virginity. I—I thought I loved him, and he was the...the only person who I would lose it to. And he told me he loved me, and was gentle, and kind, and...and everything he always was. Even after—Cosette. He treated her like his daughter...treated us like we were a family, and we were. For two years, a family. He played with her in the park, kissed her before bedtime...held her when she cried. Even when I cried, over a nightmare, he held me, didn't laugh like my father did when I had nightmares, didn't turn away like...like my mother did.
It wasn't until I left that I realized what a snake he was. But part of it was my fault, the begging of the surprise, the everything. And maybe Cosette did, too. If I hadn't had her—oh, God, would things be different now?
And yet—I know I never loved him, but I still—still care for him deeply...still hate his entire self...still want him to come back and hold me, to kiss my tears away...still want to show him my body, heartless, and take his own, and scream, "This is what you left behind, Félix! A soulless body!" It's a—a vicious cycle, a never-ending circle of pain. This is what you left behind, my Félix, my chérie. Me.
Also, just as a clear-up: Fantine says she does not love Félix, but in truth, she does. She's just kind of lying to herself, I guess. Thanks to Alanna Rivers for the grammar correction.