Hi Everyone! Sorry this chapter is a tiny bit graphic. I think it should still be okay for a T rating, but if anyone has any objections, please let me know! Thanks so much for reading, guys. Your reviews really make my day and help me a lot!

Chapter 5

Eponine struggled against the man, kicking and pulling as much as she could muster, but there was only so much a starving street rat could do. The tight hand dragged her a shorter distance than expected, pulling her into a dimly lit doorway only a block from where the stranger had found her.

Eponine was thrown to the floor, her shoulder crashing into the wood with excruciating force. She lifted her head in attempt to see where she was, but the fall had left her vision blurry. Slowly, she made out the sound of laughter and clinking glasses, then the sight of bar stools and empty beer bottles littering the counter and floor.

"Look who's dropped in, boys," the voice from the alleyway jeered. A collective cheer filled the girl's ears as she sat up warily.

"What the hell," she spat, annoyed that her words were coming out slurred. Her head was pounding, blood rushing to her face and directly behind her eyes. She felt a small kick in the ribs, but couldn't follow the sensation fast enough to find who had caused it.

"Watch your language, Mademoiselle," a different voice taunted from the bar.

Eponine stood up and squeezed her eyes shut to rid herself of the confusion. It only seemed to make things worse.

A hand slithered around her waist and pulled her against an unknown torso, causing her to cringe from where the kick had bruised her. She saw a blurry face become uncomfortably close to hers, felt his stale breath on her lips as he spoke.

"How about a kiss, Mademoiselle?" he smiled. His lips crashed into hers with a kind of brute force. Eponine slammed her fists into his chest, trying to push him away. He only held her closer. His mouth, ridden with the stench of alcohol, grew more forceful and more deliberate. He searched her lips with his, trying to find an opening in the tight line she had formed. When he wasn't successful, he pressed his thumb into the precise spot on her ribs that had been hurt, forcing her to gasp in pain. The man took the opportunity to slide his tongue into her unwilling mouth, clumsily crashing into her teeth.

Eponine screamed and bit down on her attacker's tongue. He quickly pulled away from her, only to follow with a slap across the face. She held her cheek and glared at the man, whose face had now come into focus. He was unfamiliar, as far as she could tell.

"Don't be rude," he grinned, revealing yellowed teeth and cracked lips.

"Come on, love, give us a little fun," another man got up from the bar. Eponine could see that there were about four or five of them in the room, drinking and laughing around the scene. If only Marius were here to help her…

The man grabbed her chin and brought his lips to hers, but Eponine ripped her head away and spat on him. She tried to run for the door, but the drunken men were quicker. They lifted her and carried her back into the bar. She thought she might faint from all of the pounding in her head. It was all she could do not to collapse right there and then.

She closed her eyes as a continuous line of kicks and punches erupted all over her skin. She could feel the bruises forming, the blood dripping from her nose. She had learned, after numerous beatings from her father, that there came a time when fighting was no longer of use. Instead, she imagined herself far away and let them color her black and blue. Everything had to come to an end at some point. Everything.

"Y-you should stop," the voice was quiet at first, advancing from the furthest corner of the bar. "S-shtop," Eponine opened her eyes to see the man set his bottle down on the counter and walk towards the group, clearly unsteady.

"What was that?" the beatings stopped as everyone turned to look at the defiant yet clearly wasted voice. Eponine moaned and clutched at her stomach, which had received a significant number of blows.

"Shtop hurting her," he slurred. "Sh-she's innocent," he came right up to the girl and knelt down beside her sloppily. As he leaned over her bloodied face, Eponine tried to focus in on his own features. It took a moment, but recognition spilled over her eyes. She gasped.

"Oh shut up, Grantaire. It's not like you'd want anything from her, anyway," the man who had found Eponine in the alley sneered.

"What?" the boy looked up.

"Well you've never fancied any of our women, 'ave you?" the rest of the men laughed lazily.

"I-I don't know wha-at you mean," Eponine could tell that the boy from Les Amis was struggling to get his words through to the rest of them. The liquor was thick on his lips.

"Oh but I think you do,"

The man picked Grantaire up by the shirt collar and brought him up to eye level.

"Wouldn't you rather a kiss from me, Monsieur?" he grinned. Grantaire glared at the man and threw a lopsided punch at his face. When he missed, his tormentor shook his head and laughed, never letting go of Grantaire's collar.

"Now that just won't do," the man kneed him into the nearest table, punching him as he fell to the floor beside Eponine. Grantaire clutched at his arm but moved to get up, an anger in his eyes that no amount of drink could have masked.

"What the hell is going on here?" a new voice came from the doorway. Eponine breathed heavily. She knew that voice.

"E-Enjolras," Grantaire managed. The fleet of drunkards looked towards the new addition to the room. He stalked over to the group.

"Eponine? Oh, God! Eponine!" he flew to her side. His hand brushed against her cheek, wiping away blood and dust as his frantic eyes took in the sight. She was turning a hundred shades of blue, with blood matted here and their like dried paint and open wounds dotting her complexion. She was completely broken.

Enjolras stood, infuriated.

"What have you done, Grantaire?" he said quietly, all the rage of a scream compressed into a thin whisper.

"I di-didn't do anything," the boy's eyes were wide with fear.

"You're drunk," Enjolras spat. "You're always drunk," He surveyed the room of now silent men.

"You'll regret this,"

"Enjolras I-I was trying t-to help,"

"But you couldn't, could you? Because she's almost dead and you're completely wasted, so that didn't really work," his voice was rising.

Enjolras slammed his fist into the man's face who was holding Grantaire by the shirt. A loud crunch sounded and everyone was frozen, as if the entire world had stopped in that single moment. The man keeled over, clutching his crooked, bleeding nose. Enjolras steamed.

"You should all be dead," he said, almost silently, staring directly at Grantaire. He didn't stay to see the look of utter pain flash across his friend's face, but bent to pick up the broken girl and walked out the door, leaving them with empty bottles and empty hearts.