HELLO THERE! Welcome back! Sorry it took a while to get this updated. I've been busy busy busy! Sorry Everyone!
Alright are you ready for some E&E today? No? Too bad there is some. SPOILER. Teehehee. Anyways please enjoy this chapter and PLEASE review I really really really really enjoy hearing from you all. It makes my day better, and hopefully it can help my writing also.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Les Miserables because if I did well I wouldn't be in school right now. Which is just awful. Anyone up to doing my Pre-Calc homework? No? Aw okay.
Then without further ado chapter four "Surprising Encounters"
A dream so wonderful, you know you are in a world where anything can happen. I'm walking around in a dress that no streetwalker would ever dare to wear. Its green shines out in the sun, and I can feel the light touch of an arm around mine. I do not look to the man beside me; my dream-self already knows who it is. We enter into a grand house, and I sit down upon a blue silk chair. I look straightforward at a vase of amazingly beautiful white roses. A slight pressure is upon my shoulder, and within the instant I close my eyes and I am embraced by arms and a loving kiss. His lips are soft and a rush of emotion runs through me. I turn to face the mirror and gasp-
"Éponine!" Azelma is shaking me awake. "Éponine wake up!" I push her away and sit up quickly. Lately the pain in my chest wasn't bothering me, but now it was. She folds her arms and retreats to the fireplace. I notice her eyes are red, and her dirty face is streaked with tears.
"Yes 'Ponine. I dare say you have slept long enough today," Montparnasse says from behind me. He is lounged in a chair, sharpening his knife. It shines in the sunlight, and the reflecting light nearly blinds me.
"Why are you crying?" I say ignoring him. 'Zelma just emits a sob and flings herself on the ground in a heap of tears. Montparnasse rolls his eyes and I feel a strong hatred for his lack of feeling.
"M-m-mama s dead," He says through sobs. "Mama is gone." I feel nothing at her words, except a small wave of sadness. How can you pity the ones who only made your life more of a living hell? There is a long pause in which only 'Zelma's cries are heard. Montparnasse scoffs and throws his sharpening tool down.
"Be quiet 'Zelm," He orders. She sits up and wipes the tears off her face. Her mouth is set into a deep frown, but her eyes follow him. I see something strange pass through her eyes, but she just turns to the unlit fireplace.
"Where is Papa?" I ask.
"Out," He replies quickly. He picks up his tools, and continues to sharpen the knife with a smirk. I hang my head and frown; out means he is out on a robbery spree.
"A word 'Parnasse..." I say gruffly throwing his knife to the floor. He takes my arm and pulls me out the door, leaving Azelma to cry alone. I pull my arm from his grasp, and then push him against the wall. "How dare you! You don't just do that to a young girl!"
"She isn't a young girl 'Ponine," he says with an expressionless face.
"You are such a vile being!" I shout pounding his chest with my fist.
"Someone is angry," he replies holding my arms down. "What is the matter Éponine? Have a little run in with someone last night?" He says with a smirk. I gasp and he lets go and folds his arms. "So that must be that the mysterious man. The one who gave you that dress. Now did you have to un-"
"Were you following me?" I cry out, my eyes wide in surprise. He just laughs, and I throw a slap to his face. "I'm not you property. I can go around whenever I want! And talk to whom I want-"
"Are you just angry because I saw that little moment between the two of you. And that look of disgust he had on his face. Is that the same face the baron had when talking to you?" Montparnasse says with an all too knowing look. I close my eyes for a brief moment, and then something comes to mind as he laughs viciously.
"No. They can't be..."
"Should be an interesting rob. He seems to be hanging around a certain part of Paris. He must have money on him..." I reach up to attack him with my nails, but he only takes my wrists into his hands.
"Now be a good girl. Go be with your sister, don't worry about the men work-"
"By god... You-"
"Go-" He says shoving me back into the room. Before I can shout he pulls me close and whispers in my ear, "Be careful, you wouldn't want to upset you sister." He drags a chair and pulls it in front of the door. Azelma thinks nothing of it because she is preoccupied with shivering in the warm August heat. I look at him with a glare that could slice stone. "They will be back soon enough 'Zelm. With food. And fire." I pick up a rock and toss it at the wall.
"Why are you so mad?" She asks turning to me. She doesn't see the demon himself shake her head behind him. How could I felt anything towards him? Love or lust, I must be insane.
"She wanted to go on the robbery, but she slept in too late."
"But 'Ponine doesn't like what Papa does. She told me that!"
"Oh I did want to go 'Zelma..." I say looking down at the floor. Just a few more weeks and I am a maid. I had almost forgotten that! Within a few more weeks I will be a maid at someone's home, and I will be away from all of this. Maybe I'll be able to start a new life... A few minutes later I can hear feet running up the steps, and Montparnasse is almost hit with the swinging of the door.
"He hardly had anything!" Papa says flinging a small bag on the floor. On the rich leather the letters ME were carved in delicately. The dogs crowd around their hunt and smile.
"It's enough!" Babet says reaching for the bag.
"And you made sure that he wouldn't go to the police?" Montparnasse says coming behind me and laying a hand on my shoulder. The question was directed at me, but I only knew that.
"I don't the he will be moving for a while. That or he won't remember," Papa replies grabbing the bag for himself. He takes a coin out and it shines in the light, and it reflects in his eyes.
"Should have killed him..." He whispers in my ear, and no one else hears. I turn to him and he shakes his head and I look back.
"'Ponine?" Papa asks looking away from his money for a quick moment. I shake my head and rush out of the room, and into the hallway. Before I can get down the stairs Montparnasse shoves me into the wall.
"You just don't get it do you... No matter what you do to these men, they won't love you-"
"This isn't about love! This is about right and wrong-"
"There is not about right and wrong-"
"This is about not harming an innocent person out of your jealously! People can be nice-"
"Not to you!" He bellows, but no one comes out of the apartment to defend any side to the battle. "You belong to me."
"No. I don't belong to anyone. Now let go. There is a beaten man out there that needs help-"
"You are not going to help him!" He says forcefully pulling me back to the room, but I slip from his grasp and run without looking back.
That is when I realize... I do not know where I am going! "Where did I see him last...?" I wonder aloud as my feet carry me as fast as possible. The bridge! The bridge is large and underneath it is a spot that one on looks at. He has to be there!
I finally arrive at the area, and I was surprised to see I wasn't followed. The horror to be faced at home was far from my mind. I hear a moan coming from under the bridge.
"Michel?" I shout finding him in the shadows of the looming structure. His face is cut and already bruised. He lies on his back, slightly bent at the knees. His arms are wrapped around his sides.
"Éponine...?" He manages to say, while his eyes flutter open.
"Shh hush now..."
"Those bastards..." he mumbles. "They robbed me." His words are slurred, but yet they full of anger.
"I know. I know who-"
"They mentioned you! The one with the protruding, upturned nose." he tries to sit up, and I rush over and hold him steady. "Ahh My head..."
"They did a lovely job," I remark while tried to gently use my hand to clean his face. He tries to stop me, but I push his hand down. I notice his knuckles are also cut, the sign that he tried to fight back. I rip the hem of my dress, and use that to clean the blood from his face.
"I don't understand why. Contrary to their beliefs I'm very poor. Father and mother do not like to share much of their money with me. Their useless son, as my dad says. But his mother has always had a soft spot for me. Grandmamma gives her dear Michel money..." he scoffs and I turn his face to meet mine. He's eyes, which used to be so clear, and full of anger, now glassed over.
"You have been drinking. Drinking a lot," I state with no surprise shaking my head. He led a revolution, and now he is nothing but a useless drunk.
"To forget. Grantaire did." he replies without hesitation. "Of course you would be able to tell. Street girls. Ha. They can always smell the alcohol. You know the feeling of intoxication don't you? You voice sounds like it. Hardened like an age old drunk." My jaw slackens as he just begins to hum under his breath. My hands fall to my side as his if his harsh words were an actual physical strike.
"You should learn not to speak so much," I whisper heatedly under my breath.
"Speaking, talking. Ha! Words. They are not useful. My words of leadership did nothing but kill my friends. Words can kill." He yells loudly. "Words kill; my friends are dead by my words. Sharp as a bullet." He throws his hands in the air and mumbles something about his aching head.
"How did you manage to fend them all off?" I ask, and he just scoffs.
"That mademoiselle is a good question..." He trails off and stands up, but his balance is quite off. "A rush of power. I presume. It came over me after they had mentioned you. Something ridiculous as stealing my money just because-"
"You were nice to me. I know. They cannot comprehend the feeling of niceness..." I say standing up next to him. He looks down at me, his ever-blue eyes clouded with a dazed and confused fog.
"You know many words for someone who doesn't like talking," He replies with a voice that is distant, and lost within his old self.
"Marius... I used to listen to him recite lines from books. And there used to be this actor who spoke poetry to me..." I mumbled. After I speak Marius's name I feel a light pull at my heart, but I try to ignore it. I remember I haven't even spoken that name for a while, but those bottled emotions stay down within my soul.
"Surprising... Very interesting. Did you know he is due to be ma-"
"Éponine!" A shout comes from above. I look up to the vermilion sun setting sky, and send a silent prayer upwards, not even knowing if there is anyone to listen.
"Zelma?" I ask seeing her slide down to us. Her face is twisted in anger and by the way her arms cross her chest I can tell she would rather be doing something else.
"Papa says to come home now. He is very angry with you," She says without a touch of emotion. "Now."
"I can't," I reply. Actually I would rather just stay here," I reply defiantly. She stomps her foot and it echoes around loudly. I stare at, silently willing her away.
"Papa says you need to come home. And 'Parnasse isn't too happy," She says not breaking our steady gaze.
"I could care less what they think at this moment," I say. We reach a moment where there is silence. Michel leans on my shoulder, unable to carry his own drunken weight. "'Zelma what is wrong with you? You used to be so nice, and innocent. And now..." I shake my head. She takes a step back as if the words were something disgusting at her feet. The sun has now set, and the darkness has engulfed us all.
"'Ponine you better go back now," She says, unable to think of anything to say. "Please?" She begs but I shake my head.
"No. Go home now." She resorts to giving in to my words and she runs off with a last look at Michel.
"Who was she?" He asks, utterly confused. I ignore the question because my mind whirls with anticipation. What will happen to me if I go home? What will happen to Michel if I just leave him home...? Oh lord. Why have I ever put myself into this situation?
"You need to get home," I say to him, but for some reason I felt it was saying it more to myself then to him.
"I don't have a home. My parents are nothing. My grandmother has taken me in, because she thinks she can refine me. I am pretty sure she said something about finding a refined young lady who is simple, but perfect." He says kicking the ground, and almost falling over. I catch him by looping my arm in his, and he placed a hand upon mine.
"I don't understand you," He says looking down on me. He says nothing more and he begins to walk. I hold his arm as he walks, and soon we are out on the street. The night is dark, there isn't anyone on the street, and we are utterly alone.
"I don't understand you Monsieur. What happened to you?" I question looking at him. "I don't understand how you just went from being a student, to a revolutionary, to a drunk!" My mind whirls around trying to understand his change of heart.
"Nothing happened. Nothing. Have you always been such a beggar all your life?" He interrogates me looking out across the street. I say nothing and just try to shake the feeling that someone is watching us.
"So your grandmother?" I say trying to change the subject from me to him. I might as well know the man I am helping. I follow him as he very slowly gains his sense of direction.
"A rich old thing. Batty too. Lost her husband in the war, but she retained his fortune. She is not very nice either. A woman that is too caught up in herself, and her fortune. Her servants absolutely hate her." We continue walking, and talking and I soon know his entire life story. It's strange how much one says when he is intoxicated. His parents never really fully loved him according to his rational way of looking at their actions through his childhood. We soon reached dark alley in the run down section of Paris.
I begin to feel tired and I lean against a cracked wall. Surprisingly Michel is still greatly intoxicated. He leans on the wall too, only it is right in front of me, and his hands are on the wall close my body. "Michel..." I warn, biting my lip.
"You know what I discovered tonight?" he asks leaning closer. "Women. Funny isn't it? My friends used to say I would never know what a woman was... Strange. Glad I spent my dear old grandmother's money..." He mumbles He looks absolutely distraught that he would even dare to do such a thing.
"Michel you didn't..." I say looking up into his eyes.
"Why not? My friends used to!" He exclaims, "She didn't ask for much..." He kicks the ground a few loose pieces of the dirt hit my bare legs. "Oh what have I turned into?" He places a hand over his face and emits a silent sob.
"Oh Michel," I say trying to be soothing. He seems extremely distraught, confused, and alone. I don't know how to help him besides pretending to be a caring friend, which isn't that hard. He bobs on his feet, and I catch him. We stand there, holding onto each other as if there wasn't another soul in the world.
"What happened to you?"
"I told you," He almost yells down at me. I jump back but he calms his voice to a low roar. "The revolution failed, and that in turn makes me a failure! All my life I've done nothing but try to please my parents. I went to boarding school! I did well in the university! I did everything, but did my father ever care? No that lousy bastard still doesn't love me. I haven't been able to live my life like I wanted to. I've never done anything I wanted to do, save for the barricade. I wanted that revolution to prove to Paris... to prove to him! I'm not who I want to be. Oh god..." He says with an almost sob. "I'm not this kind of person."
"Michel, you can be more than that. I know how you feel. I rob people to get by in life. I'm nothing but a low life thief. My father has made me do things for money. And... I just know how you feel," I say back to him, trying to hold the baby like tears in my eyes.
"Éponine..." He whispers looking down on me. I suddenly feel strange and sick, as if I was the one who drank too much.
"Michel. You need to get home," I say gently pushing him away. My heart is beating incredibly fast and I don't understand. He leans closer to me and takes my hands within his.
"I'm not ready to go home. I rather live dangerously. You know I begged them to kill me. What's the use of living?" He says pulling me closer. "I don't have any friends."
"You don't need no friends," I reply trying to hurry up the conversation.
"Then give me the next thing to friends. Whores and a bottle of wine," He says with a hearty laugh. I look up at him, greatly confused. Someone who was the head of a revolution now turned to dirty tricks and pleasures? The falling of the barricade really did take a toll on him. "Let me live with you on the streets! I don't want to go back. Ever," He begs. His grasp is tight, and I feel that sickening feeling in my stomach again. I don't know what is going on, but he holds on pleading with his eyes.
"You wouldn't survive even an hour," I reply trying to make him see, the street is no place for him. He drops my hands and looks at me strangely.
"But I survived the fight," He insists but I still push him away, gently. With his unbalanced self, that little movement sent him falling backwards. I try to catch him, but I fall onto of him. A stunning sensations runs through my body as our chests collide. I blame the sensation on the wound, which has not fully healed. He laughs aloud and I look down on his face confused at the humor in the fall. He places a hand on the middle of my back, and his other cups my chin. Within the next second, before I can even think, our lips touch heatedly. For a moment I lose myself in those soft lips, and I taste the alcohol on his them. I close my eyes and realize how his kiss is nothing like Montparnasse lustful ones. No no... Michel's kiss is... wait what am I doing? I pull away from him and sit on the ground next to him. He sits up, whiling feeling his lips.
"I can't..." I say feeling like I am going to vomit. My stomach is churning and I put a hand to my mouth.
"Éponine..." He starts, but I shake my head.
"No! Find your own way home!" I shout as I quickly pick up the bottom of the dress and begin running away. My mind spins as widely as a raging river. I soon find myself by that very river which I used to sleep by. I put my face in my hands as I hear footsteps coming up behind me. I listen to the raging river and try to ignore him.
"Michel leave me alone." I say not even turning around the face the drunken fool. He doesn't say anything. "Go!" His hand wraps tightly around my arm and he spins me around to face him. A horrid smack is delivered to my cheek and I crumple to the ground.
"I can't believe you!" The voice yells down upon me. I can feel him standing over me and I beginning to break down emotionally.
"Parnasse?" I mutter back my voice cracking with the tears. I hide my face my face in my hands as he almost strikes again. He pulls me up by my hair and I swing my fists at him, trying to hurt him in any way possible.
"How dare you?" He yells right next to my ear. "You are my property. Mine, and mine alone. Have you forgotten that? A thief may always steal and you are my one... theft I won't give up."
"I am not your property..." I mutter back to him trying to pry his hands from my hair. He draws his face up close to mine and asks me to repeat myself. "I am not your property. I'm not!" I sob in his face and he throws me to the ground with a disgusted scoff. I land on my hand and I cry out in the pain as it shoots up through my body.
"That kiss was nothing." He states calmly. "My God who would ever want to kiss an ugly beggar as you? Those punches probably knocked the sense out of his stupid student mind." He speaks coldly above me, and I don't move. I have lost all urges to fight. "Don't even bother coming home until your head is cleared of this nonsense." He stomps off into the night and I pull my self up to a sitting position.
"That kiss wasn't anything..." I repeat to myself softly. I reason with my mind, sorting fact from fiction. He was just overly emotional. That didn't mean anything.
That wasn't anything.
Whoa Whoa Whoa! What a chapter huh? I re-wrote this chapter so many times. I felt like it just wasn't right. I'm still not that happy with it, but I think it's good enough. Please review and have a great day! Lots of love readers!