A/N: Hello, so this is my first les miz fan fic, I'm so nervous 'cause this is a piece that is so personal to me, I really put myself in this words, I hope not to bother you with this so much. Thanks to a beautiful person called Beatriz I'm here writing you this and having the courage to take risks, this is dedicated to her, because she is an amazing writer and true friend. Sorry if I have grammatical mistakes but English is not my native language (it's Spanish, by the way). I hope you enjoy it from the beginning to the end. And of course I have a little obsession with Les Miserables, a beautiful musical that I really love. Thanks for taking the time to read it. I hope you read it ´till the end.

Prologue- The introduction of a lonely soul.

She was alone. Alone in life, alone in everything.

Her life was reigned by loneliness. She was one of those people that you would see in the street and feel pity for. Always walking with her head down, looking at the floor since she was a little kid, with bad posture and an emotionless expression on her face, imagining a life of fantasy that could never be and sometimes smiling at a sudden memory of a moment far from her reality. If she has the misfortune of walking in a street full of people, unconsidered people who are late to work or think that the entire world revolves around them will probably hit her. Then, the victim of this particular act of selfishness, assuming the fault will whisper, ''I'm sorry,'' receiving a glare containing no interest or morals, will continue to her destination, a little hesitant but trying to look secure and focus on her task, fearing from the deepest parts of her soul that someone could see her insecurity: a characteristic of hers.

Indeed she was an interesting character. With brown curls that shined in the sun that fell in waves upon her shoulders and kept falling a little bit, always messy and out of place. She has an obsession with her hair, she looks herself at the mirror, that distorted thing that could reflect all her complexes in one look, and then she would try anything to make them be okay. After a long time she would look in the mirror again and say that it's worst, or if she were lucky she would say that it's not that bad - she alone could destroy herself. She has a fringe that covers her forehead and sometimes when she hasn't had the time to go to the haircut, the fringe almost covers her eyes, helping her hide from the people around her.

They say that the eyes are the doors to the soul, well, then, in this case this statement applies. Her brown eyes are small with dark circles because she prefers stay awake when she is meant to be sleeping. If you look at them directly you will see one thing: evasion. Little eyelashes adorn them, (to her disgrace) in a minimalistic sense. You'll hardly see them spill tears; for her it's like opening up to someone: too risky, too dangerous. One advantage of their size is that she can fake or hide her true feelings. Be prepared for a cautious person.

Her lips were chapped and dry thanks to the lack of water, that she has never had the habit of drinking. They are sometimes almost red, without the need of makeup, caused by her biting them when she is nervous or anxious; on occasions she has made them bleed. But most of the time they are pink, making her seem younger. These lips hide a beautiful smile that a small number of people have seen, that smile that can illuminate your day or make you feel better in days when everything seems dark. She has different smiles. The fake smiles are the ones that she uses most of the time, they are not special and don't seem to fit in her face. And the genuine smiles are unique and you won't forget. Those smiles are reserved.

Her body is not a subject that we can touch with a big easiness. Still I'll tell you the most important aspects:

Her skin is almost white on her beautiful and long neck, because the clothes she wears doesn't show her rough and irregular skin. She doesn't care for her skin, she doesn't care for her.

She has curves, a waist that you can see with a quick, simple look, and her chest still doesn't have the volume that she wants, yet she ignores peoples' words about how she is still a girl and that she has to be patient, something that she is not.

Her abdomen is not flat. She is not fat, she is not thin. She needs to stop eating unhealthy food, but she can't. The reason? Anxiety. She is too lazy to exercise. Despite continuous promises to herself that she will, she fails.

Her fingers are self-mutilated with very short, destroyed nails. But when she dances, she moves those hands so softly that it's almost as if they where made of crystal. They are beautiful in their own way.

In school, she is the one that is always alone at lunch, and when the teacher says, ''make teams,'' she shivers because she knows that she will be sitting in her chair and waiting for the teams to be made, then one of her classmates will have to pick her because he needs another person and she is the only one alone. She is a dedicated student- you could say that she is intelligent, and the lack of social life at this temple of knowledge makes her focus more on books and notebooks. She respects all her teachers and classmates even if they annoy her with their immature behavior, and don't respect her (something that she is really used to) because since she was a girl they taught her that ''you have to treat the others like you want to be treated'', unfortunately the others don't think the same. She is the strange type that doesn't enjoy shopping, or gossiping, or listening to the latest pop music, or going to parties, so she learned to be on her own since she was little. The people never gave her a chance to show them how she was above that neglected appearance and stony expression. First appearances can be deceitful.

Her favorite subject is history. For being more precise: History of the XIX century.

The library is one of her favorite places: silent, comfortable, and peaceful. The smell of books and the bookshelves that decorate the walls of this magical place are beautiful, almost unreal. Time seems to stop and her imagination is left to wander. She loves to read, classical books are her favorite ones, but she can read all of them, except scientific ones, she can't stand the science with scientific and confusing terms, only when they explain it properly she pays attention. The romantic novels are fantastic when they are realistic and tragic. The books are truly her best friends.

She has never been loved. She always has an unrequited love. Nobody ever has told her that they love her. She falls for a person only because he is a true gentleman and is nice and sweet to her, something that not all the people are. But when she falls in love it's difficult to get over him. In all her life without love, she has loved 7 people, none having returned the sentiments. Still, she is a romantic person, and very dramatic, making the easiest things a complicated problem. Her hopes are almost dead.

Her parents are a subject that can wait for another chapter; she has a mother who suffers from depression and a father with a bad temper. This family is broken and has no communication, something that makes her feel lonelier.

She has no brothers or sisters, she is an only child, making her shy and introverted. But remember that most of the time, the shy people are the ones who listen better, like her. And even if their life is a mess, she always advises you and worries about you, even if no one worries about her. She is a good friend that can keep secrets, fulfill her promises, and support you. She would do anything for you and makes witty comments. Makes you have a fun time and is always there, helping you in any way she can.

She has a good memory that for so many people would be awesome, but for her it's not. She remembers all her mistakes and repeats them almost automatically, she feels that she does everything wrong and that she is useless. And when she really likes something she quickly becomes obsessed with that, and talks of that every time that she has the opportunity. People grow tired of that, but she doesn't.

The only one that knew her was the paper; all her thoughts were there, leaving her soul there and only there, the words beautifully written to make the most daily thing into something that could be a story. Her means to express her were the arts. She had a passion for literature, ballet, opera, music and theater, in fact her dream was becoming a writer, and an actress of musical theater that were hobbies for many people including her old friends that told her as a kid that they were going to become actors or musicians or dancers and nowadays you can see them in an office, having a common and very stressful job. She wasn't one of those people that quit when something becomes hard, she did once and she was very sorry, it was never going to happen again, she promised to herself.

Her life is the arts, and without them she just couldn't live.

Her days were full of problems, and at the end of the day she would be in bed with a restless mind, imagining a dream life with no problems, or her mistakes repeating and repeating again to the point of making her believe that she was useless or stupid. If that wasn't the case, she would imagine herself with the one that she loved, with her luck that person would never see her, but in her fantasies he would make time time to speak with her and he would see her true self, and in time they would fall in love. Then she would give up and rest.

A detail that I should had mentioned a time ago. Her name? Donna.

A/N: For the ones who made it ´till the end, congratulations! I really hope you liked it, you can give me any kind of criticism, I take it very personal but it works to improve my writing. You can review and follow and favorite it. Feel free to send me a PM cause I'm glad of answer questions or make big talks about Les Mis. Thank you so much. Even if I don't know you, have a good day, hugs and kisses.

*Thanks to my beautiful new beta: love-never-dies-90 :DDD I love you :DD

Atte: An amateur and complicated writer called Dona.