When We Were Young

Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I walk through the door of the inn beaming, the book under my arm. Marius told me to keep it so that I could practice my reading before our next lesson.

"Eponine," my father's voice booms from his office.

My body tenses. I try to hide the book under the folds of my dress, but my father's out of the room and walking towards me in a blink of an eye.

"What's this?" he spats, yanking it out from my hands. "A book? What are you doing with this?"

"I... Umm..."

The words get caught up in my throat. Somehow, I know that whatever I say will be the wrong answer.

"Well?"

I gulp. Come on, Eponine... Say something.

"I'm learning to read," I admit.

My father instantly starts to laugh, hard, too hard.

"That's a good one," he exclaims. "Listen to me, little girl. You're not allowed to learn anything unless I say so."

"But, papa!"

"I'm stopping this delusion of yours right now."

He starts marching towards the living room. Oh, no. I know his intention. He's going to the fireplace. He's going to burn the book.

"No!" I cry out. "Papa, please!"

It's not even mine, it's Marius's. He can't do this.

"That'll shut you up," my father snaps.

And with a flick of the hand, the book is falling in the middle of the flames. I can't help but scream, running to it. My father grabs me by the back of my dress and pulls me back. I try fighting him, but that's when his hand comes flying up and slaps me hard across the cheek. It instantly starts to burn. I drop to my knees, crying.

"Stop crying, you pathetic girl," he spats.

He turns around and walks away as I'm left to watch the book being devoured by flames.

I suddenly hear a hiccup behind me and spin around. Cosette is there, watching me from behind the staircase.

"What are you looking at?" I hiss, wiping the tears from my eyes.

She quickly hops on her feet and bolts up the stairs.

"Yeah," I mutter. "That's what I thought."

I turn back towards the fireplace. The book is almost all gone, pieces of burnt paper flying up in the air. In a moment of desperation, I extend my arm and grab what remains. My other hand flies to my mouth as I bite down on it to prevent a scream to escape my mouth. Less than a second later, the book -or what's left of it- is out, the flames extinguished on the carpet. I get a good glimpse at it and start crying again.

There it is, my dream, reduced to a pile of ash. I don't even care about my burnt hand, all I can feel is the pain of losing something I've been wanting for so long.

You're going to pay, papa. I don't know when. I don't know how. But I'm going to make you pay for this.

Forget sweet, kind and gentle Eponine. Today, you changed everything. Today, Eponine Thénardier will become the girl everyone thinks she already is. A dirty, lying, manipulative street scum just like her father.

And thus, the Jondrette Girl was born.