A Promise

Chapter Thirty-Three

Vauquelin's nails dug into my skin as he dragged me into the dark prison. I let my head hang in defeat, feeling like a lamb being led to the slaughter. Vauquelin, on the other hand, pushed his shoulders back and walked with his head held high, the corners of his lips curled upward in a triumphant gloat. He marched me straight to my new cell and shoved me into the tiny little room. I fell forward onto the hard stone floor. Vauquelin quickly locked my cell and stood outside, still gloating.

"When will my trial be?" I asked him. Vauquelin merely laughed.

"Trial? There's no trial for you, Thenardier. Everyone knows you're a heartless thief. We don't need a trial to prove it."

"But that's not fair!" I argued helplessly.

"I don't care," Vauquelin spat. "You're not going to have a trial. You are staying in this cell for the rest of your worthless life." With that, Vauquelin marched away.

When he was gone, I looked around my new home, if you could call that filthy cell a home. There were cobwebs hanging on the walls, and the air was full of dust. The entire cell was made of a dark grey stone, and the ground was damp and cold. The only light came from a tiny window carved in the door to my cell. I stared around the tiny room, but I could find no way of escaping. A sense of helplessness overwhelmed me, and I collapsed on the floor, tears running down my cheeks. "I'm sorry, Enjolras," I whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay by your side." Another pang of hopeless came when I remembered the revolution. Who had survived the final fight? Was Marius still alive? What about Grantaire, or Combeferre, or Courfeyrac? Oh God, what if they were all dead? I let a sob escape from my lips, and suddenly I began crying hysterically. The cries became louder and more desperate until I was hyperventilating. I dug my fingernails into my skin, rocking back and forth on the ground. My cries must have annoyed the guards, for the door to my cell swung open, and there stood a fat prison guard. He was about fifty years old with grey hair and a large mole above his upper lip. He glared at me in disgust and marched over to me.

"Shut up, filth," he growled, kicking me hard in the side. I let out a grunt of pain and forced myself to choke back tears.

"Look at you," the guard said, leering at me. "The notorious Eponine Thenardier doesn't look so tough now, does she?"

I ignored him and stared down at my hands. My silence only seemed to irritate the guard even more.

"You will answer me when I ask a question, filth!" he yelled, kicking my again. The force of his blow knocked the wind out of me.

"I'm sorry, Monsieur," I muttered, clutching my side in agony.

"I don't like you, Thenardier," the guard growled.

"I've noticed," I muttered sarcastically.

"Are you giving me attitude, girl?" the guard yelled. "Maybe I should teach you a lesson about respect!"

I stared up at him with hatred burning in my eyes. He was one of the bastards keeping me away from my Enjolras. "I will never respect you," I said venomously.

The guard's eyes narrowed. "Then you will pay the consequences," he said in a dangerously low voice.

Suddenly, his hand shot out and grabbed the neck of my shirt. He pulled me up off the ground and stood me on my feet. Then he punched me in the eye with all of his might. Normally, I would have fought back, but I was so broken with heartbreak and sadness that I did not have the strength to defend myself. I merely stood there, looking down at my feet, waiting for the next blow. This time, he punched me in the stomach. I felt the urge to cry out in pain, but I did not want to give him that satisfaction, so I bit my tongue instead. The guard pushed me against the wall, and I fell to the ground once again. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. Then, he slammed my forehead into the hard stone wall. Pain shot through my head, and my vision began to blur. Again and again, he slammed my head into the wall. Just before I passed out, another guard rushed into the room and pulled him off me.