A Promise

Chapter Five

        Two of the men, Mattieu and Maurice, grabbed my arms. I struggled against their iron grips. "You'll regret this," I warned them. All four men laughed. "We'll be rolling in the riches soon, boys!" the first man, Philippe, declared. I growled and struggled some more, but they would not loosen their hold on me. Then, I had an idea. I swung my right leg in the air and kicked Matthieu in the shin as hard as I could. He yelped in pain, and I felt his hand loosen slightly on my arm. I wrenched my arm away and used the momentum to slap Maurice across the face.

        "Ouch!" Maurice cried, dropping my arm and clutching his cheek.

        I tried to run away, but Philippe grabbed on to my waist. "You're not going anywhere," he hissed in my ear. I kicked and thrashed, but I could not free myself. "Stop struggling!" he yelled at me.

        "Yeah, I'm really likely to do that," I said sarcastically. I stepped on his foot, and he released me. I fell to the ground. Victor grabbed a handful of my hair used it to pull me up so that I was face to face with him.

        "It's a shame you'll spend the rest of your days rotting away in jail," he said, licking his thick lips. "You're a pretty little thing." I wrinkled my nose and spat into his eye. His face contorted in rage. He punched me in the stomach, and I doubled over, wheezing and coughing. Maurice kicked me to the ground. Well, this is not going as well as I planned, I thought. I tried to stand up, but Matthieu pushed me into the dust once again. This time, as I fell to the ground, I rolled over my foot and felt an explosion of pain in my ankle. Grinding my teeth in pain, I tried to stand up again, but my ankle seemed to scream in agony. Philippe raised his fist to hit me again. I cringed, unable to defend myself. Suddenly, I heard a deep voice call out my name.

        "Eponine! Hey, leave her alone! Get away from her!"

        Philippe dropped his fist and turned to the source of the voice. I turned, too, and my mouth fell open in shock.

        "Monsieur Enjolras?" I muttered in disbelief. It was indeed the Marble Man. His golden curls blew in the wind, and his eyes were narrowed, giving Philippe a dangerous glare.

        "Why do you care about this street rat?" Philippe demanded. I was glad he asked, because that was exactly the same question that continued to nag me. I had attempted to scam him, not to mention the fact that I had stolen his ring, and yet here he was, trying to protect me. I could not understand it. I was worthless to him, a filthy street rat and thief. Why would he waste his time with me?

        "She is not a street rat, Monsieur. She is a girl. Let her be," Enjolras commanded. The icy coldness in his glare was enough to freeze a roaring fire.

        Philippe frowned. "Now, see here, Monsieur, she is a thief! A wanted criminal! She just tried to pickpocket me! The police are offering a monetary reward for her capture!"

        "Is her freedom something you can buy and sell, Monsieur?" Enjolras asked icily. Philippe did not respond. Enjolras sighed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of money. "A hundred francs to leave here and pretend you never saw her," he said, handing the money to Philippe. "And if that is not a good enough incentive for you, then maybe this is." Without changing his cold, marble expression, Enjolras opened his coat to reveal a pistol in the inside pocket. Philippe's eyes widened.

        "C'mon, boys, let's get out of here," he muttered. The four men turned and left, divying up the money as the went along. Then, Enjolras turned to me. His cold expression had not changed.

        "Looks like you bit off a bit more than you can chew, didn't you, Thenardier?"

        I scowled and stood up, ignoring the pain in my ankle. "He messed with me first," I said flatly. "And, for the record, I had that situation under control. I didn't need your help."

        Enjolras returned my scowl. "Typically, Mademoiselle, when a man saves a woman, the woman in return offers the man a show of gratitude."

        I rolled my eyes. "Fine!" I said, then batted my eyelashes at him. Raising my voice to a high-pitched, lofty squeak and mocking the accent of a typical bourgeois, I said, "Why, Monsieur Enjolras, thank you so much for saving me! You are my hero! How shall I ever repay you? I know! Let's get married and live happily ever after!" Then, I returned to my normal voice. "Is that good enough for you, Monsieur?"

        "A simple 'thank you' would have sufficed," Enjolras said.

        "Whatever," I replied. "I still think I had that situation under control."

        "Well, it didn't look that way to me," Enjolras replied. "Although, I think I believe you. You Thenardiers are a clever bunch. I'm sure you've gotten yourself in and out of worse situations. Still, I at least saved you a few bruises and broken bones."

        "What, do you want a medal?" I said unpleasantly.

        "Someone's in a bad mood," Enjolras said. I shrugged and began to walk away. Suddenly, pain shot up my ankle, and I gasped, stumbling to the ground.

        "What's wrong?" Enjolras asked, catching me as I fell.

        "Nothing," I muttered, trying to ignore the pain. Gingerly, I tried to put weight on my foot. I winced as another shot of pain burst through my ankle like lightning. "I think I broke my ankle," I said.

        "Come to my house," Enjolras suggested. "My friend Joly is a medical student. He can patch you up in no time."

        "No thanks," I replied. I was definitely not going to be a damsel-in-distress. "It's just my ankle. I'll be fine." I tried to limp away.

        "I'll cook you food," Enjolras suggested. "Good food. And  you can sit on a comfortable couch in front of the fire and eat as much as you want while your ankle heals."

        I froze. Okay, that sounded tempting. I was still reluctant to accept help from him, but if he insisted on giving me food... "All right," I relented. "I'll go. But only for the food."

        Enjolras smiled. It was the first time I had ever seen him smile, and it seemed to transform his face. His eyes lit up and he looked friendly and agreeable. Dimples appeared on his cheeks. He almost looked... handsome. "All right, Mademoiselle," he said, offering me his arm. "Shall we?"