Hey! So this is a one-shot about Eponine's miserable life. (Hey, it's not called "Les Miserables" for nothing!) I'm a bit rusty on my Miz knowledge, so if I made a mistake, please let me know! Hope you enjoy!

Note: I don't own Les Miz. That would be Victor Hugo.

Eponine leaned against the wall and sunk to her knees, the last bit of strength she possessed failing her.

Marius did not love her.

Her father used her.

Montparanesse and his friends had just now used her for their own desires.

The world used her. The world hated her.

Sometimes, Eponine would dream of her and Marius walking down the street, hand in hand, laughing and picking each other flowers and speaking in that language only lovers could understand. She wore a nice pretty dress and a lace-trimmed bonnet, while her Marius wore his best evening clothes during the day, in the hope of impressing her.

Her Marius. That sounded nice. Eponine let the words "Eponine Pontmercy" roll over her tongue. They tasted like candy, a treat she hadn't tasted since she was a little girl.

Eponine bit her dry, cracked lips and rubbed her eyes. The ladies of the night and their customers were just starting to emerge from the darkness, and Eponine knew that wasn't a safe time to be out. Not that her life was safe anyways. Standing feebly and tidying her clothes the best she could, she began to walk towards home. She hadn't taken five steps, however, when someone grabbed her arm.

"Hey! Leave me alone!" Eponine screamed.

She turned to see Marius Pontmercy, smiling at her. "It's okay, I won't hurt you. I just wanted to say...thank you. For helping me."

"Oh, it was nothing, Monsieur," Eponine said shyly. "But...you're welcome."

"Would you like money?"

"No, no, Monsieur, keep your money," Eponine said hurriedly. "Now, you'd better go. This is not a safe place to be at night. And it would not look good if you were to be seen here, with me."

Marius smiled and kissed her cheek. "Thank you...'Ponine."

Eponine watched him as he left, open-mouthed. She knew he loved Cosette. But that kiss...It seemed so genuine.

Eponine shook her head. "You're being foolish," she told herself. "Go home, 'Ponine."

But still...That kiss had reminded her that there was still hope.

Did you like it? or is Victor Hugo rolling in his grave? Please review!