Reflections. How I used to love them so. Mother would take us out to the river running alongside the quaint village where Father's inn was... of course, the Lark would come along. She didn't look at her reflection, and it wasn't hard to guess why. She was a pitiful thing... I had no real reason to hate her, but I did anyway. After all, so did my sister. We were just easily-influenced children, following our mother's example. How were we supposed to know it was the wrong one?

When I looked at my reflection, I saw the cute little girl everyone always said I was. Every sober person (although there were few) had said I was a doll, with my little collection of hats and dresses. No one knew about our little indentured maid, whose mother we were secretly scamming. Of course, I didn't know about this either. How could I have?

After the Lark left us, the inn hit some hard times. We eventually lost it and had to move to a tiny shack where all we did was scam philanthropists. And my little girl-cuteness turned into womanly ugliness. One cannot live in poverty and retain their good looks, it fades like a sunset, only instead of in brilliant shades of pink and orange it's in shades of black and gray, bleak colors which describe the turn your life has just taken.

And at the same time, the Lark was apparently growing more beautiful and stunning as time went on; while I was turning the opposite each day. I still had my beauty, but it was a wretched kind of beauty.

Perhaps my decreasing self-esteem was what made me latch onto Marius so quickly. The only man who paid attention to me, I fell hopelessly in love with him. So hopelessly in love, and all the while he viewed me as his errand girl. When he asked me to help him find Cosette, I decided once and for all that indeed, what goes around comes around. Apparently a miserable past beats a miserable present when it comes to the male population. Forget the fact that my father had my sister punch a hole through the window with her bare fist just so Monsieur Madeline (A/N: I think that's Valjean's alias at the time) would give us a little pity. If he had known the real truth, I think he would have given us a lot more. Maybe he would have taken me away, as he did Cosette, so long ago...

That is just idealistic. I am too horrible to even dream of something taking me away from this hideous life. I deserve what I'm getting... I don't deserve Marius' love, either. After all we did to Cosette, she's the one who deserves his love...

At least, I keep telling myself that...

A/N: I'm doing a Les Miserables monologue theme, can't you tell? Eponine is my VERY favorite character, and this practically wrote itself. Don't ask me when she's thinking this... maybe before she runs off to the barricades. Anyway, sorry it's so short...Please r/r, but be nice!

Disclaimer: Eponine, Cosette, Marius, the plot, and everything but the writing itself belongs to Victor Hugo.