"Yes." Eponine pauses, trying to articulate how she feels. For once, she actually stops and evaluates her words.
"Yes, I do. I would love to be someone else. I wish I could be pretty and have a life where people love me and want me. You know, Nadine were teaching me reading and writing proper? I can read and write, Sir, but sometimes, it's a bit slow. My Mama, when we were little, she learned me my letters and reading and writing and that, and my Pa teaches me numbers and adding and that, but she makes it better. Well, she was. But..." she sighs.
"Perhaps I am just that sort of a person? As much as I hate to be so, someone has to be on the bottom of society, no? I wish I were pretty but..."
Eponine looks down at her feet. It's hard for her to admit, to open up and share how she actually feels.
"Sir, do you know what it's like, over and over, for all of the life you remember, to be called names? I am whore, bitch, slut, gamine, c- well. I hear it so often that I don't care. I answer and laugh and shout back. But it never stops. And soon, that is all I am. For years, Sir, no one has used my name. I am 'girl' or slut or so. And then you become what you are named, no? And even here, I try to escape it, but... but it doesn't go away. I am Eponine, the woman so desperate for food that she will do anything she's told. I hear the rumours, even before I had acted on them? So what is the point? Every time I try to make myself better, I am pushed straight back. It is a struggle against the tide, Sir, and I am so exhausted that I cannot swim no more. My heart hurts too much to fight."
no subject
"Yes, I do. I would love to be someone else. I wish I could be pretty and have a life where people love me and want me. You know, Nadine were teaching me reading and writing proper? I can read and write, Sir, but sometimes, it's a bit slow. My Mama, when we were little, she learned me my letters and reading and writing and that, and my Pa teaches me numbers and adding and that, but she makes it better. Well, she was. But..." she sighs.
"Perhaps I am just that sort of a person? As much as I hate to be so, someone has to be on the bottom of society, no? I wish I were pretty but..."
Eponine looks down at her feet. It's hard for her to admit, to open up and share how she actually feels.
"Sir, do you know what it's like, over and over, for all of the life you remember, to be called names? I am whore, bitch, slut, gamine, c- well. I hear it so often that I don't care. I answer and laugh and shout back. But it never stops. And soon, that is all I am. For years, Sir, no one has used my name. I am 'girl' or slut or so. And then you become what you are named, no? And even here, I try to escape it, but... but it doesn't go away. I am Eponine, the woman so desperate for food that she will do anything she's told. I hear the rumours, even before I had acted on them? So what is the point? Every time I try to make myself better, I am pushed straight back. It is a struggle against the tide, Sir, and I am so exhausted that I cannot swim no more. My heart hurts too much to fight."