[ There's no answer, just a furious grunt of effort as Julie tightens her grip and flings both of them to the ground, pushing Eponine below herself to plant a knee in her stomach and hold her down. Her fist comes down against Eponine's nose with a truly repulsive crunch.
Her own face is bleeding, dripping down onto Eponine, and she can't tell which blood belongs to which one of them. Not that it makes a difference or gives her pause; she just keeps going, using her grasp on Eponine's scalp to slam her head back on the stone floor.
Even she knows it's overkill now, but she can't stop herself. This isn't about petty insults or who got a bigger piece of bread -- this is the culmination of resurrection and imprisonment in a new world, of a terrifying death, of unthinkable suffering before it all. This is release, as misplaced as it is, of hate and rage and fear all pushed down for the better part of year.
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Her own face is bleeding, dripping down onto Eponine, and she can't tell which blood belongs to which one of them. Not that it makes a difference or gives her pause; she just keeps going, using her grasp on Eponine's scalp to slam her head back on the stone floor.
Even she knows it's overkill now, but she can't stop herself. This isn't about petty insults or who got a bigger piece of bread -- this is the culmination of resurrection and imprisonment in a new world, of a terrifying death, of unthinkable suffering before it all. This is release, as misplaced as it is, of hate and rage and fear all pushed down for the better part of year.
She feels at least one finger break. ]