The water called out to her, because nobody else ever had.
Look down... Look down...
The Seine seemed darker, colder, more threatening from under the bridge.
Black, the colour of despair...
Shivering, she crouched next to the bank, hugging her coat around her shoulders.
In her life... no one had ever offered her a heart full of love.
And so her heart was empty. Empty and cold.
All alone... She was on her own now.
The dark waters filled her gaze. She imagined the air leaving her lungs and the darkness closing in. She smiled. Yes, it would be easy to let go.
It will feel like nothing more than a little fall of rain... it couldn't hurt her now.
Her fingers skimmed the surface, and a frozen feeling crept through her bones. She couldn't do it. It was too cold.
Backing up, she pressed her back against the bottom of the bridge. No, she would stay here.
Who was she?
Eponine.
I believe the backstory of Morgenstern being the author is actually fiction, to create a sort of story-within-a-story.
And thanks for the fav!