I was only 14 when the soldiers came. Me and Jacques and Gavroche were fishing. Gavroche had just turned 12, and Gabriel was the baby at 6. I remember Gabriel laughing when the fish I caught flopped around on the pier. I never heard that laugh again. Maman was inside our humble home, teaching little Genevieve how to cook the fish we had caught.
We were all happy. Today had been Gavaroche’s birthday. To celebrate, Papa had gone to the market to get some sugar and butter so as to make Gavroche a little cake. Only, Papa never brought the items home, the cake was never made.
In the faraway distance, I heard footsteps and a small pop. I don’t know what I thought it was, but I thought it wasn’t important. I was wrong.
Genevieve is the only reason I survived. She had gone to the market to look for Papa and came back running. I knew something was wrong because Genevieve never ran anywhere, not if she could help it.
“Strange men with guns! Soldiers! Run!” She wailed.