Eponine whimpered again as he hissed. It hurt, hurtso much. She could feel blood beginning to trickle down her neck. Montparnasse had never cut her this much. Eponine tried to swallow, but she tasted blood and spat out.

"Come back?" Her whisper is gurgled. Tears began to form and spill down her cheeks. Don't mange moi. You aren't an atiguer."

She's urging him not to kill her. She's telling him he isn't a killer, but in her panic, her pain, only argot will come to her mind. But her words are hollow. She doesn't know Draco from Adam. How does she know he isn't a killer? Her instinct is to kick and she tries to again, though she keeps her neck as still as possible so the knife doesn't cut deeper. Tears are coming faster and faster, and somewhere, in the back of her mind, she's ashamed. "Don't kill me."