She sees me.

She knows who I am. Her mouth opens as she silently says my name. She sees my arm hanging limp and useless at my side. She sees my ruined leg covered in dark blood. Then she gazes up at the screaming Tiger. And a strange look comes over her.

She drops the syringe and rolls it across the floor toward me. I grab it with my good hand and tuck it under my body as I slowly raise myself. She watches me with a hungry expression. I manage to stand and look down at the syringe. It’s full.

The Tiger is yelling unintelligible things to Thénardier. He’s clamped his hand across his cheek, but then, it’s hard to talk clearly when there’s a gaping hole in your face. His blood is everywhere, and his words are incoherent. Thénardier is watching him, gun in hand, cocking his head to one side like a dog considering his options.

“Shoot her!” the Tiger mouths, blood streaming from his lips. That instruction, at least, is clear. Ettie is in a corner, clutching a tall wooden candelabra like a weapon. It looks heavy in her arms, and she’s carrying it all wrong.

“I always back the winning side,” Thénardier says calmly to the Tiger. “And right now, you might not be winning.” And to the Tiger’s great horror, Thénardier puts his gun back into his belt and looks to me.

“No hard feelings,” he says cheerily. “If you survive the night, I’ll make you my Master of Thieves.” Then, with a last grin, he leaves the room.

Ettie advances on the Tiger, dragging the lamp with her. The Tiger is crouched low, like a wrestler. His eyes are mad with a rage that burns stronger than his pain. Even injured, he’s terrifying.

Ettie’s eyes are wide, wary. He lunges at her, and she swings the lamp. But the weight of it makes her slow. He lands on top of her, driving her into the wall with a loud thud, and tries to wrest the lamp from her. She’s shrieking and yelling like a hellcat, so he doesn’t notice me drag myself across the room behind him. All he feels is the stab of the needle deep in his neck, the drug coursing into his blood, filling him with his own drugs.

He rises and bats me away. One blow and I’m thrown to the floor. He grabs the syringe and yanks it out of his neck. But the drug is strong, and already it is taking effect. He stumbles like a maddened animal, barely able to stand. His movements become slow, stupid, less frightening.

Ettie is on her feet, the lamp in her hand again. She raises it, but he can hardly see her, blinded by pain and dizziness. She swings it at his head, and this time it hits him full force. He crumples to the floor, his limbs trembling, and tries to speak, but all we hear is an animal’s growl. Ettie advances on him, and raises the lamp again. She brings it down on his back. He cries out, and tries to crawl away from her. But she follows him like an avenging angel, raising the lamp above her once more; her eyes fill with rage and tears as she brings it down on him a third time.