My mother once told me before she left that charming held nothing for for me but pain and grief. At the time I couldn't fathom a reason anyone would hate Charming. I couldn't understand the hate reflected in her eyes. Now, I realize it was simply what became of Charming, the club was the town. It was the core. The poisoned apple and their corruption spread outwards. The name tainted the air and the unmarked graves the sons left in their wake contaminated the soil. Wherever you stepped presence of violence was there by your side, forever haunting. Those who claimed to not be affiliated with the sons only fooled themselves, the town was their domain and their was no part left untouched.

1989

The clubhouse was unrecognizable in the light, somehow a bit less intimidating. Without the crowds of people that often free to the gates like moths at night the bar seemed smaller. There was a permanent stench so deeply ingrained into the walls it would never come out. The air was polluted by it and the seemingly ever presence of smoke. The walls were decorated as any male populated areas would be, radiating masculinity. The carpet was littered with stains of all varieties along with any other fabrics presiding. The flaws of the establishment however gave it character and its inhabitants personified it. Yet empty as it was at the present moment that spark was non-existent and for the lonely soul at the edge of the bar it felt uncharacteristically lonely.

Eyes blankly staring down at the bar top, the young girl sat in complete silence swaying lightly in the squeaky high bar stool. Beside her lay a discarded bookbag that was ragged and decorated with sharpie scribbles and several metal pins. One of her hands held the weight of her head while the other determinedly worked to scrape the paint of the bar top.

The sudden slamming of the of the heavy entrance door zapped some but of life into the poor girl yet she remained in her same position as the intruders made their presence known. The familiar smell of diesel wafted off of all their skin and that ever presence of smoke became apparent. The three of them ranted on about their work, passing insults and jokes between them as they made themselves comfortable at the bar popping off the loss of their beers.

Everyone often assumed that the small girl must have been the center of attention in such a large family. However, there were many of the member's children that often visited Teller-Morrow and for the big burly men with teenage antics she wasn't anymore special than the rest.

Nora Winston often felt the need to prove herself to those men. Her life was unknowingly centered around the club. She often struggled to find her place in it.

There's times I wish it was possible to go back.. To never have chosen to stay in charming. There was no denying the pull. There's this invisible rope, it wraps around your neck and pulls you in. The club drags you back gasping and struggling, no matter how hard you tug the pull only gets stronger.

There's something about Charming.. It's like time stops at the city limits and your stuck in some sickening time warp. It's a cursed place. Perhaps god had a way punishing us for all the sins of Charming's inhabitants.

Or maybe it was just the home of the devil himself…

"What's up, pip-squeak?" A large hand planted itself on her head giving her hair a patronising ruffle. Nora smiled up at her new companion a brightness returning to her life. The joyful eyes of Jax Teller stared down at her wiping out every sense of loneliness from her escence. "Your Dad forget to leave the house key again?"

"Yeah." She shifted her weight on the stool in hopes to hide her nerves. "I walked. I thought Opie was here."

He leaned down arms rested on the bar top and looked over his shoulder as her brother came through the door. The expression on Opie's face was as plain as day. Annoyance. However, if one took a moment to really look they would see the disappointment hidden in his eyes. Not in little Nora but in his Father.

As the two young boys look at one another there was a conversation brewing within. No words would ever be needed. For the two were brothers, not by blood, but by the soul bonding connection so rare that many never find. Jax nodded, firm and calm. It conveyed their feelings with such simplicity an outsider would never understand. "Come on, doll." He spoke to the smaller Winston. "We'll find some trouble to keep you occupied."

That devil.

He's oh so charming...