Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight

Nonetheless, he did manage to chuckle.

"So much trust in someone you hardly know." It came out more like a question than a statement, and I treated it as such.

"Well, there's something about you...I don't know what. Call it a sixth sense if you will. Years of being on the streets around people that I knew were bad honed my skills at telling if a person is genuine and worth my time or not. Danger tends to make you learn how to judge if people mean you harm, and you don't mean me any. If you harm me, it won't be intentional." I shrugged after that statement and finished off my cereal while he contemplated what I had said.

"So, what did you want to do today? I mean, I did show up quite uninvited." I shrugged.

"I had nothing planned. All my homework is done and I don't have any chores considering I get them all done during the week. It keeps me busy so I don't cut. If I have to cut at all during the school year, I try to make it when we have a few days off. They have more time to heal then, and I don't have to worry about wincing if I rub them wrong or if my books chaff them. So my weekends are usually free. What did you have in mind?"

"How'd you know I had a plan?"

"The look on your face and your posture." I shrugged again. "It's something else you learn on the streets. Reading postures and faces. I'm pretty good at it by this point. I have to be, if I don't want to be shot." He tensed.

"Look, you're not that durable. You shouldn't be in that kind of danger." I bristled. I had heard that an angry me was not to be messed with and that I could be pretty damn scary. Now it was time to see just how scary I could be.

"Listen here you inconsiderate fool. I'm no child. I've been hanging around the people that Charlie calls the 'wrong sort' for more years than I care to count! I have really fucking good connections because of it. If I want to disappear, then I can because I know the people who can pull some strings and use some favors. I know the dangers, I knew when I started meeting with these people. Have I been shot at? Yeah, a hell of a lot. Have I ever been hit? No. And if Charlie can't seem to keep me out of trouble, I don't expect you to either!

"I've helped a lot of people get off of drugs! I said that I can tell about people. Well, I only hang with the ones that are depressed and just want a way out. I only hang with the ones that are roped into it by their parents or other friends or relatives. I help those people! The only people to shoot at me are the ones who decide to enter territory that isn't their own. I'm not helpless." I spat the last word out and could tell he was about to protest. Wordlessly, I strolled away and pulled all the curtains in the kitchen and pulled out my pistol.

Remaining wordless, I pulled out the jacket and showed him it was filled with ready-to-fire bullets. All live rounds. I then put it back into my holster I had fashioned for my calf and strolled outside. He followed me out into the woods and on a dime, I turned around, pulling the gun from its place and shooting a bird out of midair that had been flying right next to his head. I quickly turned to my right and shot two squirrels in quick succession and blasted a falling leaf on my left. I put the gun back and looked at him. It had taken less than half a minute.

"Still think I'm helpless and, to use your word choice, 'not that durable'?" I walked right past him and back into the house. I didn't worry about people hearing the shots-people in Forks were always hunting. He followed me and we sat down in the living room, me on the chair and him on the floor next to my legs.

"No, I don't. I've never met anyone quite like you Bella." I shrugged. "You shrug a lot." I purposefully shrugged this time, just to be difficult. "So, is there anything you'd like to do today?"

"Not really." He thought for another minute.

"Are you adverse to going to a club I know of?"

"What kind of club?" He hesitated.

"It's a club for goths, emos, and scene kids. I like it because everyone's nice and no one gives a shit who you are or what you look like. But if you don't want to..." He sounded a little, wary. Like he was afraid that he would offend me. It was the kind of tone that people used when they didn't want to offend me because they were afraid that I would hurt them.

"Sure. Let me go get something else on first." He followed me up and we talked while I changed. He faced the hallway wall and I was on the other side of the door, but it was ajar so we didn't have to shout to hear each other. He asked a few questions about previous friendships, although that was short-lived. I never really had any friends. I was a loner, and I had liked it that way.

"So what about relationships?" I snorted.

"I never had a relationship with anyone that meant anything. Not even Charlie. The closest I ever got to anyone was a one-night stand that ended up being repeated five or six times. He needed a good lay, and I needed a distraction." Knowing that he was going to ask why I participated in one-nighters in the first place, I saved him the breath. "I would sometimes cut too much to be safe or unnoticeable. Meaningless sex kept my mind off of the bubbles, and sometimes even made them go away for good for a day or two if I was lucky." I walked out of my room and headed straight for the stairs.

He quickly caught up and eyed my bag suspiciously. "So I can change before we get back. Charlie would kill me if he saw me like this." I turned and let his eyes take in my appearance.

I placed all of my facial piercings in (of which included: my bridge, snakebites, angel bites, right eyebrow, and tongue-although that one I usually left in since Charlie was unobservant and I usually didn't open my mouth too much when I talked.) I had put temporary hair color in my hair, and spiked it out as best as I could get it. They weren't liberty spikes, or sticking straight out, but they were close enough. It was messy enough that it said 'hey I was stick straight out, but I was recently screwed into a wall'. I had covered my face in enough makeup to make Miss Monroe from the first Playboy to be proud.

I had put on a leather, skin-tight vest and left most of it unzipped, leaving my many intertwined tattoos for perusal. Second-skin black pants covered my legs, the bottoms covered by my stilettoed combat boots. Chains adorned the entire ensemble, and a choker wrapped itself around my neck while a bullet belt and several others wrapped loosely around my hips, drawing the eyes downwards.

He visibly shivered as I stalked out the door to the car and got in.