A/N : Just a snack before work tomorrow. More tomorrow. This one going back to high school years. Then, more on 'present' after this hurdle; the end of 'young' years.

..::.. Chapter 9 - Pockets ..::..

Young - high school, continued …

No one knows I carry his gun. At night, when we go out, and the gang is all around laughing, staggering in their shoes with the alcohol pumping through their systems, they're oblivious about the cold metal in my pocket. He slips it in, sometimes against my back, while he kisses me the moment he sees me. I've grown accustomed to wearing his large jacket. I hide enough of whatever he needs in each pocket. He asks, and I hand it over. Even mint gum. He thankfully asks for that more regularly. He chews and chews, pops a few balloons and slides it over my tongue when he has enough of the juice.

I keep a pack of that and his favorite cigarettes. He carries nothing but his regular, ragged, dated clothes and this smirk on his lips, but only when he sees me. Everyone else gets malicious glares.

People fear him. I sometimes do, but not enough to challenge him. We argue. We yell. Mostly about me wanting to go wherever he goes or my objection to his dangerous intentions. He gets raging angry and punches at anything before it grows silent between us. Then he's goo at my feet asking for forgiveness. I know he always comes around. I get my word in. He listens.

It all began the night I interrupted the Cullen men in a meeting. I was in the room; a fly on the wall, until I wasn't.

"Don't charge in. Hit them where it really hurts. Take away what they live off of," is what I suggested. I spoke up. Everyone in the room stared.

I was just a visitor. The girl at his side, quite literally. Edward pulled me on his lap, and that's where I stayed all night. The chair swiveled beneath us, the library room floor was clear of Joe's blood. My parents, not a hundred yards away, oblivious to their daughter making plans, speaking up, fleshing out what the next steps should be to avenge Edward's father.

The McCarthys would pay, and that was the plan.

Jasper blinked after getting stuck watching me really close.

"That works," he said. Everyone else took a moment to let it sink in. Bullheaded, they just thought of the gruesome ways to harm, not the passive, but deadly ones. Their minds full of violence overshadowed the clever and effective ways. I sat wondering if the lifestyle they upheld really did seem as cliché as I was seeing them. I was confused.

I said, "Why kill when you can make them suffer in far more ways they can't keep up with?" I added hesitantly.

Edward leaned in and pressed his lips to my cheek, lingering. Red blushed up under his lips there. I bit my lip to keep from saying more. How brute and dated their mindsets were.

I found Uncle Emmett's eyes. His fingers steepling over his mouth. He looked over at his father who they call Major, who I've known is actually named Edmond by birth. The old man in the wheelchair was parked at the corner of the room. His expression blank, but Carlisle's was smoldering. I think he decided he didn't like me at that instant. The other men stood around with furrowed brows.

Jasper was beaming in contrast. He chuckled low. He shook his head and turned his eyes to the rest like they all caught the humor in it, too. No one did, but they had no choice but to accept.

That was a month ago. In a sense, I have a seat at the table now. They all listen.

But you would never know this from looking at us together; Edward and me.

The couple.

He chews on gum watching the clowns tearing away at shots and lines of coke, while his nose is clean and his lips are minty fresh when I kiss them. The gun heavy in my pocket.

It's fascinating witnessing the McCarthys slowly lose money, jobs, and businesses. Their houses are in foreclosure. Their close relatives file for bankruptcy. Their sons and daughters are rejected from Ivy League schools, or taken in for sporadic DUIs and unpaid parking tickets—those are getting the easy way out. Some, who've hung out at bars eyeing Edward, Pete, and the gang—their rivalry—are snitched on and left to rot for life. They're in prison for narcotics or money laundering. All of this done in a span of time, little by little.

The McCarthy family is clearing out. And they're suffering.

I smile to myself. I stare up at my bedroom ceiling alone, at night, and think of all the ways Edward can change his uncle's mindset. Uncle Jasper is key. He listens. He accepts. He watches me even when I'm not speaking. He watches when I'm not the center of attention. He watches and I know he sees my mother.

With Mom's confession at the back of my mind, I can't look at him now. I can't decide if I should climb off Edward's lap, over the desk, and choke him until the life leaves him. But all I do is tremble when he gets close.

I hear my mother's words, and I feel shame.

I have a seat at the table, and I'm still sitting.

The adrenaline is addictive. Edward's look of pride even more so.

He loves on me, and he tells me how much. One sweeping hit with his hips, hands all over my legs, and he tells me I'm his. I'm needed. I'm wanted. I stare at darts in his ceiling, right above him, and I've taken every girl's place in his life. I have a seat here, too; on his lap, as he breathes hard against my neck. I reach back and pull on his hair, and this feels so good.

My world has changed. Maybe it's upside down, but no one told me this upside down is all green grass, fresh air, and butterflies hovering in a constant rhythm. Rose color over a limitless sky. It's a whole new world the moment I accepted Edward's offer to be a part of his life.

….