To Know You

Chapter Thirty-Five

~Chapter Thirty-Five~

"Okay, let me get this straight," I interrupt Carter, holding a hand up while looking at the duvet spread neatly across my bed to try and comprehend what I've just been told. "You're telling me that one of Marco's guys called you to come meet them because they took a guy hostage for not paying them back for the drugs he took?" I ask, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, slightly in shock.

Carter had told me during school that he would tell me what happened to him, and I told him he didn't have to. I was unsure if I even wanted to know at that point, fearing it would be something like this. Something that I could never forget. Up until this point, the only thing I knew about this side of Carter was that he was associated with a gang, Marco being the leader, but I could never have imagined that it was this in depth.

I mean, come on? Who could have expected hostages and drug dealing?

Carter stops pacing around my bedroom, facing me with his whole body and giving me an innocent look, as if he didn't just admit that he is involved in illegal activity. "Yes," he replies with a sure nod of his head.

To look at Carter, you would never have guessed he could be like this--that this would be his life. It's indisputable that the first time we met, he was a total jerk, and that on occasion he can be super cold and distant, but now that I've spent more time with him, he is probably once of the nicest people I've ever met. It's hard to picture him any other way, even when he's telling me it, himself.

I glance up at him through my eyelashes, noticing how he shifts uncomfortably on his feet, probably worried I'm going to hate him after all this.

But how can I?

He's been so good to me, he's helped me through more than my own family and friends have. I trust him, somehow and some way. I can't explain it.

"And because you didn't want to rough up the hostage, you got kicked to a pulp by Marco and a few of his followers?" I clarify, looking up fully now so I can see his response to my questioning.

He cringes a bit at the memory of it, but nods his head again, not saying anything this time.

I'm finding it difficult to wrap my brain around this information. How did he get involved in all of this to begin with? How does one join a gang?

Either I'm way too sheltered from society, or he's got some sort of connection to this gang. Whether it be a friend, family member, or whatever, he must have a connection to it somehow.

After a moment, I scoff and lean back into the pillows, tucking my knees up to my chest. "Carter, why are you even a part of this gang?" I ask, wanting more answers than I've been given. Maybe if I just throw it out there, he'll decide to tell me.

I can't get greedy, though, or else he might close himself off.

But is it wrong of me to think that I deserve some more information, given the fact that Marco and his gang know who I am? I'm kind of a part of this now, too, and that scares me.

He sighs and walks towards me, sitting down on the bed beside my feet. "It's... a long story," he mumbles hesitantly, looking at his knuckles, rubbing the fingers of his other hand over the bruises.

For a moment, I just sit and watch him. His big frame suddenly seeming small and vulnerable as he hunches over; like a little kid. But really, he never got to be a real kid. That much I can guess. He had to grow up at a young age.

And that's probably why he's built up so many walls.

I lean forward so I can get a good look at his profile, scooting towards him until we are almost touching. "You can trust me," I say in just above a whisper.