Title: When Tears Are Red
Author: AnonymousSe7en
Fandom: Wrestling
Rating: T for right now, may change in the future.
Pairing: Later on a WWE Diva (to be determined) and OC
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I do not own it.

Author's Note: This is just a brief preview of what is to come. I want to see if people enjoy what they read and I want to know if I should continue it. The boy in this fanfiction is my OC Jackson MacCallaster who at the time of this flashback is seven-years-old. I will upload a profile for him on my profile when I get a chance, so that everyone can know about him.

Introduction

Flashback

"You shut that mouth of yours right this second!" His step-father demanded as he stepped towards him and came nose to nose with the younger child. "Don't you dare think you can stand there and talk to me like the because I will beat the shit out of you. Your mother might have brought you into this world, but I will have no problem taking you out in a split second!"

His mama looked on from the couch in the living-room with a glass of wine balanced in one hand and a cigarette secured between her index finger and middle finger in the other hand, her favorite soap opera flashing across the old television screen. She had no intentions of getting involved in his step-father's punishment of him and it wasn't too much of a shock since she never seemed to decide to get involved when he had been at the bar for a long time and stumbled home intoxicated and belligerent. He did this quite often and Jacqueline had managed to develop an immunity and would successfully ignore him and his sexual advances when he would come home inebriated. She would greet him quickly at the door and then sit on the couch and allow him to do as he pleased, so long as he didn't interrupt her soap opera and eventually, she would leave to work the night shift and wouldn't return until the early morning when he would be unconscious somewhere in the apartment; leaving him alone in the apartment with his step-father while he experienced what his grandmother had once referred to as "alcoholic withdrawal".

He never quite understood how come his mother didn't give him up for adoption, sure she receive monthly child support checks in the mail from his father Christopher who lived somewhere in California, but she often reminded him that he was the reason for the way her life was - the reason she had no money, the reason she didn't have nice things, the reason that her life was ruined, and then some. Their relationship was strained at best, although that was somewhat an understatement, and she made no attempts to have a closer, more affectionate relationship with him and he, well, he tried not to concentrate on it too much.

But as his step-father came even closer to his face, he wondered if perhaps his life would improve if he simply ran away from this apartment and disappeared forever.

"Do you understand me?!" His step-father shouted. "Answer me when I'm talkin' to you boy!"

"Yes, Dad," he responded quickly, his voice trembling and cracking.

"Dad? I'm not "Dad" to you nor am I to be called by any other name other than "Sir" because your little disrespectful ass needs to leave some kind of manners," he instructed. He moved across the kitchen and snagged bottle of beer from the refrigerator. He then stomped back over towards the dinning area and sat at the table, Jackson remained standing with his back to his mother's husband with tears running freely down his face, afraid to move, or talk, or even breath too loud. So he just stood there, with his arms pinned flat against his sides and his body convulsing slightly from the crying he was trying so hard to hold in his chest. He wasn't allowed to move, his step-father had ordered.

"Havin' fun standing there? Them feet startin' to ache just yet?" His step-father snarled from his place at the kitchen table.

Jackson quickly responded, "Yes, sir."

"Good!" His step-father shouted. "That's a damn good thing since you don't know how to respect your superiors. You think your the boss, huh? Well you better get over yourself because I will put you in your place, whether it be with this fist or with a belt...or maybe somethin' worse than that. Ya hear me, boy?"

He nodded as a reaction and sniffed. "Yes sir, I understand. I promise I won't never be disrespectful to you again. I promise, I really do."

"Mhm," his step-father murmured as he took a sip of his beer, standing up and coming to stand behind him. "You promise, aye? You think I give to shits whether you promise or not? Shut that fuck up with that shit." He slapped him hard in the back of his head and nearly threw him off his feet.

"I'm sorry, sir," Jackson whispered.

His younger sister Isabella peeked her head out from their bedroom door, pushing her blonde curls from her face and fingering the hem of her princess Cinderella nightgown, and stared at him sympathetically - her blue eyes sad and solemn, her little mouth that usually displayed a beautiful smile was sagged at the corners and she looked frightened like her father's screaming had woken her from her sleep. Jackson offered her a confident look, however, it had been years since he had been capable of mustering up a convincing look of confidence considering he no longer had any confidence or sense of self-worth left in him, his step-father had done a good job of ridding him of any self-confidence or feeling of self-importance over the years he had been with his mother, a damn good job.

His step-father walked back into the kitchen and shoved him with one hand to the ground, Jackson lost his balance and fell into the wall. His step-father instructed him to go to bed now because he could not bear to look at his disgusting face any longer, he also warned him that if he heard any sounds coming from the kids' bedroom he would come in their with a belt and whoop both their butts real good with his leather belt. Jackson nodded in understanding and rushed towards his bedroom to change out of his school clothes and into some sleep-appropriate clothing, giving his mother who was asleep on the couch a look of resentment as he past the living room.

Jackson yanked the drawer from the chest of drawers and removed a pair of boxers and some old knee-length sports shorts. He slipped his shirt over his head and tossed it into the hamper along with his shorts and socks before he pulled the boxers and shorts on and climbed into the bed he shared with Isabella. Isabella was cuddled close to the wall with her favorite Minnie Mouse stuffed animal snuggled next to her face, and so he crawled in next to her and pulled the comforter up to his chin, wincing at the pain from his right shoulder which he believed to be dislocated or perhaps even fractured by his step-father. He moved closer to Isabella and exhaled, he loved her so much, perhaps the only person in the world that he cared for in anyway anymore, he loved her more than he loved himself.

"Goodnight, Isabella," he whispered and leaned over to place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

End Flashback