Author's Note: Once again, I will be typing a flashback. This will give insight on Jon's life before he met Adriana and a little bit after.

Cincinnati, 1990:

Jonathan was laying in his bed. His room was freezing like Antarctica. It was in the middle of December.

His mother was late on paying the electric bill. But it was all her fault. She splurged and wasted the money on buying stupid and ugly expensive shoes that she didn't need. But she "had" to buy them. She had to sell her body to make ends meet so she had to look "presentable".

The apartment was so quiet Jon could've heard a pen drop.

He was drifting off to sleep until he heard the door open.

The once quiet apartment was then filled with roars of laughter.

His mother had returned but she had companions with her. Probably her men.

It sounded like two or three of them with her.

"How about we go to your room?" one of the men said.

Jon heard them as they passed his room and went to his mom's room.

Jon usually covered his ears so that he couldn't hear what was going on in his mother's room. But tonight, he couldn't block out the commotion happening in the room next to him.

"Bitch! Where's my money?" one of the men said.

"I don't have it!"

"The fuck you mean you don't have it! Oh, you have it somewhere around here!"

Jon heard the men leaving the room.

"Come back!"

Jon heard dishes breaking soon after. His mother's men were tearing up the apartment, searching for money that obviously wasn't there.

"I told you I don't have it! I'll have it...soon."

"Move out of my way, you slut. I know you're hiding it!" the other man said.

Jon saw his door open. Jon shot straight up in bed and saw two men standing in his doorway.

One of the men flicked the lightswitch up.

"Oh...you have a kid," the first guy said.

"Frank, Harold. Leave him alone," his mother pleaded with him.

"Where's your father?" Harold asked Jon.

Jon simply just shook his head. He wished the men would leave his room.

"Oh, so you're a bastard child huh?" Frank said. "Typical."

"Don't call me that word," Jon said.

"What did you say?" Frank said.

"I said don't call me that word. And don't call my mommy names either," Jon said.

Frank and Harold approached Jon.

"I'll call you and your mother any fucking thing I choose to. And there ain't shit you can do about it," Frank said.

"Come on, Frank. Let's teach this little boy some manners," Harold said.

"Leave my child alone!" Jon's mother said.

Frank and Harold ignored Jon's mom and reached for him.

Jon thought quickly and reached for his scissors he had brought from school that was on his nightstand. He stabbed Frank's hand then stabbed Harold's.

"FUCK!" the both of them screamed.

"I outta fucking kill you you little shit!" Frank said, irate.

Jon stabbed him again with the scissors in the arm.

"ARGH!"

"FRANK, WE NEED TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! THIS BITCH AND HER BASTARD SON ARE BOTH CRAZY!" Harold shouted to Frank.

The two of them quickly left Jon's room and the apartment all together.

Jon looked at the scissors in his hands that were now stained with blood.

His mother was standing in the corner when everything was happening. She slowly approached Jon.

"Give me the scissors. I'll get you some more," she said quietly.

"You weren't gonna do anything, mama," Jon said. "You were going to let those bad men hurt me."

"You had the scissors next to you, Jonathan. You fought them off yourself. Please, just give me the scissors."

Jon placed the scissors in his mother's hands.

His mother bent down and kissed him on the forehead.

"I'm sorry," she said.

With that, she left the room, turning the light off on her way out.

Jon once again was in complete darkness.

He fell asleep shivering his little tiny heart out.

Saturday morning cartoons were reassuring to Jon. He had a bowl of Apple Jacks in front of him. He didn't eat much the previous day so a bowl of cereal was the best thing to ever happen to him. His mom was getting ready in the bathroom. She finished up and saw Jon watching television.

"Jonathan, put your shoes on," his mom said.

Jon did what was told of him but went right back to watching cartoons. He gulped down the milk in the bowl and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Turn the cartoons off, Jonathan. You're coming with me today," his mother said.

Jon reluctantly got up and grabbed his coat from the closet. He put it on and zipped it up. He saw his Bret Hart figure on the couch and quickly grabbed it. Tonight was also Main Event. He would be able to see all of his wrestling favorites in action. From Hulk Hogan to Macho Man, Jon was not going to miss it for the world.

Jon held his mom's hand as they went to the bus stop. They sat for twenty minutes before the bus finally came. They boarded the bus and off they went. Jon was too busy playing with his Bret Hart figure that he didn't notice that the bus had stopped. The trip was only fifteen minutes but it felt like two.

Jon's mother took his hand and led him off the bus.

Jon then saw that they weren't too far from the prison that his father was in.

"Mama, why are we here?" Jon asked.

"To simply visit your father," his mother said.

Jon's father was in and out of prison ever since Jon was born. Jon barely remembered seeing his face. He barely even remembered what his voice sounded like.

Jon waited with his mother in the visitor's room. It was warm in here. Jon wished it was warm in the apartment as well.

Police escorted someone through the door. It was Jon's father.

He looked extremely gruff and grave. He sat down in front of Jon and his mother.

"What do you want, Linda?" he said.

"I brought Jonathan here to see you," she said.

Jon looked at his father.

His father looked at him as if he was some type of rare disease.

"Hi Jonathan," his father said. He sounded as if he was annoyed he had sired a son.

"Hey, Daddy. Why are you here?"

"I did some things. Bad things. That's all you need to know."

"Greg, don't talk to him like that," Linda said.

"I can talk anyway I want to to him," Greg said.

"The boy hasn't done anything to you," Linda said.

"Like hell he did! You should've aborted him when I gave you the money. But you were too damn stupid to go through with it," Greg said.

"Greg, stop," Linda said.

Greg gave Linda a cold, hard look.

"We were doing just fine until Jonathan came along. If he wasn't born, I wouldn't have had to sell drugs to make ends meet. That's why I told you to get an abortion so that we wouldn't struggle. But look where we are now: five years later and you're stuck with this waste of space. You're on your own, Linda," Greg said.

"You bastard," Linda said. "I hope you rot in hell in here. Come on, Jonathan. We're done here."

"Jonathan, eat your food," his mother said. "I know grilled ham and cheese sandwiches are your favorite."

Jon sat at the table, staring at his food.

"Jonathan, did you hear what I said? You're not wasting food. Eat your sandwich," his mom said.

Jon looked at her and shook his head. He grabbed his Bret Hart figure from the table and slid out of his chair. Jon went back to his room and laid down. His mother followed him soon after.

"Jonathan?"

His mother sat beside him. Jon was laying face down on his bed.

"Jonathan, talk to me," his mom said.

Jon looked up at his mother.

"Did Daddy mean all of those nasty things he said? Why did he wish I was dead?"

"Wish you were dead?"

"I read that word before...it's to end someone right? To kill?"

"Sit up," Linda said.

Jon sat up and sat next to his mother.

"Don't let what your father said get to you. I honestly don't know what I saw in him."

"You didn't love him?"

"Yeah, I did. I don't know why I took you to see him. I wish I didn't. He hurt your feelings. I'm sorry, Jonathan."

"No need to say sorry, baby. Everything will be alright."

Only for a little while were things alright.

But then Jon's dad returned.

And the next two years were ultimate hell.

Cincinnati, 1992:

"Stop burning me!" Jon screamed at his father.

"Make me, you piece of shit!"

Jon's father pecked him with his cigarette again and again.

"Greg, stop it!" Linda said.

She saw what was going on and took Greg's cigarette away. She put it out in the ashtray.

"You bitch!"

Greg got up and slapped Linda across the face.

"Stop it!" Jon screamed at his father.

Greg looked at his child.

"I should kill you right where you stand. I'm going to lay down. Make me something to eat you whore," Greg spat at Linda.

Linda got herself up and made Greg some food. She felt like a fool for doing so but if she didn't, she knew good and well that Greg would get pissed and lash out at Jon.

Jon hated his father with all of his heart.

"Why are you making food for him, Mama?" Jon asked his mother.

"So that Greg would shut up."

Linda finished making Greg's food and brought it to him.

"Bitch, I don't like green beans!"

"You are not going to waste my damn food! You're going to eat it!"

"I'm not going to eat any damn thing!"

Jon ran into his mom's room.

"Get the fuck out!" Greg yelled at Jon.

Greg got up off of the bed and grabbed Jon by his shirt.

"GET OUT OF HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

"STOP IT!" Linda yelled at Greg.

"I HATE YOU!" Jon yelled at his father.

Jon kicked his father in his shin. Greg punched Jon in the face.

Jon became irate and bit his father's hand.

"ARGH!"

Linda grabbed Jon and managed to pry him away from Greg.

Linda put her hand over Jon's mouth to prevent the neighbors from hearing anymore commotion.

"Get that bastard out of here," Greg said. "You know what nevermind, I'm leaving for the night."

The rent was due by midnight. The cranky landlord wanted everything by midnight and not a minute later.

Linda had to do what she knew best: prostitute.

Jon sat in his room and cried and cried and cried.

He remembered he had some books in his bookbag and decided to whip them out and read to keep his mind occupied. He reached into his backpack that was open on the floor. Instead of a book, his hand brushed against a piece of paper folded up. Jon took it out and saw that it was for him. From Adriana. He opened it and read it.

"Dear Jon,

This letter is for you. I have a really big crush on you. Ugh...I hope I am not sounding weird right now. Which I probably am. I hope we can be friends soon. See ya.

Love, Adriana"

Jon folded the piece of paper back up, gave it a kiss, and placed it under his pillow. It was extremely late and he was super tired.

Of course he didn't eat anything once again.

He was beginning to resent his mother for allowing his so called "father" to return. Linda was extremely submissive and still sold her body on the streets to pay the bills. His blood was boiling on the inside of him.

He laid down and went to sleep angry.

The next evening was the final straw.

His father had taken the food Adriana gave him and partially ate it and partially wasted it. He hurt Jon again but this time Jon fought back and kicked his father right in the temple and stunned him.

"I'm leaving!"

"Where do you think you're going!?" Linda said.

"AWAY FROM YOU AND THAT BASTARD! I HATE THE BOTH OF YOU!"

Jon left the apartment and never returned.

Author's Note: Eeesh.