This is like an alternate universe of Greatness Comes from Small Beginnings. This is what happens if Red stays with his father instead of moving out with his mother. Think of it as a combination of Broken and Greatness Comes from Small Beginnings.

Just another day...

He was always use to this kind of atmosphere, silent and somewhat eerie as his eyes gaze through his bedroom window to look at the outside world. It was raining, and quite cold to the point where his breath became visible with every breathing. With each passing breath he kept staring at the foggy mist blowing out from his mouth which cause him to grunt in discomfort. He ruffles through his black hair and with his left hand, needed to remind himself that his hair a bit longer than usual. His gaze turn back to the outside world as he stares at the people walking pass his house with their umbrellas wide open to cover themselves from the incoming rain that seems to be getting a bit more heavier. The teen raises his right hand and with his index he firmly place it against the foggy window. He begins to draw stick figures in a group, but a single lone stick figure stood away from the group with its back turn away from them. Then he starts drawing a large text bubble coming out from the group with a tail coming from their mouths. He then starts squiggling into the text bubble, then finally he turns his attention to the lone stick figure and poke three dots above its head. A frown appears on his face as he eyes at his drawings in silence.

"Red! Can you come downstairs and help me with the groceries!?" A woman's voice calls from the other side of the door. Red blinks several times and gave a light soft sigh and proceeds to respond to the call by leaving his room and went downstairs to see his mother in her brown fur coat carrying grocery bags in each hands. She removes her hood to reveal long black hair as it flows behind her back. She turns to him and smile which he returns back with an affectionate grin.

"Hey sweetie, can you help your mother get these bags into the kitchen? I need a big strong man to help me with all the heavy work." His mother responded. Red gave a quiet chuckle as he nods his head in agreement. He approaches her, filled with enthusiasm, but as soon as he grabs the bag he clumsily drops it on the floor, spilling all of the groceries on the ground. Red wince in pain as he looks at his arms and his eyes widen in horror as trails of blood seeping through out of the wounded holes. He tries to yell, but it was no use. He looks back at his mother, however, instead of his mother it was a tall large man holding some sort of club on his right hand with a devious grin on his bearded face. He wore a dark blue uniform with a golden badge on his right chest, and a gun, holstered on the side of his belt. Red's legs collapse out of fear as he scurries to try to escape from him.

"Don't you run away from me boy." The man bellows as he took a step forward. The moment he took a step; Red tries to yell again, but nothing came out. The man caught up to him as he raises his baton high in the air. Red's eyes look directly up at the weapon and it struck down on his head.

Red woke up in his dirty bed filled with bedbugs and dirt all over the mattress, a spring had been sprung out on the side. He noticed that his mouth was open as he looks down, dried blood stain had trailed from his lips. Aching and tired he tries to get up from the bed without breaking any sort of bone in his body. He manages to do so as he sat on the edge, rubbing his recent wounds on his arms, holes and scabs were marked on both arms. He didn't try to bandage it up because he knows if he did, "he" will make him take them off. He looks up at the window, it was still dark, only twelve o' clock at midnight. Red places a hand on his cheek, rubbing and doing his best to soothe the now blackened part of his face. He spat on the floor, only to feel thick liquid to escape from his mouth. He slowly got up from his aching feet and put an ear to the door, listening. After a few more seconds later, he gave a silent sigh of relief. He opens the door and left his room.

The next room is dark, his eyes doing their best to adjust. It was a small living room with just a standard box T.V and a small kitchen in the same area. He turns his head left and right, to make sure the coast was clear. Red took one step, only for it to creak under his foot as he squints his eyes. He made another step, then another towards the front door.

"Where do you think you're going?" A man's voice came from behind him. Red tenses his body as he slowly turns his head back at him. The man from his dream had become his reality, only this time he wasn't wearing his uniform or carrying any sort of baton. Instead he had a smell of alcohol around him which makes Red a bit nauseating.

"Oh right, I keep forgetting. My good for nothing son is a fucking mute, what a lousy mistake that was." The man said as he made a small hiccup. The smell of alcohol had become stronger as he approaches the silent teen.

"Fuck it. Listen here, we're out of booze, why don't you go to Gerald's bar and get me a pack? Don't worry about the money, I'll give it to him when I'm on duty." The man said. Red knew the routine, one of his best friend owns a bar about a few blocks away from his house that crosses from the main road. Red gave a sigh, but his father took that response in a negative way.

"What!? You're bad mouthing me!?" The man shouted as he reach his arm towards his neck and grapples it. He suddenly pins Red against the wall as he tries to pull his father's arm away from him, gasping for breath and struggling against his might.

"Don't you dare disrespect your old man. You got that you little shit!?" The man shouted. Red responded with several quick nods before he was released from his grip. The teen coughs and hacks while having his hand on his throat. He got back on his feet and reaches for the handle of the door.

"Hurry the fuck up! Don't come back until you get them booze!" His father shouted in frustration as he kicks his son from behind as he wince in pain. Red hastily opens the door and left the house and ran a few feet away.

Red walks away in silence with his hands in his dirty jean pockets, eyes looking down on the ground. He walks by several other people, each giving him an odd look of disgust or having a strange reaction. He knew why, and he hated it, he hadn't taken a shower in so long, and his clothes were the same for months now. He can hear them whisper to their partners and they all have a negative point of view.

"Why's he like that?"

"Damn dude take a shower."

"That kid got fucked up."

And so on...and so on...

Red finally reaches the bar as he opens the door. There were several neon lights scatter around the place, tall stools place besides the bar table, people chatting to each other as they smoke and drink to their hearts content as they cackle and laugh about some stupid bullshit that Red could care less. He approaches the counter and a man with a slender figure and a mustache cleaning a mug in hand came up to him.

"Oh, hello there Red, I see you have a habit of beating yourself up again. Your father must be worried about that. When will you ever learn?" The man said as he looks at the scars on Red's arms. Red just stares back with a blank stare in his eyes, not even caring about starting a conversation, not that he even has the ability to.

"I see that Brad came for his usual." The man said as he went under his counter to take out a twelve pack of beers in a box and he handed it to Red. He took it without acknowledging it, leaving the bar in silence.

"Here ya go, this is the last one for the week. Tell your father that I'm very grateful for his services here!" The man said as Red just slams the door behind him. Red grips the box in frustration as his teeth grits together in annoyance. He stomach starts rumbling, as he had to stop for a bit to try to sink it all in. He suddenly remembers that he didn't have anything to eat in over a week. He puts the box down on the ground for a moment to reach into his pocket for any scraps of income. Eureka! He had found two dollars in his pocket as he heads to the different direction. He made his way to a nearby fast food joint in great haste. Good thing it was open late at night as he immediately shove the two bills onto the counter and point it at a hash brown that's just enough. In a few minutes he was scarfing down his food like there's no tomorrow. He gave a sigh of content as he hasn't tasted hot food in a long time, usually it's left over scraps given by his father or cereal, but only if he felt like it. The teen ate in silence as he took the last bite out of the hash brown, savoring the taste as he feels it descend down into his stomach. Then suddenly he had a realization as his eyes widen in horror and fear; Red made a made dash back to his location. His eyes scan at every location along the sidewalk and the sides. The box of beer was nowhere to be seen.

Red had felt chills down in his spine, a feeling of hopelessness had surface up. He wanted to yell and scream, anything really as long as he can be heard. He fell onto his knees and down on the pavement as he hammers the ground with his fist in frustration. Red knew what's coming for him when he gets back, and he knows that there's no point in hiding or running. He'll find him, he always finds him, and if he can't, he can make the whole region look for him. Even if he could run, there's nowhere to go, and he's a mute. Mustering up all the courage he has left in him he got up from the ground and looks towards the direction of his house. It was now or never, either way, he's as good as dead. Red opens his front door and closes it shut, he could see his father sitting on the couch with a small lamp on the table besides him watching some kind of game show, his eyes fixated on the screen. Red decided to sneak behind his father and get into his room as fast as he could. Before he could take a step forward, the television was turned off, the lamp is still lit as he slowly turns his head to Red, a scowl face had been place on his face when he sees that Red came home empty handed. Red looks down the ground, ashamed and disappointed in himself, hunger at gotten the best of him.

"So, the little shit came home empty handed when I specifically told him to get me some beer that's not too far away..." His father said as he turns back towards the blank screen of the T.V. There was a long pause between the two as neither made a single move. Suddenly his father reach a nearby empty bottle and thew it straight at Red's face, knocking him onto the ground. Red was in pain as he covers the right part of his face with his hand as he rolls on the ground. Blood starts seeping through the wound and a large gash had appear on his face.

"Get the fuck out of my sight! In the morning I'll make sure you get your proper punishment you little fuck!" His father roars at him as he turns his attention back at the T.V. as it pops back on. Red struggles to get back up and ran straight to his room, shutting the door in the process. He took several steps towards his broken down bed as he fell onto his knees. Red starts bursting into tears as he covers his eyes with both of his hands in silence. He misses his mother...he misses home...and...he regrets listening to his father that day, and no one will be able to hear him cry for help.

Just another NORMAL day...