Warning* could be trigging/contains self harm, suicide, abuse and swearing

I never planned for the prologue to be as long as it is but I didn't want to have to repeat myself. You don't have to read it but I suggest that you do as it'll help you understand the Fanfiction more.

Hi my name is Magnus Bane and I'm a seventeen years old. I've been in foster care since I was five years but I've never stayed anywhere for long. All I remember of my birth parents is how beautiful my mum was and how caring she was. She was an amazing artist and singer who liked to sing for anyone who asked, she even converted the old barn into her art studio so that she could do her arts and crafts that she sold. I never actually knew my birth father however I had a step-father that hated me for the pure reason that I wasn't his blood son. He'd hit me when my mum wasn't looking and call me things like devil spawn and Satan but I was too afraid of him to fight back and defend myself. Everything was going great (excluding the abuse from my step-father) until my mum's depression started getting uncontrollable, don't get me wrong; I always knew she had it but it had never really affected her that bad. Soon her beautiful arms were littered with jagged cuts and she wouldn't even leave her room. On my fifth birthday she left her room for the first time in what seemed forever and I was so happy I didn't notice her tired eyes or the blood stain on her top. She gave me a hug, said happy birthday to me and told me that she was going into the art studio for a little while; she also said not to disturb her. When she hadn't returned hours later I knocked on the door, no answer. So I went to check on her, however I wasn't expecting what I walked in on. There in the middle of the room was my mum, hanging from the ceiling with a blood running down her neck; there was no light in her once warm eyes. I tried waking her but it was no use, she was dead. I must have blacked out because next thing I know I was jerked awake and I felt a blinding pain at the back of my head. My step-father dragged me up by the scruff of my neck and took me to the river down the hill from our house. He pushed my head under the water and no matter how much I tried to get out of his grip; my head stayed under water. I was just about to black out when I heard a voice shouting for him to let me go. I felt the force holding my head down disappear and someone lifted my head up, I looked right into the bright grey eyes of my rescuer. That very day I was put into social services and my step-father was sent to jail, since then my life has been hell.