September Scyther : Creepypasta Backstory (UNDERGOING EDITING)

Chapter 2 (edited)

Her other hand, that he hadn't seen before, loosely held a shotgun that she had been unable to use. 

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The fifteen year old boy fell to his knees, the tears pouring out freely. The only warning he got of an approaching threat was the slight creak of a loose floorboard. He grabbed the shotgun and whipped around, pulling the trigger fast. The shot surprised the murderer, but September's aim was off, taking the last two fingers off the man's right hand. Before he could fire off a second shot, the killer slammed him into a wall, wrapping strong hands around his throat. While he struggled, the killer whispered in his ear, "I won't kill you. Instead, I'll let you sink deeper into your grief. I'll let you get swallowed by the desire for revenge."

September glared daggers at the man before him, now his rival, until the lack of air caused him to pass out. When he finally woke, the first thing he did was roll onto his side and start coughing up mouthfuls of water, the force of the coughing causing spots to dance in his vision. Next, he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard a woman's gentle voice, '"Hey kid, take it easy, we just pulled you out of the river."

The young boy slowly sat up and looked around, sterile white walls, the woman in a blue overcoat, plastic over the pillow. He was in a hospital. Then he realized the nurse had started talking again, "-thrown in, you were passed out so we had to pump the water out of your lungs. You'll be sore for about a week-" He tuned out again, now focusing on his many aches, his throat most of all. His hand moved up to touch and the nurse noticed the slight movement.

Her smile grew sad, "It was apparent you were strangled, did you happen to see who it was? It might lead the police to the culprit." The culprit? His parents' killer? They must not know about that though.
September shook his head, "No, I was blindfolded. I never had a chance to see who it was." Revenge would be his and his alone. The nurse nods her head and leaves. Some time during the day he is let out, a police officer driving him to a children's home.

"You will stay here until a suitable home is found for you." Somehow, he was allowed to keep his scythe, but it was locked away in a closet. Once again, September stayed solitary, locking himself in his room for the bulk of the four months that he was in that hell house, avoiding the other kids. Today, he was sitting on his bed, facing the wall and lost in his thoughts of escape, when the owner of the home and a couple walked into the room.
The owner was speaking as they walked in, "This is September, our oldest here. He went through some trauma recently and the police case is still open." They start to discuss the policy of adoption and what it would take to adopt him; September continued to sit silently during this conversation, hoping they would rethink their decision. It was obvious the decision was already made though as they left to fill out the papers. He crawls under the covers and stays there with them over his head until they come back, and the owner speaks directly to him, "September, it's time to go."
He climbs out from under the covers and gathers his meager belongings, his leaf green eyes flashing with barely controlled anger. The couple take him out to their car and drive them back to their house, where he meets his two new 'sisters'. The first few days at the new home go smoothly, and September starts to think that it will go well, but then the kindness that he first saw dissipates completely. After one week he is already being yelled at and locked in his room. The abuse doesn't start until after two months.
"Oh, September~" Called one of his 'sisters'. He ignored her, wanting to stay in his room. "September!" He still didn't answer. He then heard her complain to his fake father that he wasn't listening; moments later he heard the heavy footsteps ascend the stairs. September was already scared of the man, so he was shaking the second he started to come up. The man walked through the door with a belt in hand.

"Next time, come when you're called." The man then swung the belt, the buckle smacking against September's shoulder and causing him to cry aloud in reflex. He hit him many more times with the belt, opening up many wounds, before shoving the boy to the ground and walking out. September stayed on the ground, forcing back tears and ignoring the stinging sensation from his open wounds.