As parents, the Witts would have chosen the best school for their adopted daughter Danniella. They enrolled her in an elite school filled with the children of the wealthy and privileged. But fitting in was another story. Danny quickly became the outcast, the "barbarian girl" who didn't belong in their polished world. She had no patience for the "princesses" who flaunted their designer clothes and looked down on her. To Danny, they were just spoiled brats hiding behind their parents' money.
It didn't take long for her fists to do the talking. She didn't pick fights without reason—she only targeted those who insulted her first. Whether it was a snide remark about her background or a condescending smirk, Danny made sure they regretted it. She wasn't violent for the sake of it; she had her reasons. And if that meant earning a reputation as the school's troublemaker, so be it. At least she could hold her head high, knowing she wasn't some entitled brat who relied on daddy's credit card to feel important.
It seemed like almost every day, Mrs. Witt had to face complaints from other parents about Danny's behavior. Whether it was a scuffle on the playground or a heated exchange in the hallway, Danny's name was always at the center of some drama. Yet, no matter how many times she was called to the school, Mrs. Witt never lashed out at Danny. Instead, she always approached her with patience and understanding.
One afternoon, after yet another meeting with Danny's homeroom teacher, Mrs. Witt sat down with her. Her voice was soft, her eyes filled with concern. "Danny… did they treat you badly?" she asked gently.
Danny hesitated, her guilt bubbling to the surface. Mrs. Witt's kindness always made it harder to justify her actions. "I'm sorry, Madam," she muttered, staring at the floor. "They said bad things about you. I couldn't just let it slide."
Mrs. Witt sighed, but there was no anger in her expression—only warmth. "It's alright, Danny. We can't expect everyone to be kind to us. But we can always choose to be kind in return," she said, placing a comforting hand on Danny's shoulder.
Her touch was so gentle, so reassuring. For a moment, Danny felt a strange warmth spread through her chest. Maybe this is what a mother's touch feels like, she thought, her heart aching with a mix of gratitude and longing. Mrs. Witt's unwavering love was slowly chipping away at the walls Danny had built around herself, softening her rough edges.
But not everything in the Witt household was peaceful. One night, Danny overheard a heated argument between Mr. and Mrs. Witt. Their voices were sharp, their words cutting through the silence of the house. Though she couldn't make out every detail, it was clear that Mr. Witt had been unfaithful. He tried to justify his actions, blaming Mrs. Witt for their inability to have children. The fight ended with him storming out of the house, leaving Mrs. Witt behind.
In the aftermath, Mrs. Witt was granted the house as part of the divorce settlement. Though she tried to put on a brave face, Danny could see the pain in her eyes. Yet, despite everything, Mrs. Witt's kindness never wavered. If anything, it only deepened Danny's admiration and love for the woman who had become her anchor in a world that often felt unkind.
After the divorce, Mrs. Witt became a shadow of her former self. The vibrant, kind woman Danny had come to love seemed to fade away, replaced by someone fragile and broken. Danny often heard her crying late at night, the sound muffled through the walls but unmistakable. Each sob felt like a knife twisting in Danny's chest. She wanted to comfort her, to say something—anything—that might ease the pain. But she didn't know how. Words had never been her strength. So, she stood silently outside Mrs. Witt's door, her heart aching, her fists clenched in helpless frustration.
Things took a turn for the worse when Mrs. Witt was diagnosed with late-stage cancer. The news hit Danny like a punch to the gut. She had only just begun to feel like she had a family, a place where she belonged. But now, it felt like the world was ripping it all away from her. Mrs. Witt's health deteriorated rapidly, and Danny's time with her new mother was cut tragically short. At the age of twelve, Danny found herself standing at Mrs. Witt's grave, her heart hollow and her world shattered. It felt like fate was playing a cruel joke on her. She had allowed herself to love, to hope, and now she was left with nothing but emptiness.
After Mrs. Witt's death, Danny was placed in the care of a relative, a woman named Anne. At first, Anne seemed kind and welcoming. She smiled often, spoke softly, and made promises about taking care of Danny. But it didn't take long for her true colors to show. Anne wasn't interested in Danny—she was interested in the house and the financial allowances Mrs. Witt had left behind. Soon, Anne began cutting corners, slashing Danny's expenses under the guise of "saving for college." Danny didn't protest. She had never been one to care much about money. Growing up in the orphanage, she had learned to live without luxuries, without even the simplest comforts. Pocket money? That was a foreign concept to her.
But as the years passed, Danny began to see Anne for who she really was: a selfish, manipulative woman who saw Danny as nothing more than a burden. There were moments when Danny thought about running away, about returning to the orphanage. But Anne always found a way to stop her. Threats, locked doors, even physical violence—Anne didn't hesitate to use any means necessary to keep Danny under control. At first, the beatings hurt. They left bruises, both on her skin and on her spirit. But Danny was resilient. She had always been a fighter. Over time, the blows became just another part of her life, something to endure and ignore.
Now, at sixteen, Danny had grown into a fiercely independent and rebellious teenager. Anne's attempts to control her only fueled her defiance. The slaps, the yelling, the threats—they no longer fazed her. Danny had learned to harden herself, to build walls so high that nothing could break through. She didn't care about Anne, the house, or the money. All she cared about was surviving.
The school was another battlefield. Danny had just started high school, but within three months, she had already been expelled from two different schools. Her temper, her refusal to back down, and her tendency to solve problems with her fists had made her a magnet for trouble. Parents complained, teachers sighed, and principals shook their heads. Anne was furious, but Danny didn't care. She was used to being the outcast, the troublemaker, the one nobody wanted around.
In the end, Anne had no choice but to move Danny to yet another school. It was a cycle Danny knew all too well: new school, new enemies, new fights. But she didn't mind. She had learned long ago that the world wasn't kind to girls like her. And if she had to fight her way through it, so be it. Danny wasn't afraid of a little chaos. After all, chaos was the only thing that had ever made her feel alive.
Her new school had a reputation for being rough around the edges, but Anne thought it would be a perfect fit for someone like Danny. "Let her cause trouble there," Anne had muttered under her breath. "No one will care." But even Anne couldn't have predicted how quickly Danny would make her mark.
Within just two weeks, Danny was already at the center of another fight. This time, it was in the school cafeteria. A popular boy named Mike had been harassing a girl, his hands wandering where they didn't belong. Danny didn't think twice. She stepped in, her fists flying before anyone could blink. Mike ended up on the floor, clutching his nose, while the cafeteria erupted into chaos.
But instead of gratitude, Danny was met with venom. The girl she had "saved" turned on her, her face twisted in anger. "You!" she shouted, her voice sharp and dripping with disdain. "I didn't ask for your help! Who do you think you are, some kind of hero? It's disgusting!"
Danny froze, her fists still clenched, her chest heaving. The girl's words stung more than any punch ever could. She stared at her, bewildered, as the girl continued to rant. "Do you even know who Mike is? He's, like, the most popular guy in this school! So what if he touched me? I was just surprised, that's all! Now you've made everything worse. Thanks to you, Mike and his friends are probably going to hate me. You're such a barbarian!"
The girl stormed off, leaving Danny standing there, surrounded by whispers and judgmental stares. Her classmates began to distance themselves, as if her act of defiance had marked her with some kind of invisible stain. Danny felt a familiar ache in her chest, a mix of anger and hurt. She had only been trying to do the right thing, but once again, it had backfired.
As she walked away, her mind raced. Why does it always end up like this? she thought bitterly. No matter what I do, I'm always the villain. She clenched her jaw, forcing down the lump in her throat. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
But deep down, a small part of her wondered if she'd ever find a place where she belonged—a place where her fire wasn't seen as a threat, but as a strength.