In which a runaway foster kid with a strange and unimaginable amount of power shows up on a werewolf mothers porch in search of her family, with the magic to help rescue them.
A MIKAELSON DAUGHTER FIC
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THE WALL CLOCK READ 4:26am. The house was practically quiet, up until you passed the foyer where sounds of grunts and whimpers could be heard.
The Johnson house was no stranger to loud violent noises. With the two teenagers minding their business in their rooms with headphones and headsets on, and the wife in her sewing room with her tv loud enough to block out the noise outside the room, everyone was pretty much deaf to what was going on just beneath them in the basement.
Judith Mckenzie stood victim to Carl Johnson's sick version of "discipline" as he took a belt to her backside. Her indiscretion? She dared to speak up about his earlier act of violence towards her when he picked her up by her shirt and screamed in her face about her asking for information about her birth parents. He deemed her ungrateful for not appreciating the less than bare minimum treatment they gave her.
Sure they did give her the occasional meal, and sometimes allowed her to have time outside after a multitude of chores (only if Carl wasn't present), and I mean they did allow the 6'2, 265 pound, man to beat on her whenever he wanted to, but what's not to appreciate about that?
She wasn't your average six-year-old. She spoke and remembered things as if she had been around for longer than those six years, which made her hated by the several foster families she was tossed into. Judith had revelations about herself, and she knew she was different. Things most teenagers still haven't figured out yet, she was on the path to learning at her young age, and that too made her a target.
Sometimes she dreamt of a family that loved her. One that didn't beat her of any minuscule mistake, one that cared for her, and one that wasn't ashamed of her at all. She dreamt of them sitting around a table celebrating, medieval feast style, but most importantly she dreamt of two loving parents and a sibling she adored, and they her.
Judith wanted to fight. She had to.
The leather torcher device that was being wielded by her alcoholic foster father came down a 23rd time, him expecting for it to hit her in the previously abused spot. What he hadn't expected was for her to turn around and catch it, snatching it from his grasp, just as it reached her height.
"STOP IT!" She screamed, throwing the belt as far as she could from them.
"Are you crazy?! Go! Go get it and bring it back, this punishment isn't over until I say it is!" He yelled at her, as he watched her slowly step back.
With tears in her eyes and rolling down her face she shook her head. She wasn't going to be his punching bag anymore, he wasn't going to get to hurt ever again. No one in that house will.
"No." Judith seethed as the two stared each other down, glares on both faces.
"What did you say to me, brat?" His voice was low, and he stalked up to her, grabbing her by her throat and lifting her from the ground. "Maybe I need to reevaluate your living condition."
With what air she could muster she managed to get three words out. "Put. Me. DOWN!" Her usual bright blue eyes turned golden and the next thing she knew an envelope of fire wrapped around them and blew the two apart.
