My Personal Hell

The blaring sounds of yelling ripped through the grand, overly quiet halls of the Suzuki mansion, yanking Aurora from the depths of sleep. She groaned, pulling a pillow over her head, but the noise persisted, a cacophony of rough male voices. Grumpily, she pushed herself up from the silk sheets, her curly hair a wild mess around her face, and stormed out of her lavish room. The yelling led her to the expansive living area, where a group of her father's friends—she knew them as his 'gang members'—were engaged in what looked like a childish, play-fighting brawl, scattering expensive furniture. Aurora rolled her eyes, a familiar wave of annoyance washing over her. This was her life. With a sigh, she turned on her heel, retreating to the relative sanctuary of her room to prepare for another day of gilded imprisonment.