Why is it always that parents have a say on how their kids spend their time? Shouldn't their responsibility be merely confined to giving their kids advice and not dragging them by force to places they don't want to go and do the things they are most reluctant to do?

Hello. My name is Bunny and I'm 17 years old this year. As a highschool student, I am currently preparing to venture into the world of adulthood, into a world of endless and unknown possibilities. If you ask me, that includes sticking my nose into books for hours on end and learning as much as possible, as knowledge is power, and without knowledge, your life is going to be quite limited.

Hence, this is why nearly everyone who knows me finds me synonymous to a bookworm.

Although, I am quite certain that my way of preparing for the future is a great way to do so, my parents and I just don't see eye to eye.

You see, after my pretend-to-be-compassionate foster father, whom I called uncle (because he didn't want me to call him dad) kicked me out for not being like other girls, or other children in general, I was adopted by an ultra-rich couple, Mr. Black and Mrs. Black who are world renowned actors. And if this isn't glamourous enough, Mr. Black is distantly related to the royal family. Well, that's what he keeps telling the press.

At first, I thought them to be lovely and amiable as they paraded me through the largest crowd of fans I have ever seen in my entire life, hugging and kisssing me all the way through the shopping complex where they scrambled towards us for pictures and autographs. At that time, I was over the moon as it seemed that these people are going to support my dreams of becoming a world famous guitarist and hobby of learning as much as I can. But, I was much mistaken.

The second we entered their mansion and when the moody butler had slammed the colossal front doors shut, my adoptive parents seem to change from God-sent angels to the devil's servants. Instead of a "Welcome to your new home! Let us show you around", Mr. Black bellowed to a maid nearby, "TAKE THIS GRUBBY- FACED CREATURE TO HER ROOM! AND BY ANY MEANS DON'T LET HER OUT UNTIL YOU'VE GOTTEN RID OF THE SLIPKNOT T-SHIRT SHE'S GOT ON, AND THE ENTIRE RUGGED APPEARANCE AS WELL!"

I was completely taken aback by the change in personalities. Wasn't Mr. Black acting like the sweetest man on earth just a moment ago? Then, I had a lightbulb moment, this must be the ways of rich people. I was also a little frightened by his loud booming voice, if I were to be frank. But the maid merely nodded, and led me to a flight of stairs just a little to the right of where Mr. Black was standing.