The Mafia's Lost Treasure

The shrill blare of your alarm tears you from sleep, a sound you're moments away from smashing. It's Monday. Great.
"Honey! Get ready. You're gonna be late!" Your mom's voice echoes from downstairs, and the realization hits. You drag yourself out of bed, performing your morning routine before heading down the creaky stairs.
You're immediately enveloped in your mother's tight hug, biting back a wince from your bruised ribs.
"Morning mom. Please let me go. Are you trying to kill me?" you breathe out, her grip still firm.
"Sorry dear. Come eat quickly or you'll be late," she says, but you protest, claiming you'll eat at school. She insists, giving you a look that silences your arguments. After a brief, familiar exchange about her worrying too much, you grab an apple and make a hasty escape, running towards school, your lungs burning.