I do not own Naruto. Unfortunately.
Crap.
That is exactly what my day was. I knew today was going to be bad because I got my period, on prom night might I add. But most importantly I never got my desperately needed caffeine fix. I should have known that the day would just progress in its downfall. I would have whined at the injustice of this whole situation if it wasn't my life at stake. Okay, let's rewind and re-track. Last thing I can recall was coming home late at night after the party. I clambered to the living room's sofa in pure exhaustion since I was way too tired to climb those steps to my room. Then as I closed my black eyes, I fell on top of my cottony heaven. But instead of the sensation of soft loveliness, I hit unforgiving wood.
Yeah, I am screwed. I was sprawled all over the wood floor, incapable of even running or sitting up in such a tight black dress without help. But even if I got to a standing (with heels by the way), I would probably end up on the floor again. Seriously, I'm sure a strong breeze could shove me to the ground...let alone a group of elite ninjas.
So here I am about to have a panic attack with the occasional pain of cramps to remind me how real –and utterly dangerous-the situation was. I couldn't do anything in such hindering attire and the constant pain in my stomach. Just a few hours ago I adored this black prom dress for its lacey beauty, but now I wanted to shred, burn –obliterate- it to the ground. Did I mention I was having a difficult time breathing in this dress? How could I expect myself to do anything? I was completely at their mercy.
Crap. Crap. Crap. The mantra continued in my head as I stared dumbfounded at the individuals -...fictional characters- in front of me. It looked like I was in the Hokage's office which would explain the group of Anbu. The air was tense with five Anbu circling me and the Sandaime Hokage's glare was a deadly combination. I was speechless and sweating like a pig. Probably smell like one too since I forgot to put deodorant on.
Perfect. I'm a bloody, smelly, dead woman 'cause that's how everyone wants to be remembered.
I always accepted that my death would come eventually, and that there was no point to worry over it. But I never thought that someone would kill me. Old age, illness, car accident, drowning were all more likely factors I would die of, but definitely not murder.
I couldn't say a word as my throat felt itchy, my nose trembled, and my eyes stung fiercely at the idea of my death.
Mercy.
So when a sword appeared –too fast, so fast- at my throat, and dug enough to break skin I couldn't hold my panic in.
...
I bawled.
A/N: If you want, let me know what you guys think so far. Love it? Abhor it? I am unsure if I should continue this bunny plot I have, so I guess I'll see what the public thinks.
Criticism is welcomed, but please no bashing as it'll hurt my cute nonexistent confidence.
c: