From Which I Give My Readers A Notice

Author's Note:

Just wanted to let all the people who faved this version of the story know that it's not going to be updated.

Ever.

I found that I disliked the way it was going and have decided to republish it with some major changes.

And since there's a rule against having a page of just an 'Author's Note'—doesn't make bloody sense, and I've seen plenty of other's do it, but whatever—I'll give you a preview of a chapter-to-be-that-could-be-changed for the other one.

Sooooooo... wanna go fave, or whatever, the other one now, lol?

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If I could have seen the Uchiha's face, he'd probably be smirking or something. I mean, abusing poor innocent civilians—like me—was probably a secret pastime he had.

I kinda put myself in this predicament anyway though.

My touch and go plan of snatching a kunai from a sleeping Hidan to stab him with hadn't been very bright. Well, at first it had been for defense if needed, but I had needed it and, now, I still do.

Too bad the kunai only shifted through him and disappeared.

The oppressive foot on my back shifted a little, getting just a tad bit more heavier.

I'll probably be a jackrabbit for the rest of my life after this. If there is even an after this.

Eyes wide, my breath hitched when I felt the foot move side to side a bit again.

"And it would be just so, very, very, easy just to snap your spine here and now, wouldn't it?" Madara sneered from above me."But if I snap it just in the right place, you'll get a painful and slow death."

I'm wasn't sure if that was true, but I really didn't want to find out. Squirming underneath his foot, water gathered at the edge of my eyes.

I shakily sucked back a breath.

"Aw, is the poor little girl crying? Does she perhaps wish to call for her mommy?" mocked the voice behind the orange mask.

He had probably thought I had been too scared to scream. Or that my pride wouldn't let me—not that I had much use for pride with people that can kill me in over a million ways.

I bet he was surprised when I did scream.

He had stiffen—his foot on my back told me all I had needed to know—and stood there, most likely thinking I hadn't actually screamed. That maybe it had been apart of his insane mind.

But then I screamed again and was left to the mercy of his organization's seven other members when his foot left from my back.

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