Say something. Say something. Say something.

The words repeated over and over in your head until you weren't sure if it was your voice or someone else's.

Spinning in a blur of images; red, apology, laughter, tumbling back, the shot.

Clint.

Your eyes flashed open and upon seeing the sight before you a scream escaped your lungs.

The man stumbled back from the bed in which you lay, his hand slipping out of yours.

No. No, no, no.

A group of people charged in the room and it was then that you became aware of the alarm, signalling your change in heart rate.

You stared blankly at the man, ignoring all the others. No. No, no, no, no.

He was smirking, an eyebrow raised as he leant against the window sill.

No. Stop. Go away.

(The next part is what was deleted. Damn you Wattpad.)

After what seemed like a breath of time, the Doctors abd Nurses left, leaving you with him. The one responsible.

Peter. Peter with his green eyes and blond hair. Peter who had got Clint killed.

A fracture of doubt in your mind- you had survived so why couldn't Clint? But you weren't the one who had been shot directly in the head.

"Hey, (y/n)!" Peter said happily, sitting on the end of your bed.

You glared at him before spitting out the words, "Hello Peter."

He smiled, "Not pleased to see me, love?"

"I can't imagine why I would be."

"I can. Afterall, I did shoot both you and your boyfriend."

Your hands tightened into fists, "You were the sniper?"

"Well, no. But we're all basically the same person anyway."

You rolled your eyes, "Why are you here? Why were you holding my habd?"

Peter chuckled, "Ah yes. The handholding. I was hoping you'd think I was your dear Katniss."

"Get out."

He laughed and grabbed your hand, holding your wrist tightly so you wouldn't get away.

"I just want you to know," he laughed again, taking a moment to get his breath back, "that I am truly sorry for your loss."

You lifted your leg, kicking him away from you. You felt a tightness in your chest but ignored it.

Peter left, waving cheerily to you from the door, "Catch you later Princess!"

He was going to die. You were going to kill him. As soon as you got out of here.

Suddenly, your phone rang. You quickly turned your attention to the bedside table where your phone was plugged in and charging. Somehow you doubted Peter had been so considerate.

Then you noticed the contact name and your heart skipped a beat.

Clint.

You fumbled to pick up the phone, pressing the accept call button and placing the phone to your ear.

"Clint?"

"Ohh... it's that (y/n)!" You heard Peter's familiar laugh from the other end of the call before you pressed end call. Why couldn't he leave you alone?

For the rest of the day you saw your family and friends. They were glad to see you awake after a week of silence. The doctor's told you were lucky to be alive but it wasn't like you needed to be told that.

Finally, the day was over and you got to be alone.

You had just turned off the light, ready to sleep when your phone began to ring again.

Half expecting it to be Peter again, you looked only to see 'Unknown Number'.

"Hello, (y/n) (y/l/n)."

Nothing. You waited a few seconds and heard a slight intake of breath.

"Hello?" You asked.

Nothing still.

"Peter. If this is you I am going to find you personally and make you-"

"(Y/n)."

You stopped, mouth agape. It couldn't be.

"Clint?"

The phone call ended and you were left with the beeping.

No. No. You had to know.

You called the number four times but each time there was no answer.

No.