"If I told you that she's dead, what would you do? A clean bullet shot straight through her pretty little head," she stated, her blood red lips parted as she laughed maniacally. The male she spoke to stood stalk still, his face calm even after hearing her cruel words.

She knew it was coming, even before he raised the black gun and pressed it against her forehead.

A soft metallic click told her all she needed to know.

He was going to kill her and she was going to let him. It was too late to take back her words, not that she was going to. She wanted to die by his hands, wanted him to kill off what she would not, it was her last choice.

clogged up and she choked on words that never left her lips. She wanted this, she wanted him to end her and what could never be. But why, why did her eyes burn? Why did the tears come down? Why did she regret?

She was known as a ruthless woman, the most deadly of them all. She'd killed plenty of people that opposed her, killed plenty of innocent people. But this time it felt different. She couldn't kill it, no matter how she tried.

Her hands STILL trembled.

This was no different, she had told herself.

Yet she couldn't... she wouldn't.

She shouldn't be crying, she told herself. The tears were ruining the perfect image she wanted to leave him with.

Perfect hair.
Perfect makeup.
Perfect outfit.

Everything was perfect.

She was gorgeous. Yet she didn't feel gorgeous, didn't feel like anything.

She was sure he wouldn't want it. The woman he loved wouldn't want it. She didn't dare ask him, didn't dare to tell him.

What better than to let him kill off the one part of her that was alive? Her heart had died the moment he raised the gun against her.

She felt him become rigid, his hands gripped the gun. She knew he had chosen.

Hysterical laughter billowed out of , contrary to the tears that glided down her pale cheeks.

She sounded hollow. The laughter was bitter.

She gripped the gun and willed her eyes shut as she pulled it down level with her stomach. Just in time too, she thought.

The feeling was foreign, painful and nostalgic.

She had been shot by a gun many times, this time felt different. The bullet seemed to rip past her soul. The agony that came from felt as if someone had stabbed her repeatedly with a dull knife, willing her to bleed and bleed and bleed.

She didn't cry for herself, didn't scream the agony of her own death, only the death of innocence, of something that could never be. The tears continued to run down her face and he hesitated. She felt his hesitation.

Ah, so her tears had made him hesitate, but it was too late. Too damned late.

She ran her arm down to her stomach, cupping it as blood gushed from the wound.

He had shot her in the stomach. No. It was the stomach... and yet it wasn't.

It had slipped through her fingers. What little life she had left. Then the words slipped past .

"Sorry," she whispered bitterly, hysterically. The sorry wasn't for him.

No, never.

He stopped for a moment, almost questioningly as he glanced down at her teary face.

Again, he hesitated.

She was saying "sorry," it was unusual. She wasn't the type to say sorry, ever. He accepted it blindly, almost stupidly, never realizing for a moment WHO it really was meant for.

That 'sorry' didn't stop him. He raised the gun to her forehead; the pain of losing a loved one was making him stiff, making him daunting. Setting his face in stone, he turned his head.

She waited for the killing blow. Knew it was coming and accepted it. Then the words appeared again.

"Sorry."

Bubbling out of , out of control.

Tears seeped from her downturned eyes.

The words became a mantra, leaving at an alarming rate.

The precious life had died. She became hysterical and the words filled the silence. "Sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry..."

She teetered; feeling all strength leave her, feel that one slip of life leave her.

The second shot rang true. As she stumbled back, he had shot her a second time.

The bullet lodged itself into the pale column of . Still, she croaked and wheezed her 'sorry". She could feel liquid fire burn down , could feel what little semblance of life leave her.

Her lips still spilled her words of regret. Reality was lost to her.

Her body felt heavy, her ears still heard the fading sounds of his footsteps. She squeezed her eyes shut, and willed them to open to an onslaught of tears.

Breathing was becoming a difficult thing for her.

Then she remembered, you didn't need to breathe when you die.

She could hear herself choking, the wheezing that filled the silent alley as contracted.

Though gasped in as much air as it could, it never reached her lungs, only broke free through the hole her lover wrought.

Her eyes were unseeing. Her body wracked in spasms of shock. She knew she was dying. She didn't dare deny it.

The one thing that never stopped was her silent "sorry". formed the word over and over again, even as the last breath fluttered out of her.

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That's the ending. Very tragic and dark right? Sometimes I feel pretty emo or something... Lolz I don't know how it came to be but this was something I wrote a while back when I was still in school and depressed from all the homework... Lol. School can kill you I tell you!

Anyways, I originally wanted to make Hinata hella dark and different from her usual self. So this Hinata came to be. She's more stronger I think. I've always wanted to make Hinata the other woman so in this one shot she is. Haha... Hope you guys like it... I wrote a couple paragraphs on Sasuke's view but I need to fix it and arrange it so maybe I'll post it later. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hinata or Sasuke! Although I wish I did. I would do things to them no one would imagine.... Hahaha! Ahem....