A/N: Hello! This little drabble is incredibly short and quick and not so sweet. It was kind of something that threw together in about twenty minutes during breaks from summer work {yay for AP World!} and I figured I'd post it, just because I'll wind up deleting it if I don't. I really love Cam and Maya as characters and I think they're just the cutest couple, though this really doesn't reflect that. lol.

This is my rewrite of the "It's like my head isn't screwed on right" scene, but Cam has already jumped. If you like this, let me know and I'll clean up some of my other Cam/Maya {Caya, Maybell, Camaya?} stuff and post it! :)

Anyway, I kind of pulled an iota of inspiration from the song "Bullet from a Gun" by The Script, hence the title. I don't own that, nor do I own Degrassi or any of its characters.

Thanks for reading, dolls! xx

Feel free to point out mistakes! I edited this in less time than it takes me to brush my hair, which is pin-straight and doesn't tangle. harhar. xD

"You didn't fall off the catwalk, did you?" Maya's silvery-blue eyes bore into his, her thin lips pulled down into an accusatory frown. She sounded so hurt, so disappointed. His cheeks inadvertently flushed a deep scarlet. Completely abashed by her out-of-the-blue comment, he could do nothing but stare at her, grappling for an explanation. His promise from just a few days ago mocked him; Maya, I'm not some loser who tries to hurt himself.

"And your hand too! You've been playing hockey all your life and suddenly you've forgotten that the blades of your skates are sharp?" Her voice swam through his eardrums, echoing around in his skull until it finally settled into his brain. It didn't matter; he could barely make sense of it.

"What?" The strangled word unintentionally slipped off his tongue. He could feel the panic rising in his stomach; almost see it reflected in Maya's glasses. She showed no signs of backing down. She knew, she knew, she knew. His head ran circles around him.

"You know what." She threw her hands in the air. His eyes followed them all the way back down to her sides before snapping back to her face. He was petrified, she was defiant. Her expression was screaming for him to give her something, some sort of explanation as to why he would do something so stupid. There was no convincing her that he didn't do it on purpose. She had caught him. It was over. Frustratingly, he couldn't force anymore words to come.

His silence seemed to fuel her anger. "Campbell, answer me!" Her eyes began to fill with tears as her voice cracked up an octave. Still, he could do nothing but try to figure out how everything had gone so bad so quick. Idiotically, he had thought his daft, outlandish plan would work. He had gotten his break from hockey; he should have been stress free, happy. A broken arm, it wasn't much, but it was enough. But he should have known it wouldn't satisfy him. A few cuts and an ugly, plaster cast did virtually nothing to fill the void created when he left home.

But that wasn't it either. Leaving home wasn't what caused all of it. It was before that, months, a year, two years before that. Immediately, images rushed through his thoughts: Justin, he, and his father driving to hockey practice for the recreational team; Justin in the driver's seat; his father telling Justin to watch his speed; the ear-shattering screech of metal-on-metal; sirens, lights, hysteria. Each image one after the other, like a flipbook of disgusting Polaroid photos. It was enough to make anyone's stomach churn.

As if he was trying to force the awful memories out of his ears, he shook his head rather maliciously before meeting Maya's eyes once more. The severe look she had worn minutes ago had melted into a look of pity, her eyes heavy. Someone was sobbing, he could hear them, but Maya's lips were still pressed into a thin line and as far as he knew, no one else was home. It took until her lanky arms wrapped themselves around his torso for him to realize that it was he who was crying.

"Oh, Cam. Shh, don't cry, it's all right." She cooed. He had never been so mortified. Subconsciously, he pulled away, almost instantly longing for the warmth they shared for that split second. He stumbled backwards as he jumped to his feet. In their moment of close proximity, it seemed that Maya's anger had been transferred into Cam.

"No, Maya! It's not all right. Everything isall wrong!" He fumed; the emasculating sobsbroke his retorts, diminishing the effect they would have had had he been in a stable frame of mind. Once again, a pained look painted itself across Maya's face.

"Cam, everything is going to be fine." A hint of hopelessness tainted her voice, as if she was trying to talk him down off a ledge when she knew he was going to jump anyway. He struggled to calm himself down before he opened his mouth again. The wave of fury had washed back out to sea as quickly as it had washed up on shore.

"You don't get it. I was supposed to be happy! This was supposed to make me forget, Maya!" He lifted his casted arm and dropped it for dramatic effect. "But it didn't work, it didn't do anything. All it's done is make me feel even worse and I don't know what to do to make it stop. It's like my head isn't screwed on right!" He crumbled back against the wall, defeated.

For what felt like hours, neither one of them said anything. The tension in the air was so thick one could slice it with a knife. Campbell had backed himself into a corner, both literally and figuratively. Maya perched herself on his carefully made bed, clearly struggling to find something to say to console him. He found himself wishing for her to leave so he could drown alone. He could feel his anxiety inching itself up his body, threatening to consume him. His chest heaved with every shallow breath he dragged in. His heart hammered in his ears uncomfortably.

"I think you should to talk to someone." Her sudden statement surprised him. To his embarrassment, his breath caught in his throat, manifesting itself as a sharp gasp. Maya ignored it, her cheeks tinted pink and eyes watery, she continued. "You need to get help. You're not okay, Cam, and as much as I desperately want to help you, I don't have the knowledge of a professional and I probably never will in this life."

Cam could feel his jaw go slack, but couldn't find the strength to pull it back. He gaped at her, dumbstruck. He could feel the heat creep up his neck and spill over his cheeks once more. Maya averted her gaze to her shoelaces. The tension grew thicker.

He couldn't wrap his head around what she had suggested. The anger that had seemed to have passed returned in full force. Maya thought he was crazy, a psycho, a maniac, a loser who tried to hurt himself. His good arm pulled him to his feet. His mind raced as the words he had carefully planned in his head abandoned him and his tongue took over all of his ability to speak. "Leave." Venom dripped from the one, regrettable word. The effect it seemed to have was incredible; a bewildered Maya stood from his bed and walked out, shooting him a sympathetic, yet wounded look as she went.

Weeks had passed since that day in his bedroom and still he could not bring himself to speak to her. She had tried and tried and tried again, he couldn't be bothered. He was unbelievably hurt by her insinuation and he wasn't sure if he'd ever forgive her. No matter how many times she had whispered an apology, begged him to talk to her, pleaded with him to help her fix them, he just couldn't knock the feeling of betrayal from his system.

What's done is done. You can't reverse the bullet from a gun. His brain chanted the mantra like his life depended on it. Perhaps it was what kept him from melting back into Maya like part of him so desperately wanted. Perhaps it was protecting him. He didn't know.