"One more rep, Birdbrain. C'mon, you can do it."
Sweat stings Clint's eyes as he struggles to lift the weights. "It's too hard," he pants, trying to ignore the pain and the exhaustion and Tony's taunts.
"It's not too hard," Tony snapped. "Lift it, Clint. One more time."
With tremendous effort he locks his elbows, shoving the bar up to the required length.
"Atta boy," Tony says, and Clint snaps.
"Shut up!" he yells, hating the slight slur to his voice. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" With strength he didn't know he had, he hurls the weight forward. It crashes to the floor with a resounding bang.
Because all their platitudes can't change the fact that he's different. He's alive, but he's not Clint anymore.
Feeling death's hands close around his soul did that to him.