That can't be possible, can it? In fact, none of this should be possible. She shifts again, her frown deepening as she tries to feel anything left from the bullet that had hit her. "I got shot," she says, like she's trying to make it real, prove it to herself.
She definitely did – she remembers because she was there and also because you don't forget getting shot – but there doesn't seem to be any sign of it now.
Sharon sits up, swinging her legs over the edge of the table, and lifts her free hand to feel down between her shoulderblades.
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That can't be possible, can it? In fact, none of this should be possible. She shifts again, her frown deepening as she tries to feel anything left from the bullet that had hit her. "I got shot," she says, like she's trying to make it real, prove it to herself.
She definitely did – she remembers because she was there and also because you don't forget getting shot – but there doesn't seem to be any sign of it now.
Sharon sits up, swinging her legs over the edge of the table, and lifts her free hand to feel down between her shoulderblades.
Nothing. "Didn't I?"