The bullet fired before her eye could even make sense of its trajectory. The panic building up in her chest burst quite literally, as the shot tore through her clothing and pricked into her skin.
Her heart stopped—once again, quite literally. Her entire body froze, and the still image of the detective who fired the gun had it still aimed at her chest—yet without a single moment of shock or immediate remorse on in her eyes.
The blonde did not go limp; rather, every limb and every muscle went taut. And the excruciating pain of regaining all that sensation at once made her whimper and gasp a second or two later.
Light was not gone; she realized the world was still moving around her and her voice was her own, as well as the torrent of tears down her face.
She checked her chest in a panic, panting as she realized the bullet was nowhere to be found, and all that was left was a tinge of quickly-fading purple that webbed across her skin.
