One of the men opened fire again. This one—it was aimed right into her chest. Sank to where her heart was, already throbbing and raw and red. She had spent these past few weeks locked inside, told to sit in wait while people who hated her circled like vultures, and what was the point? Her heart had been hurting long before these bullets. It would keep on hurting even after this bullet was pushed out too, landing as emphatically as a teardrop shaped like death.
