The twenty-five-caliber bullets didn’t penetrate far into Cat’s body, but they didn’t have to. Each one tore tissue and blood vessels, and the fiery burn from the combined wounds robbed her of the ability to stand. Her legs turned to jelly and she fell against the wall. Then she slid to the floor, her hands trying to cover the suddenly bloody holes in her chest and belly.
Details!
Cat felt a hand on her chin, then the hand lifted her head and banged it against the wall. She barely felt it. Carlin’s face seemed to be miles away.
Will this leave fingerprints? I don't remember any mention of gloves.
But he’d never seen a dead person whom he’d known in life.
Well put.
You handled the aftermath of Cat's death really well, Terry. It can be hard not to get repetitive as each person finds out about the tragedy. Good job.
Corrina.
