I looked down at my chest and back up at her. Did she really just . . .?
The woman pushed my backwards and I fell onto the couch, noticing the red spreading on my nice blue shirt.
"Now look what you've done!" the man exclaimed, "what if she knew where they were?"
"Interrogating her would take longer than searching for them, so let's just go."
"But she ain't dying fast enough 'cause you're an awful shot! From point-blank range, even!"
"Shut up, idiot, I know what I'm doing."
I coughed and fell off the sofa, finding it strangely hard to move.
"Obviously not," the man said, and picked me up and set me back on the couch. "Do you know where they are? You can do one good deed before you die, at least. Help catch some terrorists, you know, lock up the guys who killed two hundred people."
"Yeah, we're cops," the woman added. Cops? I should help . . . but I don't know . . . and they shot me, do cops shoot people? No. . . so . . . I lost my train of thought.
"Hey! Where are the twins?" the man asked. I looked at him and realized that I should help him. Somehow. Cops . . . are good. My eyes started to close.
"Told you she wasn't worth it," a voice said. It echoed through my brain and was the last thing I heard.