"Seeing if you were even conscious!" she blurted, not even sure what to say to him beyond that, because it was possible she didn't have a proper excuse. Not that it mattered if she died here, that wasn't actually a concern. Or, she guessed, it wouldn't be a concern if they recovered her body. If they didn't, well, that would suck. But she wasn't really thinking about that.
"What's hap--" Meredith started to ask, so she better understood the problem, but a bullet ripped through her back, through her lung, clipping her heart.
The problem with dying all the time was she still died. She was a normal girl, and she still felt the pain, she still felt the ugly jolt through her system as she recognized that she was about to die. She started to fall, some distant part of her realizing that her blood and other bits my heart? had gotten all over Adrian.