In the movies, when guys are shot, it all breaks down into slow motion. The gun, the bullet, the hero dodging and then whipping out his sidearm to enact righteous retribution, even though a bullet has ripped through his collarbone or something.
In the movies, they lie.
The bullet slams into my chest and my body reacts, a literal puppet to the laws of physics. I twist my ankle as I execute a half spin on my way down to kiss the ground. Somewhere along the line my throat makes a sound in-between a whine and a loud cough. My mind registers the ankle as a minor annoyance. First things first, I have to try and breathe. But I can't.
In the movies they lie.
Welcome to real life.The villains live, and the idiot, wannabe heroes ... we're the ones that die.