dislocation 2

I began to lift a hand, to flick a wave of force at him, to take the gun out of his hand—but I didn’t.
I looked at my arm. I told it to rise. It ignored me. I couldn’t tell what was going on behind the cloud of static flooding my nervous system. Christ, that was the shoulder I’d dislocated, again. Without being able to sense the pain of the injury, I hadn’t noticed.

Battle Ground Chapter 21, Page 202