Drawing a shuddering breath, he repositions his wheelchair.
“Cables hissing and snapping, my little brother screaming. Dad wrapped his arms around me, and we were tumbling through the trees.”
“I was five when I lost them all, even my grandparents.” His voice has hardened. “Forced into this nonexistence, Your Honour.”
His eyes spew fire. “Fifteen years I hunted down the bastards who deactivated the emergency brakes, and then I shot them. And I would do it again, a thousand times over.”