Jem was halfway to the cell before he realized that he was holding his breath, and had to twist his ankle three-quarters of the way there before he stopped to realize that he was crying.
How many years had he been with Saldan? Nearly ten? And all of them he had been deceived. He had always perceived Saldan as his savior, a man who cared about him, and just happened to be a corsair on the side. If he had cursed the foolishness that earned him his wounded arm, he cursed the foolishness that had gotten him involved with Saldan a hundred times more. He would have been better dead on the streets than a part of this crew.
He was only several yards from the cell when he stopped to dry his eyes, to make sure that the children did not see him weeping.
"Something wrong, Jem?" the boy asked as Jem finally approached the cell, still stumbling. His ankle was not badly hurt, but it pained Jem a little. He barely noticed.
"Shut up and just do as I say," Jem snapped. It was the harshest he had ever been with the children, and they looked at him, surprised. He gave a frustrated sigh and went to unlock the cell. "We don't have much time. I don't know who you are, but Yr Saldan wants you dead if you don't tell him. You didn't tell me, so I'm guessing that you won't tell him, and he won't ask nicely, either. I've got to get you out of here." He jammed the third wrong key into the lock, and cursed savagely. Then he looked at the children and cursed again, silently. "I mean, blast. Quit looking at me like that."
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"Oh, my god! I care so little, I almost passed out!" --Dr. Cox, "Scrubs"
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