His shoulder checked firmly against the junction between my collarbone and shoulder with another fluid movement. It was my scream that pierced my eardrums. It scraped on my throat, causing it to get irritated.
Despite my shrillness, no one could hear me.
The room became a whirlpool for a brief moment. Pain was all I could see, causing white patches in my eyesight.
The glass then shattered. The only glass in a stone basement full of documents was a kerosene lamp Dean had dragged down from the museum display.
Fire. It's ablaze.
Dean and I are on a collision course. Between me and the door, a kerosene pool has bloomed into f*****g hellfire.
Dean added, "I can kill you as well."
And the files vanished, leaving nothing but a flurry of easily combustible scraps of paper in his hand
