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Summary
It was like the door was on fire.
Stiles stood there, staring. As the realization sunk in, he slowly reached for the doorknob. He grabbed it. It burned, as if blazing hot and freezing cold at the same time. He was stuck, fascinated, and then the door clicked-
-and he was blasted with rage and grief so powerful the next thing he saw was the ceiling of his room.
Who was that?