Moriarty screamed.
No particular word or phrase. He just kept screaming very loudly, his veins popping up on his arms and neck as he poured all his effort into his voice.
Hands clenched in concentration - over what, nobody could read - as he continued destroying his vocal cords. Perhaps it was a hilarious sight to behold at first, but the longer it continued, the scarier it got. He just didn't stop!
But Why??
He could've sworn his voice was going to die, but he just kept screaming at the top of his lungs. They were much different from the way he'd shout when he was angry. He didn't look sad or angry or even scared at all. It was rather difficult to pin down his emotion if he even felt anything at that moment.
He wasn't numb, there seemed to be some motive behind his odd behavior, but it was brilliantly, unknowingly, masked. He was too focused on screaming now.
YOU ARE READING
Actor
Random|| A C T O R || I T || S T O R Y T E L L E R || C R I M I N A L || G E N I U S || P S Y C H O P A T H || Come and play, darling. "All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players;" ~William Shakespeare. (Roleplay book)
