Tom searched frantically through the burning room. The words kept repeating in his mind “never break a promise“

“Come on, we need to get out of here,” Jon cried, half dragging Jenny behind him.
“But what about Thomas?” she asked. “What about my locket?”
“He’ll come,” Jon assured her. “He always does.”

The fire had burnt Tom countless times before he spotted a glitter amoung the flame. He dove and his hand caught a gold chain, as well as a oval locket. He stood, panting, looking at the gold that reflected the fire, superior to any work of the greatest painters. Glancing down he saw a picture of an old woman, and was about to grab it when the the patch of floor before him burst into flames. He backed up and raced out of the compartment, the gold chain hot in his hand.
“Jon! Jon! Where are you?” Tom shouted, running through the crowded corridor, being pushed by the flow of the mob.
Suddenly something hit him and he fell to the ground, unconsious.