Tommy sat, huddled in his closet as he listened to the flames devouring the house beyond the door.
This wasn’t what he’d intended. It was only supposed to be a small fire.
Like last time?
He shook his head, trying to throw away the memory, but it remained.
Like the last time, he’d only wanted to show what he could do. He thought he could control the flames, but they refused to be controlled.
“I promise I’ll be good next time.” Tears ran down his ten-year-old face, evaporating as the heat coming from him increased.
There’s always a next time.