pyrokinesis

The walls of the apartment building entrance were cold, permeated with the pungent smell of old paint and dampness. You sat on a concrete step between the second and third floors, hugging your knees with your arms. The most terrible thoughts flooded your mind, and it felt as if the tears would never end.
You didn't want to go home. It was too agonizing and unbearable there. The constant fighting between your parents and their drinking bouts. Every single thing in your house reminded you of exactly what had collapsed today. Here, in the stairwell, where a lightbulb flickered dimly, it felt like you could simply fade away.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from above—light, swift. You held your breath, hoping the person would just pass by, but the footsteps stopped right in front of you.
This silence turned out to be far more terrifying than the noise itself. You felt a cold drop of sweat slowly trickle down your spine, and your heart hammered rapidly, ready to burst out at the slightest sound.

"Hey..." — a quiet, slightly uncertain voice spoke.

You didn't lift your head, only pressing your face deeper into your knees.

"Are... are you okay?"