A/N: I wrote this as a short story for my fiction writing class, and I may or may not continue it. Let me know what you think, though! I’d really appreciate any and all constructive criticism, as well as general thoughts on the story itself! : D

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Rebirth

An Original Story by Twitt

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            June 2nd, 1999. It was on that day my world collapsed. I had been studying for finals—like the good scholarly pre-med student I am—and was exhausted from the stress. The apartment was a mess, with my books, notes, and even my plastic model skeleton (who I lovingly christened “Sam”) littering the pad. It could’ve been called modern art, a representation of my current life. I often heated up water to make caffeine, and so it was out of sheer habit that I stuck the kettle, full of water, on the heated gas stove.

            My girlfriend was in the middle of a nervous breakdown, and she insisted on spending as much time with me as possible. As the good boyfriend, I tried to support her. I really did. She was just too selfish, too stubborn to see what she was doing to me in return, what her burdens were doing to me. I had to cut it off on the first day of June, a mere two weeks before school let out for the summer. I was heartbroken, but I couldn’t bear to shoulder her family crisis any more. It was just too painful.

            Even my cat had chosen that week to run away. But it wasn’t until that day, June the second, that my life seemingly fell apart before my eyes.

            I had left my books on the kitchen table of my apartment, taking a short break from studies to walk and clear my mind of my love life. The air was warm, muggy with the beginnings of a hot summer, so I tugged off my jacket and tossed it onto the model skeleton as I hurriedly stormed out the door. This would be a short walk, I hoped—I had a final the next morning, and I couldn’t afford to be away from the books for too long. I did need to think, though, as it was hard to rid her image from my mind as it appeared between paragraphs of biology and anatomy. Pre-med sucked a lot out of me.

            I had wanted to marry her at some point, but after seeing her reaction to a tragic death in the family, I wasn’t so sure anymore. She’d shown an ugly side of her that I’d only heard rumors about from her late younger brother. His death had taken its toll on me as well, as he’d become my own family during the short time I was with his sister. He had died instantly, victimized by the hands of a driver under the influence of too much alcohol. After that, I made a pact never to get too drunk to drive again. She abstained completely, and had cut off food much of the time as well.

            The calls at three in the morning began to grate on my nerves the most.

            “Kev?” she’d ask in her shaking voice. She often cried when she called me. “Did I wake you?”

            A pang of guilt on my end (was I being a bad boyfriend?), then I’d reply, “It’s alright, Bonnie. You needed to talk?”

            “I… I…” she’d sniff. (That’s right, Bonnie. It’s always about you.) A long pause. I hated it when she cried over the phone to me—it took that much longer to get her off the phone with assurances that she’d sleep, and then I’d have to be up and about anyway to get ready for class.

            I made it down the stairs of the apartment, shaking my head piteously. If I’d known she would become a clinger the instant something rough happened, I don’t know if I would have asked her out in the first place. Shame, though… she had such a pretty face, and was a damn good kisser. One of the best I’d ever dated. I can say with pride that I never went beyond the occasional make-out session, though… she never wanted to until after marriage. She had a great personality to boot, at least until her brother had died. Damn that drunk driver, anyway!

            I didn’t think about where I walked—the caffeine-induced adrenaline kept me alert enough that I wouldn’t do something so stupid as to wander in the street, but I was plenty lost in thought. My feet automatically pulled me towards the park down the street, even though I knew it would be rather crowded this time of year. Due to the early heat wave, everyone was anxious for summer to begin.

            I walked through the park, calmly dodging the occasional chubby toddler as he hurtled himself away from his parents, cackling at his misbehavior. The sight of families spending a peaceful weekend afternoon tugged at my chest, and I knew I wouldn’t have that for some time. After all, I had chosen the path of a doctor, and that would require a lot of my time. Even if I did get married, I wouldn’t be able to have this kind of free time for many years. It had always been an option to drop my pre-med major, but frankly, after three years of schooling in the field and a truckload of loans to pay off, I wasn’t up for scrambling for an extra year’s credits in order to graduate with a different degree. And I hadn’t even started med school yet.

            I was stuck, and life… well, life sucked. Heh, I created a rhyme… maybe I should’ve gone with English instead after all.

            My next destination was the store. I’d needed to pick up a few items there anyway, as I was running low on tea and milk. Tea was my lifeline, since I’d cut myself off from coffee after breaking up with Bonnie. It reminded me too much of her… The blaring siren of a passing fire truck dragged me from my train of thought. Damn, I was thinking too much again. It had only been what, a day? I glanced at my watch. Thirty-three hours, seven minutes, and five seconds. Shit. I didn’t realize just how long I had strayed from my studies, and I still needed to get to the store. I’d already taken a three-hour walk. I was going to feel that on my final exam.

            Have you ever been to the store and realized that you left your wallet at home only when you try to buy something? I hate the sickening feeling I get in my stomach when that happens. It’s just so embarrassing. Heat rushed to my face as I quickly apologized and asked if the cashier could just put the three items back on the shelf for me.

            I was getting frustrated, and I noticed partway home that I was stomping as I fumed at myself. I must be receiving strange looks from anyone passing me by—a young man storming down the sidewalk, muttering to himself angrily… a little too young to be one of those senile street bums who held up cardboard signs begging for work for an old veteran. I couldn’t suppress the smirk as a vision of myself as one of those men came to mind.

            My thoughts once again were cut off by a fire truck siren. Jeez, two in a day, eh? They must be busy with all the cats in the trees. Maybe they’d found my cat at long last…

            Suddenly, my heart lurched, and I wanted to be sick. I could smell the fire from where I stood, and it only grew stronger as I came closer to home. The apartments—something happened there. My step quickened, the stomping and moodiness giving way to a rushed concern. The stove… I’d left it on, with my tea water. Three hours, in this hot weather. Shit.

            I had been right—the apartments had been the destination of the fire trucks. There were actually four of them there, spraying up at several places with their long hoses. Panicked residents gathered around the base of the building, which I sickeningly realized was mine. This just wasn’t my year, was it? I blended carefully with the crowd and stared numbly at what was once my home being reduced to smoldering ruins.

            “…found a body there, must’ve been that young man,” a lady near me was saying. “He was a college student—they found his charred remains along with his I.D. card an’ all.”

            That clenching in my chest hurt, dammit. They weren’t talking about me, were they?

            “Shame, I didn’t even get to know him yet, and he was my neighbor,” another woman replied with a hint of feigned sadness. I recognized her—didn’t she live next door?

            “He had so much to look forward to in life, he did… was trying to become a doctor.” The first woman brushed furiously at tears that weren’t there.

            The second woman joined her, and they held each other solemnly.

            Wait a minute… they’d found a body and thought it was me? This was just too weird.

            “The firemen were amazed that any piece of his I.D. card survived, much less scraps of his jacket.”

            This was really getting bizarre. Whose body had they found with my jacket, my identity?

            “He was going to be a doctor,” the first woman repeated.

            Then it hit me. Sam. The skeleton. I’d tossed my jacket on him as I left the building to go on my hasty walk, and my wallet was in the jacket—it explained my embarrassment at the supermarket. Holy hell, they didn’t actually believe I was dead, did they? I nearly laughed. Nearly.

            A newscaster stood nearby (damn, the media moves quickly!), reporting on the fire and its containment, on speculations of its cause. They always dug too deeply into the situation. I didn’t really pay much attention to what the reporter was saying until I heard my name.

            “… Kevin Halifax was found dead in his apartment, the only casualty of the fire just yet. Kevin was a fourth-year pre-medical student at…”

            Oh god, they did believe it. Kevin Halifax was a dead man. My life had literally gone up in flames, and I was left without a name or identity. The steady thrum of my heart sped up, like going off a caffeine high, but I realized that this wasn’t caffeine-induced. It was panic. What was I supposed to do? Just waltz up to the newscaster and tap him on the shoulder?

            “Hi, I’m Kevin Halifax.” On public television.

            That would be amusing. It calmed my pulse down to a point where I didn’t think I’d spontaneously combust.

            But there was one small problem: I didn’t want to be Kevin Halifax anymore. I just wanted out. My world had collapsed, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Screw finals—there’s no excuse for missing exams like being dead, is there?

            Here it was. My one chance. I could start over again, live a new life, one without loans or ex-girlfriends or finals. I could try again. After all, I had nothing to lose. It was both completely logical and totally irrational, but hell, I didn’t care. I didn’t know where I would go to, whether I’d just be another veteran bum holding my own cardboard sign begging for money or work. I just didn’t want what I had before, and I wasn’t willing to deal with it anymore.

            June 2nd, 1999. The aspiring young pre-med student known as Kevin Halifax died in a fire in his apartment.