REBIRTH TO CHANGE MY FATE

Jake Morrison trudged through downtown, his worn sneakers barely holding together. Sweat dripped from his forehead, mixing with the grime of another fruitless day of job hunting. The rejection letters in his back pocket felt heavier than lead.

"Excuse me, mister!" A small voice pierced through the ambient city noise.

Jake turned to see a young girl, no more than ten, with tangled brown hair and dirt-stained clothes. Her eyes were wide with desperation as she approached him with tentative steps.

"Please, sir, I need money for food. My mama and I haven't eaten in two days," she pleaded, her voice cracking with genuine fear.

Jake's heart clenched. Here I am, barely scraping by myself, and this kid's got it worse. He reached into his wallet and pulled out his last hundred-dollar bill—his rent money.

"Here, take this," Jake said, extending the money toward her. "But I need ninety back, okay? Keep ten for you and your mom."

The girl's eyes lit up as she snatched the bill. "Oh, thank you! Thank you so much! I'll be right back with your change!"

Before Jake could respond, she sprinted away, disappearing around a corner. He stood there, wiping sweat from his brow, feeling a rare moment of satisfaction despite his own dire circumstances.

Minutes stretched into an eternity. Where is she? Jake's stomach knotted as doubt crept in. He followed the direction she'd gone, turning the corner to find a small coffee shop with large windows.

Through the glass, he spotted the girl inside, approaching a middle-aged woman with bleached blonde hair and too much makeup. The woman's face twisted with fury as the girl handed over the money.

"You stupid little brat!" the woman hissed, her voice carrying through the thin walls. "A hundred dollars? That's it? I told you to get at least three hundred!"

The girl cowered. "I'm sorry, Linda! He only had—"

"Don't give me excuses!" Linda grabbed the girl's arm roughly. "You're worthless! Absolutely worthless! Can't even do one simple job right!"

Jake's blood boiled. This isn't right. That kid's being used. Without hesitation, he pushed through the coffee shop door.

"Hey!" Jake called out, his voice cutting through the tension. "Let go of her!"

Linda spun around, her expression shifting to false sweetness. "Oh, hello there! Is there a problem?"

"Yeah, there's a problem," Jake stepped closer, his jaw clenched. "This girl conned me out of money for you, didn't she?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Linda replied with an exaggerated innocent tone. "Sarah here is my daughter, and—"

"Bullshit," Jake interrupted. "I'm calling the police."

Linda's mask dropped completely. "Mind your own damn business, you broke-looking loser! Nobody asked for your opinion!"

"Actually, they did." Jake pulled out his phone. "When you sent a kid to scam people on the street."

Two men emerged from the back of the coffee shop—clearly Linda's accomplices. The larger one sneered at Jake.

"You got a problem, pal?" the man growled. "Because we can solve it real quick."

"Yeah, I've got a problem with adults exploiting children," Jake replied, already dialing 911.

The police arrived within ten minutes. Linda's protests grew more desperate as handcuffs clicked around her wrists.

"This is harassment!" she screamed. "He's lying! You can't prove anything!"

"Ma'am, we've been tracking reports of child exploitation in this area for weeks," Officer Martinez explained calmly. "You and your associates are coming with us."

As the squad cars pulled away, Jake felt a surge of pride. At least I did something right today. The girl had been taken into protective custody, and for the first time in months, Jake felt like he'd made a real difference.

The bus stop was only two blocks away. Jake's legs felt heavy with exhaustion, but his spirit was lighter. Maybe things are finally looking up.

He was checking the bus schedule when he heard footsteps behind him. Before he could turn around, powerful hands shoved him hard from behind.

"Should've minded your own business," a gravelly voice snarled.

Jake stumbled forward, straight into the path of an oncoming car. The driver's horn blared, but there was no time to stop. The impact was immediate and crushing—

What the hell?

Jake gasped, finding himself standing at the exact same bus stop, checking the exact same schedule. His heart hammered against his ribs as he spun around. The same man who had pushed him was approaching with murderous intent in his eyes.

This isn't possible. I just died. I know I died.

"Time to teach you a lesson about—" the man began, reaching out to shove Jake again.

This time, Jake was ready. He sidestepped at the last second, and the man's momentum carried him forward, stumbling directly into the street. The same car, the same horrific sound of impact, but this time it wasn't Jake who was hit.

The man's body crumpled against the asphalt as the car screeched to a halt. Jake stood frozen, watching the scene unfold exactly as it had moments before—except he was the one still breathing.

This can't be real. People don't get second chances like this.

Jake stumbled backward, his mind reeling. The gathering crowd, the sirens in the distance, the smell of burnt rubber—it was all too vivid to be a dream, too impossible to be reality.

He ran. His legs carried him through the sweltering streets until he reached his run-down apartment building. Inside, Jake collapsed onto his threadbare couch, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.

Did I really just experience my own death and somehow come back?

The next morning, sunlight streamed through his cracked blinds. Jake sat up slowly, his body aching as if he'd been hit by a truck—which, technically, he had been. Or thought I had been.

He reached for his grandmother's antique pocket watch, the one thing of value he'd never considered selling. His fingers found only empty space on the nightstand.

"What the hell?" Jake muttered, searching frantically through his belongings. The watch was gone—completely vanished without a trace.

First I die and come back to life, now my most precious possession disappears. What kind of twisted game is this?

Jake stared at the empty spot where the watch should have been, his mind spinning with questions that had no rational answers. Whatever had happened yesterday, whatever force had given him that impossible second chance, it had taken something precious in return.

But why the watch? And what does any of this mean?