The Place To Be: A Hamiton Fic

Chapter Four: Couldn't Seem to Die

On December 7th, my life changed.

I saw Hamilton. I realized that I'm destined to marry Chris de'Sean Lee (the actor for Laf/Jefferson in the Chicago show.) but most importantly, I met my idol: Karen Olivo.

The only thing that trumps her strong and beautiful voice is her kindness and her sincerity. She encouraged me to pursue my dream of broadway and left me with a chilling thought: "It won't be long now." Thank god for backdoor passes 😫

Here's a new chapter for y'all. I love you!

(I'll be seeing Phantom of the Opera downtown Chicago on December 15th. HMU if you'll be there)
******
*alexanders POV

"I don't remember much about the accident."I admitted to the therapist, shifting uncomfortably in the stiff office chair. "I don't remember much about anything, really. All I can remember is waking up and being told, 'You were in a coma for two months, your mother and cousin killed themselves while you were in said coma, and one day you're going to die because of the brain damage.' It didn't really affect me. I can't remember my family."

"Not at all?" The therapist asked, shocked.

"Nope."I shook my head and sighed. "Well, I can remember bits and pieces. My mother, sneaking me onto a ship that was New York bound. My cousin, Usnavi, helping me with my studies. Bits and pieces, little scenes, like parts of a movie. It's messy."

"Has it been improving?"

"Not really. But I met someone who I think used to know me. I remember him. He has some friends that might be able to help me, he says. They're flying in next week to meet me."

The therapist, an older woman with deep frown lines and small eyes, furrowed her brow. "Do you think that meeting these people will help your memory?"

I shrugged. "Maybe a bit. This boy, John Laurens. I'm already getting flashbacks of him, yet he's so stubborn in admitting he knew me. I think I hurt him somehow. I don't know."

I don't know anything. I woke up one day and I was like a newborn baby, even thought the doctors told me I was eighteen and my name was Alexander Hamilton and I was an illegal immigrant, but they weren't going to call the police or get me deported or anything. Funny how strangers can do the most amazing acts of kindness.

After a few weeks, my memory improved a bit, and I was let out of the hospital. Four days later I was admitted again for attempted suicide. Then I was in and out for four months. On the first day I was let out for good, I decided to go for a walk to clear my head.

I'd gotten some money from my cousin's insurance company to buy myself a small apartment and crappy phone. I found a small restaurant willing to hire me. I was going to apply for a community college, because according to the packet of grades and test scores my old school sent the doctors, I was quite the student.

On top of all this, I had a deep pull in my stomach that was dragging me to the edge of a cliff and jump. End it all. Fill the aching gap in my brain and finally have some peace.

But then I ran into him on the street. John Laurens. A tall, curly-haired kid with more freckles than I could count. Seeing him sparked something in me. A memory.

"John Laurens. It's nice to meet you. I hope you'll join us at our lunch table, Alex."

I remember looking at the boy, absolutely shell-shocked, and his expression was a direct mirror of mine. I knew him. My god, I remembered him.

"Alexander." The therapist interrupted my thoughts. "I understand your doctors have been very honest with you about the future of your wellbeing, correct?"

"You mean, have they told me I'm going to die? Well yes, I know." I answer dryly.

"And how does that make you feel?" God, I hated that condescending tone.

I shrugged. "Don't really care, honestly. There isn't anything here for me. I'm screwed, lady, and I don't need you or anyone else to tell me."

She raised a thin and probably drawn-on eyebrow. "Have you been taking those depression and anxiety pills i gave you?" The therapist asked.

Ive never stormed out of anywhere so quickly and so angrily ever in my life. I was stomping down the street with an extremely aggravated expression when suddenly my feet slammed to a halt. I became very still, and listened closely. I'd heard something.... a name, a melody.

Eliza.

It was soft and sweet and pretty. Eliza. A string of notes , a smile, a slender pair of hands against pale ivory piano keys. Eliza. Who was Eliza?

I started walking again, a confused but still happy smile on my face. Could my memory be coming back? Maybe the doctors were wrong, maybe the damage wouldn't be permanent!

I've cheated death before, why not do it again?

But who was Eliza? And what isn't John Laurens telling me? God, I have so much to remember. I can only pray that I have enough time to figure it out.

***
Shitty update, sorry. I'll be posting another chapter on Monday and that one will be really good. Love you!