“I will honour his work and serve my country with the same faith.” My whole class cheered as I ended my speech but I felt hollow, tears fell from my eye and I rushed to the restroom. Being a kid from a military background everyone expected me to stay strong during adversities but I couldn’t come to terms with the fact that I lost my father a month back. Talking about him as my role model in front of my classmates brought back all the pain and misery I had once suppressed. I tried to wipe my tears but they found their way out again, this was my ultimate breakdown. Suddenly, I heard the screeching sound of the fire alarm; I could hear the voices of all the scared students rushing down the hallway to the field as I wiped my tears sitting in the bathroom stall. Regardless of the fact that there was a fire burning somewhere around me I decided to stay in the stall till the search party came looking for me when I heard the voice of screaming children. Being a timid kid myself, I could never come to terms with seeing fear in people around me. I ran out of the stall following the anxious voices as they lead me to the panicking children it was as if my body was out of control and it had decided that it was my time to show bravery now to honour my father. Seeing their naïve faces I ran into 8-E to save the children. I quickly lead them out of the class to safety. A teacher was walking by locating the fire as she saw me rescuing the children she tried to reach out to me but the fire had set the door ablaze. I was trapped inside. Looking at the amount of fire I thought that the fire would surely turn me to ash in a while. I was dumbfounded this was a fearsome situation until I recalled one of my childhood incidents.  I remember once when I asked my father about how he got the courage to fight in wars he told me that a great man once said “Courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” I understood it now as I overcame my fear of death that had taken over me in last month as I saved the children. On my last breathes I decided to investigate the cause of this fire. Huffing, I looked for the source and found a broken beaker lying on the floor with white phosphorus spilled all around it. These children had stolen the phosphorus from the chemistry lab and set their classroom on fire not knowing about its effects. With the windows locked and door on fire, the room was filled with smoke and my lungs stopped supporting me, with blurry eyes I saw the fire-fighters making their way in to get to me as I collapsed to the ground. I do not remember what happened after that but the next day I woke up in a hospital room with my mother crying next to me. With the kind of damage my lungs had suffered doctors said it was a miracle I survived. I felt like I was reborn after this incident, I was no longer sulking about the loss of my father but I was rather proud to have had him in my life. I felt my mother’s hand on my shoulder as she tried to comfort me. I felt the pride in her eyes as she looked at me. After all I was her child, her little boy from South Street saving children in a fleet.