Elevators don’t work down here. There’s very little electricity. We use that for necessary times only. The light comes from torches and lanterns. We’ve constructed a sort of lift that you pull a rope to activate. Once you pull it, you use a makeshift weight made of rocks and attach it to the rope. Then you climb onto the lift. It automatically brings you up to the level you need to get to. The amount of weights attached is equal to the level you go to. Pulling down the lift is a bit trickier. You have to remove a precise number of weights, and if you remove it too quickly the lift will come down rapidly and crash. Just like how removing too many weights is a problem, adding too many is a bigger one. You will go up too far. There is an emergency escape mechanism in the lift. Today I had too much on my mind. I walked over to the lift, intending to go to the kitchen on the highest floor. Cooking always calmed my nerves. I bent down to pick up the weight, forgetting to pull the rope first. I sighed. I placed down the weight and yanked on the rope so it came down far enough to put on the weights. I climbed onto the lift and sat on my heels so as to reach the rope. I tied it around the weights. In my racing thoughts, I temporarily forgot how to count. I miscounted the weights and nearly added too many. I finished adding the weights and allowed it to pull me up to the top. I sat down, legs crossed. I began to meditate. It allowed me to think. I was feeling calmer. Until my head brushed something. I realized I was touching the tightly packed dirt roof. I gasped as I suddenly knew I had added one too many weights. “No worries,” I thought to myself. “Look for the emergency escape mechanism…” I searched for the trapdoor with the latch and soft landing pad. I could unlock the trapdoor and throw down the pad so I’d land safely. I located the door. I fiddled with the latch. I panicked as I realized it was rusted. Nobody had used it in years! I pulled and pulled. It refused to budge. My only two options were to stay there until someone pulled down the lift somehow, or dig my way up to the surface. The first option was out. It was impossible to pull down the lift when there was someone on it. It was for safety reasons. The one option left could be deadly. Havoc and destruction had been wreaked on the world above. The air was unbreathable. Dragons roamed the sky and blasted fire on the surface. Forests were burned down and all species except humankind, dragons, and some bacteria were extinct. Dragons would ruthlessly kill nearly any human who dared climb out of the surface. For extreme, extreme emergencies only, there were gas masks packed in a storage bin on the lift. I thought this was a fitting time- stay there and starve, or dig my way out and possibly survive. I strapped a gas mask onto my face. It stank of dirt and mysterious smells that developed in the bin over time. I began to dig. The brittle dirt flaked away as I scratched it. I scratched until my fingers were raw and pink. I decided that method was too slow. I punched the roof. I punched it over and over again. A crack slowly formed in the roof. I shielded my head. The dirt and rocks collapsed on top of me. I climbed my way out into the destruction above. Giant dragons circled the sky. The clouds were blood red and fire burned along the horizon. A slight crackling sound burned in my ears. My rattling breathing was the loudest thing in the world until a dragon roared.

I grinned at the havoc I had wreaked.

When I was young, people always told me I would be a heartbreaker. I don’t think this is what they meant.

 I sang with soul, the name Heartbreaker flashing on the screen above me. I tilted my head back slightly as I sang, pouring all my emotion into my music. The audience clapped along.

 The song I was singing was called Lights Out. It was only fitting for the stage along with the entire room to be bathed in darkness all of a sudden. I stopped singing abruptly and the only sound was the creaking of the velvet seats.

 The audience became uneasy. My drummer banged on the drum once, twice. I grinned. A clattering sound erupted from the speakers. Two thousand heads turned. 

 I pressed a hidden button on my microphone. Red lights shone through the cracks in the two double doors in the back of the theater. 

 In a split second, the doors banged open and the theater flooded with red lights and fog. 

 I sang as loud as I POSSIBLY COULD and the audience cheered! The guitarist jumped up from her seat and signaled everyone else to stand up.

 I had the time of my life! The audience looked like it, too! It was my first performance, but in my opinion it was amazing. 

 At the end of my performance, I got a call from my mom. She told me to come home, to her.

 I’ve been living away from her for ten years now. Why would she want me to come to her?

 I hate that woman. As far as I know, she is not my biological mother. And this isn’t some irrational hate I’ve harbored. It is cold, hard hate.

 On my 19th birthday, my dad baked me a cake. It was three-tiered, messy, and overcooked. I loved that cake. It showed my dad’s love for me. 

 My mom walked over to me while everyone was eating the cake. She tried a bit and spat it out. “This is disgusting!” she yelled.

 “No, it’s not. Dad made it special for me. I love it.” My mom couldn’t take a no. She shoved the cake into my face and told me to respect her. She then hit me. 

 Eventually after these events and many more, she kicked me out of the house. I never spoke to her again. I decided to forget she existed. 

 She always called me worthless. I proved her wrong. I made tens of thousands every year. After doing this for ten years, I was a millionaire.

 I didn’t know what my mom wanted from me. But I went to her house nevertheless. 

 When I stepped through the door I was overwhelmed with familiar scents and colors and pictures. I blocked it all out- it was making me happy to be back there.

 “Sandra?” I refused to call her mom.

 “Nadia! You’re back,” Sandra said flatly, as if she wasn’t happy for me to be there. “We need to talk. Sit.” I didn’t sit.

 “I’m your mother. I brought you into this world. I raised you. You are Heartbreaker, correct?” I nodded subtly. “It’s only fair that we share your yearly wages.

 I was taken aback by this. “W-what?” I stuttered.

 “Yes. You need to give me some of your money. Or else I’ll take you to court. I didn’t need a child! Nor to bring one up! You should consider yourself lucky!”

 “You selfish idiot! I’m not giving you my money! I made it! I became a successful singer! If all you wanted was money, if that’s all you care about, then I guess I’ll break your heart.

 “No.”

“But Daddy! You promised!” I cry. “I’m sorry baby. We can go another time,” Daddy murmured in my ear. “Why can’t we go to the amusement park today?” I ask forcefully. Daddy wraps his arms around me and pulls me in tight. In return, I hug him and squeeze. I don’t entirely know why. It feels good though. As I squeeze tighter, he winces. “Are you hurt, Daddy?” Daddy shakes his head as he slips on his coat and hat. “Don’t worry, everything’s fine.” I don’t believe him. As he steps out the door, I grab his wrist. “You’re not okay!” I move his coat out of the way revealing scratches, cuts, and bruises all over his back. “Daddy?” I whisper. That’s when I notice the inner pockets of his coat. At this point, I just take it right off his shoulders. I dig my fingers into the pockets and come out with laser pointers, lock picks, and wire cutters. I bring myself closer to him, careful of his back this time. “Tell me.” The firmness in my voice brings him to tears. “You’re so young… you might just believe it,” Daddy whispers, mainly to himself. He reaches up to his hat and presses a hidden button. The fabric folded down to reveal a bright orange hat and a mask lowered over his face. “Don’t be scared,” Daddy whispered into my ear. He cares about me. I can hear it in his voice. Usually. Now he’s someone I don’t know. Is this really him? Is this really my dad? Does he really care about me? Despite Daddy’s words, I am more scared than I have ever been in my life. I back away from the man I didn’t know, hoping to find myself in the arms of Daddy. The man takes off his mask. He looks like Daddy… and has the same smell as he used to. But he doesn’t feel like Daddy. “I’m going to be late. See you later, baby.” I don’t want him to leave. I want him to stay and explain everything. I want him to be Daddy, not some unknown man. I don’t know who he is, but I know his identity. He’s the Orange Fedora. A superhero who can grapple the highest buildings and fight the toughest criminals. I never met him. I don’t know him. And now I’m supposed to believe that he’s my own father. Daddy watches my face and looks into my eyes as I think about him. He can read all my emotions. Finally, I cry. I sit on the couch and cry. I’m not completely sure why I’m sad. I just know I am. Daddy comes over and hugs me. Then I realize it is Daddy. And not some superhero. Right now he’s my dad. He will always be Daddy, and always the Orange Fedora.

 I love him either way.

My eyes shoot open. I notice hot sweat dripping down my arms and forehead as I climb out of bed. I struggle to remember the dream. “Dear journal,” I write, “my dream this morning was about poison. I was resting on my couch… and it was in my coffee cup. I drank it and went unconscious.” My writing style is nonchalant- I am actually scared out of my wits. In that moment before I woke up, I saw the face of the man who poisoned me. Who it was, I could not remember. He made my coffee. I step into my slippers and cautiously tiptoe down the stairs. My husband greets me with a smile. “More nightmares?” He doesn’t understand. They’re not just nightmares. They actually happen. I can feel it. I sit down on the couch and curl into a ball. My husband rests the coffee cup he made me on the table. I look into his face and get a weird sense of déjà vu. I’ve seen his face millions of times. But I get the weird feeling that I saw him very recently. I rise the coffee to my face and breathe in to smell the bitterness that wakes me up in the morning. Cinnamon. I smell cinnamon. I smelled cinnamon in the dream. I don’t like cinnamon in my coffee. I especially don’t like it when I think it is covering for something. “I think it might be too hot, can you try a sip for me?” I ask. He looked anxious. “Uhm- just wait a little while for it to cool down.” “I don’t want it to get too cold.” “I- I don’t like coffee anymore.” I decide to confront him. “You poisoned my coffee.” “What? You’re just being paranoid.” I didn’t like this at all. “Prove it.” He slowly took the cup from my hand. Too slowly for my liking. He rose it to his lips. The sound of the coffee cup breaking broke my heart. My husband dropped the coffee cup and fled through the door. My eyes shoot open for the second time. The dark room was a slight comfort from my hyper realistic dream. When I went to my psychologist in the afternoon, she told me there’s nothing to worry about. I don’t believe her. I don’t believe her one bit.

The clock struck 12 AM. Then 1 AM. Then 2… I don’t know how long I stood. Unmoving, barely blinking or breathing. Something wasn’t right and I would not move until I knew what is was. It was Halloween night. Something was bound to be wrong. A cold draft blew into my right shoulder. Rain began to spatter me with its cold icy shards. The streets were deserted except for a sewer rat scuttling along my line of view. So I was reasonably surprised when I heard the rustling of fabric against the consistent pounding of the rain on the ground. I started and leapt to my left. Only then did I realize I was freezing beyond my wits. I shivered while looking through the dark screen of rain for the source of the noise. When he stepped forward I was startled. He was a man in a skull mask with a black trench coat and white gloves. It didn’t feel right- but it was Halloween and nothing ever felt right then. I decided to ignore it, that feeling. Never again will I make that mistake.

“You- do you- know who you are?” he said. “No… do you?” she asked. “No. Where are we?” “I don’t really know.” All the two knew is they were trapped. Trapped in plain, cubed, white rooms. There was a wall between them. They couldn’t see each other. Their belongings were gone- though they couldn’t remember if they had any to begin with. A soft tapping sound arose from behind a wall… it calmed them. She called, “Hello?” Nobody. Not a single sound… other than the soft tapping. They sat down backs together through the wall. They sat there for who knows how long… waiting. Waiting for what? They didn’t know. Waiting for the tapping to change… waiting for someone to come… waiting for something to change… waiting to know they weren’t alone. “Are we alone?” He spoke both their thoughts. Neither was sure. He decided to stand up and put his ear to the wall. The tapping continued. She stood up and put her ear to the wall as well. She gasped. “It’s not tapping!” He had realized too. It was a sort of muffled beeping. “I wonder…” he muttered. It was like they could read the others’ mind, for they both, at the same time, pushed the wall. They pushed hard. Unfortunately, the wall wasn’t meant to be pushed. The wall wouldn’t break or come down. They tried pushing all the walls- none fell. Suddenly his room was turned into a maze. And as if it was a peculiar type of elevator, it suddenly sank and moved to the left. It darkened quickly. She noticed him underneath her as her floor turned to glass. “It’s a puzzle!” she gasped happily. “I’ve got to tell you where to go!” She walked across the room, and slowly but surely found a path through to an area with a light and a button. “What?” he said, surprised. “Is something the matter?” she asked. “I know the path…” “How?” “I don’t know, I just saw it!” And effortlessly he walked between the walls and found his way in under a minute. “I- well go on, press it.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” She was, somehow. He pressed down on the button. It shined as the yellow light reflected his face. He looked up and saw her face for the first time- actually, neither could remember if they knew one another. Maybe it wasn’t the first time… He was lifted up to her room on a platform that rose out of the floor. They hugged. It only felt like the right thing to do. Suddenly the wall in front of them fell and revealed a smiling screen. “Welcome. “You have been accepted. You won’t have names- you’ll be field agents. I was tracking your every move. You have good minds- better than normal, if you know what I mean.” “No, I don’t, sorry…” he said. “Telepathy. You can read one another’s minds.” Both gasped. “Walk through to the next room.” They noticed a wide arch and a thin opening. “Where?” she asked. But the screen had already switched off. “Do we separate?” she asked curiously. “No. We just found each other- we can’t be separated.” They hooked arms and stepped towards the doors…