Boy meets girl, girl falls in love, blah-blah-blah.
Let me be clear with you from the beginning. This is not that kind of story.
My name is Cait, and I live in the great city of New York. Okay, so maybe I've only lived here for a week and a half...
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There are times in your life when you're forced to make tough choices. What to do next, where to go, what's best for the future...even if it sucks right now. It's strictly a gamble, especially when we can't see into the future, meaning you take this pain without knowing it'll matter in the future. Will the things we're worried about happen? Will this precaution even matter? Is this decision truly the best option? Or is there another way?
For me, that was the worst part. The not knowing.
I'd taken on someone else's burden, someone else's secret, as my own, and I was letting it destroy my life. I couldn't even feel sorry for myself because it wasn't like I had to do this. I didn't. I could've said, 'Shove it,' and lived a very happy life. I could've learned to get past the guilt, eating away at me every single day, and forgotten all about it. But no, someone handed me a match and asked me to set myself on fire. I should've laughed in her face, but instead I doused myself with gasoline and endured the flames.
Six months had passed, and here I was. Charred to a crisp, my world turned to ash, and everything I touched burned along with me. My relationships, my job, my future education. My roommate barely spoke to me, my boss was about to fire me, and I didn't have the scholarships needed to start school in January. The summer passed in a flash, and - while everything green and bright died around me - my hope for the future withered.
After what happened, after that bitch blackmailed me, everything went to hell in a handbasket. Andrew returned from his trip to Los Angeles expecting to find a happy Cait waiting for him, but instead I was a bundle of nervous energy 24/7. The walls I'd started to lower around my heart went back up, with reinforcements, and I distanced myself from him. Dinner plans were consistently canceled, texts ignored, until - eventually - he stopped trying.
Val did her best to coordinate things. She contacted Andrew and invited him out with our friends, but I did everything I could to avoid him. Alcohol became my best friend, and I depended on it to keep the mask of happiness glued to my face. Socially, I was fun and carefree. After I turned 21, a penchant for margaritas turned into the need for something stronger, so vodka filled the void. It made me happy, bubbly, and energetic once more, and everyone pretended that it was all okay. Even Andrew continued meeting up with us, but - like a moth to the flame - eventually everyone got burned.
One particular night out, we were joined by several friends. Andrew brought some of his friends and cast members - including Val's dream man, Dylan O'Brien - and we dragged several of our work friends with us. Roxanne and Anastasia joined us, along with some of our friends from work. Sariah and Lilly brought one of the new employees, Danielle, and we all met at one of the best dive bars in our area. We arrived first, so I quickly convinced Val, Roxanne, and Anastasia to join me in a round of shots at the bar. While they hunted for a table, I asked the bartender for a double shot of vodka - tossing it back with a grimace - before grabbing a beer and taking back to the table to join my friends. By the time everyone else showed up, I was completely hammered and less-than-lucid. The more intoxicated I became, the louder I laughed. My brokenness was hidden behind a shot glass, and - while I pretended to have the time of my life - I felt like I was suffocating.
