I'm not sure what I expected when I told Val the truth about my family, but she responded in the absolute best way. There I was, sobbing on the sofa and practically shaking as I told her the truth about why I had let Danielle, aka - psycho central, ruin my life for the past six months, and Val simply rushed over to me and threw her arms around me.

She didn't demand an explanation or pepper me with questions. She didn't judge me for withholding my family's secret. She simply held me while I cried.

Eventually, I started babbling out incoherent sentences - mostly apologies - until I was finally able to form a thought. It was as if the floodgates had been open wide, the pressure that I'd been holding inside of me as it continued to build finally released, and Val listened patiently while I let it all out.

It made the most sense to start from the beginning, to open up and tell her all of the things I kept so perfectly hidden when we first met. My parents were born and raised in Venezuela, and I was very proud of my Venezuelan heritage. They started a family fairly young, and - by the time my sister was six - they were struggling to make ends meet. My uncle owned a company in Austin, and - after a lengthy visa application process - they were granted permission to move to the States. I was three when my parents became U.S. citizens, and I remember it vividly. My dad was so proud. He wanted more for us, more than we had available to us back in Venezuela. As U.S. citizens, he would always tell me that we could do anything.

"Dreams come true, cariña," he'd say as he tucked me into bed. "I got mine - my family and my freedom - and now you can have yours. Anything you want."

Unfortunately, even though they were citizens, my family still dealt with racism on a near-daily basis. We lived in a predominately Latinx community, but - being bilingual - we were called every name under the book. White kids in my school asked if my parents were illegal immigrants, told me to go back to Mexico - horrible things said by ignorant children.

My dad always taught me to ignore the bullies and focus on the positives. It wasn't until my mom got sick, however, that the idyllic life I'd grown up in fell into the shadows. My dad's three part-time jobs didn't offer insurance, and no company would cover my mom thanks to her cancer. "Pre-existing condition," they called it, practically signing her death warrant. As it turns out, we were lucky enough to have enough money to afford the diagnosis, but it completely depleted our savings.

My mom insisted that she didn't want treatment, that she wanted to let God's will take its path in her life, but - after an argument with my father about it - I found out the truth. We couldn't afford it. We couldn't afford anything. I blamed my father for it at first, blinded by the grief swallowing me every second of every day, because I wanted him to do more - do anything - to help my mother. He took an extra job, my sister dropped out of community college to start working, but cancer treatment eats a hole through your bank account as fast as it rips a hole in your life. Desperate, he turned to extreme measures.

I didn't know it at the time, but there was a man in my neighborhood who lived a few blocks from my house and was known for getting on the wrong side of the police a few times. Frank had been in and out of prison, and - as luck would have it - he was in need of some 'help' for a job. It promised more money than we could make in a month, so my dad volunteered. He signed away his conscience in a last-ditch effort to keep my family together.

What he didn't realize was that it would drive my family apart. My mom died two weeks after he signed up with Frank, but he was already in too deep. Debt from her medical care and funeral made it impossible to stay afloat, so he stuck with it. I think he felt guilty about everything, about losing the love of his life, and he thought he was making it up to us.

After a routine deal went south, however, a few innocent bystanders were caught in the crossfire. Two people were killed, including a fifteen-year-old kid, leaving the cops on the lookout for the men behind their deaths. Even though my dad swears he wasn't the one who pulled a trigger - he didn't even have a gun - Frank said otherwise. He claimed he has witnesses to back him up, and - after my dad said he wanted to go to the police - Frank threatened to have him silenced.

Permanently.

When we heard the news, my dad pulled my sister and I into the kitchen to talk about Frank. He made us promise not to say anything about him working with him, even urging us to lie to the police if they stopped by. We didn't realize that things had gotten so bad, but my dad told us otherwise. The police couldn't find enough evidence to pin it on him, and - with Frank's threats - we knew he couldn't step forward.

Two weeks later, I pulled out of college and made plans to move to New York. I was furious with my father - livid that he could do this to my siblings, that he could do this to me - and I wanted nothing to do with him. If he wanted me to lie for him, fine, I'd do what I had to do, but that didn't mean I could stand to see him anymore. 

Moving made sense at the time. I needed an escape from everything back home. Austin was filled to the brim with memories of my mother, from the donuts at Gourdough's to Torchy's street corn. She introduced me to so many wonderful things in the city - many of them food related - and I could feel her shadow follow me with every step I made around town. I couldn't take it anymore. I felt her loss so acutely, and my anger toward my father, unfortunately, filled the void. While the police continued their investigation, I packed my bags and fled the state. Nothing could convince me to stay - not even my little brother - and I refused to look back.

When I arrived, I decided it would be safest to keep everyone I met in New York at arm's length. I didn't want to risk the same sort of pain I'd suffered after my mother's death, but I also hated how angry I was with my father. In some deluded way, I felt that - if I didn't let anyone in - I wouldn't have to deal with that kind of loss or disappointment ever again.

Then Danielle discovered the truth about my family, and it felt like she ripped the wounds open all over again. I don't know how she found out - if I'm honest, I don't really care - but she definitely wasn't afraid to use it against me.

I explained to Val everything Danielle did to manipulate me, how she told me that I needed to help her get Andrew for herself, and she listened in horror to all of it. Danielle had planned out every last detail, starting with the job at Starbucks. She decided it would be easiest for me to introduce her to Andrew if we were colleagues, especially since it would be strange for us to suddenly be friends, so I was forced to hint at Peter during interviews that Danielle would be the best choice.

After she was hired, she spent her time observing me and mimicking everything about me. That was one of the most disturbing parts. Instead of trying to get Andrew for herself, Danielle decided that the best way to win him was to become more like me. A few days after we started working together, she showed up at Starbucks sporting a brand new hairstyle and color - matching my own - and her bootleg jeans were replaced with skinny jeans and sweaters that mimicked the ones I favored. Every day, the similarities became more and more uncanny, until she started talking to Val about "helping" me and Andrew get back together.

I'd already stopped talking to him, at her request, but it was easy for her to convince Val that I was miserable without him and, as my best friend, she should intervene. Val, unaware of what was going on, was more than happy to coordinate, and she invited Andrew and his friends to the bar where I would launch myself, drunkenly, on Dylan.

I knew that Danielle would make her move on Andrew that night, especially since I could see the disappointment etched on his features after I kissed Dylan, and I found myself drinking even more to cope with the guilt. A few days after we met at the bar, she managed to invite him out for coffee - or so I heard - and the rest was history.

She crafted herself into a warped version of me, opting to inhabit a false persona to lure Andrew to her instead of being herself, which only made the entire situation worse. I knew what she was doing - I watched it happen - and I hated every second of it. The more I learned about Andrew, the more I liked him, and I couldn't stand knowing that she had manipulated her way into his life - twisting the truth as it suited her - because of me.

All of it, because of me.

I still didn't know why I was her target, what I did to deserve this, but it killed me every single day to watch it happen. Especially now that she started threatening me again, now - after I've sacrificed so much - there's a chance I could lose it all.

I wasn't going to let that happen. I couldn't let that happen.

"Have you talked to the police?" Val asked, handing me a glass of water after I'd finished telling her everything. "It's extortion, isn't it? It can't be legal."

"It isn't, but what am I supposed to do about it?" I asked her. "If I tell the police, she'll tell them the truth about my family."

Val frowned, "And you think they'll believe her? What can police in New York even do about a criminal case in Texas?"

"It's not them I'm worried about, Val," I reminded her. "It's Frank. If word gets out about him and my dad, who knows what he'll do? I might be angry with my dad, but I don't want him to die because he got caught up with the wrong people." 

"You can't keep living like this, Cait," she said softly. "After everything that's happened, you deserve better. You deserve to be happy."

I tried to smile, grateful to have such a wonderful friend in my life. I'd known Val for less than a year, and I'd spent the last six months avoiding her questions, but she was still one of the best friends I'd ever had. She listened to me without judgment, offered support in all things, and she genuinely cared about my screwed up life.

"I don't know what to do," I sighed.

Val squeezed my hand reassuringly, "We'll figure it out. I promise."

"It's just not fair, you know?" I said, getting a nod from Val. "After everything that happened to me in Texas, and now this. Honestly, it wouldn't be so bad if I was the only person affected, but I'm not. My dad, my sister, my brother...Andrew...they're all the victims here, and none of them even know that it's happening. That's bullshit."

She sighed, "Have you told them? Your family?"

"No," I admitted. "After how I left everything, I didn't want to add to it. They've got enough to worry about right now."

"That doesn't mean this is your responsibility, Cait," Val replied. "You don't have to make this sacrifice for them, especially since you don't even know what would happen. This could all be part of Danielle's lies."

I knew she was right. I knew exactly what my sister would say if I told her. She'd tell me to "flip that bitch the bird" and live life for myself. Growing up, Adriana was my best friend and biggest cheerleader. Always enthusiastic and filled with joy, she was the big sister every kid dreamed of having. She took me out for ice cream with her tip money, played dress up with me whenever I pleased, and taught me that love was worth fighting for.

"It's not about what you see in the movies," Adriana always told me. "It's about finding your best friend. That one person who knows exactly how to make you smile and when you need it the most. Forget butterflies and a 'spark', princesa, love is hard work. It'll break your heart into tiny little pieces, but the right person will help you carry them and keep them safe. It's worth it. I promise."

She wouldn't want me to do this for her, for them. She would tell me that Gabriel, my little brother, deserved the chance at a future, but that didn't mean I needed to sacrifice mine for him. Not when he would be fine, no matter what. My father's decisions were not my responsibility, but his life would forever be on my conscience if Danielle did what she claimed.

I couldn't risk it. They'd done so much for me - especially after my mom died and I lashed out at my father - and I believed it was my turn. I needed to protect him. To protect all of them.

But Val was right. That didn't mean I needed to let Danielle win.