Giving Up

Chapter 1

I am feeling dissonant, and distracted
The toxic chemicals are spilling in my head and they're bleeding deadly reactions

And as the moon begins to rise he shows me all the colors that I'm hiding I'm hiding myself

What I wouldn't give just to forget
What I wouldn't give to get some rest
So I can remember how to live again
I wanna live again

-What I wouldn't give

-Holly Brook

If you were to ask anyone in my school, they would have said that Libby Daniel's was a soccer freak. That she was slightly pretty, nothing special, but all she cared about was soccer. It would always come down to soccer. Soccer. Soccer. Soccer.

What I wouldn't give to throw away my soccer skills. What I wouldn't give for everyone to give me a second chance. What I wouldn't give to have people get to know me before judging me. What I wouldn't give to patch up my broken family. What I wouldn't give to make my parents love each other again. Because right now, they're marriage was hanging on a thread, their only connection lay in me, and I couldn't take the pressure. Their only connection was simple. Libby must succeed in soccer, and we will do anything and everything in our power to give her those opportunities. But they never asked me what I thought about soccer. And I would never tell anyone this, but I hated soccer with a passion. I despised it. Deep down in my heart, though, I would always need to play soccer. For reasons that escaped me. Soccer was just part of my life. If I stopped playing, a part of me would leave. And I couldn't do that. What I wouldn't give to erase soccer from my life. Because it was slowly destroying my life, and the people in it and surrounding me.

The shrill beeping of my alarm clock brought me out of my deep sleep, and I popped up immediately, knowing that if I wasn't outside at exactly seven fifteen, my brothers would murder me.

I raised my arms, hearing some cracking noises. I cringed slightly, before jumping out of bed and lunging for the bathroom door after tripping on an old sneaker. I knocked on the door, seeing a beam of light through the crack in the bottom. Grrr...Someone was in my bathroom again. I hated when people used my bathroom.

"What?" came a distressed voice.


I was blessed with three older brothers. Part of that was sarcastic, and the other part was truthful. My brother's were always there when I needed them, and we had this sibling sense, knowing when one of us needed help. The sarcastic part was the fact that they were annoying and rowdy. And bigger then me, which bothered me.

Ryan and Taylor were seniors in my high school, and eighteen. They were both incredibly popular, Ryan playing on the boy's varsity soccer team and Taylor playing varsity ice-hockey and tennis. Weird combination if you asked me.

Then there was Eddie, who was seventeen and a junior in high school. He was also popular, being on the varsity basketball team. But all of my brothers were popular because of the fact that girl's worshipped them for their supposed good-looks. I however, was completely oblivious to any good-traits that they possessed. Of course, was I supposed to be aware of my brother's good-looks?

The main problem with my brother's was that they were over-protective. Extremely over-protective. Physical male-contact was a big no-no.

Moving on from my brother's, I was Libby Daniel's. The girl that never dated, (due to her intimidating and terrifying brothers) the girl that never talked about anything but soccer, (which was totally not true) and the girl that was slightly pretty, but no boy would ever want to date.

After realizing that the bathroom would not be mine anytime soon, I pulled on some soccer shorts and a random orange t-shirt that advertised for some marathon my mom had once run.

Once I was ready, I headed down into the kitchen, finding two of my brother's there. Taylor and Eddie looked exhausted.

"Yo," Eddie muttered.

I just shook my head. "It's hello, Eddie, not 'yo'."

"Well, I'm sorry," Eddie said sarcastically, as some milk dribbled down his chin.

"You should be..."

After about five minutes, my dad walked in.

"You've got a soccer game today, right?" he asked. I nodded, knowing what was coming. "You have to play well. I mean, I know you're not very good, but you need to have extra curricular activities for college.

Feeling like I can't forgive, but I want to.

I wanted to forgive him for being so horrible to me. I wanted him to forgive me for whatever I did to him that made him act so horrible towards me. All my dad cared about was college. Nothing else. He didn't even know that I was only a sophomore, and I was already the best on the varsity soccer team. He hadn't come to one of my soccer games. Ever. And I had been playing soccer my whole life. Not one soccer game had ever featured an excited and encouraging Dad on the sidelines shouting my name and cheering for me. My mom rarely appeared as well. But my mom was a different story.

It's like I don't know how to live, I'm afraid to.

I didn't know how to live like a normal teenager. I was supposed to have a lot of friends and love to party. Or think about boys a lot. I did none of those. I knew it was because of my parents. I was terrified of what they would do if I didn't do everything they wanted me to do. If I didn't practice hard at soccer, I was sure they would murder me. If I didn't get A plus's in every subject, they'd roll in the guillotine.

I used to think take them as they come, without hesitations, no.

I took my orders as they came. I never hesitated, and I knew, deep down, that giving in to my parents every command was wrong. It was what I shouldn't have been doing. I had told my brother's that I didn't give into their commands any longer, but I lied just to keep my brother's out of it. I did let myself get ordered around by my parents.

Now it's like my head is filled with lies, and persuasions.

My head was filled with the lies that my parents told me. The lies that all the hard work I did would eventually pay off. That I would get a scholarship to the college of my choice. That I would get everything I ever wanted. They were persuasive. And I fell into their trap.

"Libby! I have been yelling at you for five minutes!" Ryan shouted.

"When'd you get here?" I asked dumbly, spooning another spoonful of cereal into my mouth.

Ryan shook his head, grabbed my waist, lifted me over his shoulder, and carried me outside, while I screamed and shouted all the way. He then dropped me in front of the car.

"Get in," he said simply.

I glared at him. "I'm going to need my back-pack, smart one."

"I put it in the trunk, smart one," he replied. "Now get in! I don't want to be late!"

I slid into the seat next to Eddie, who had fallen asleep. I grinned, before smacking him over the head.

When he figured out it was me who smacked him, let's just say the car ride to school was not pleasant.

Authors Note: My other penname on fictionpress is bex17, and I won't be stopping all my stories on that name. I just wanted to start this one because I feel like I can't have too many stories on one of my pennames...So yeah. Every chapter in this story will feature song lyrics, and those lines in the story that were in bold and italic were part of the song too...The songs will usually have to do with the chapter, and every song I put in this story, I recommend you to listen to. If you want to listen to this song go to myspace music and the artist's name is Holly Brook. The song is absolutely beautiful. So listen to it! Thanks for reviewing if you have!