Who Are You?

Chapter 1

Liam's POV

It burns. The pain seers through my muscles, and I don't know how much longer I can take it. But I keep going. I always keep going.

In a way, lifting weights represents my life. It hurts me to keep up the act I'm keeping up, but I keep going. To please everyone around me. To please my mom, to please my dad, to please my coach, to please everyone.

My heart beats to please people.

It's not like I have a choice in what I do anyways. If I don't keep acting like I love what I do, my dad won't see me the same. Won't love me the same.

I push out another 20 bench presses and sit up, sweat dripping from my face. I grab the towel hanging off the bar next to my press, and I wipe my face.

When I stand up my vision starts to go black. I quickly grab the bar the towel was resting on as my head starts to pound. It's happening again.

I pushed myself too hard. I always do. When I work out, all I can hear is my dad's voice bouncing through my head. Telling me to keep going, to keep lifting the bar above my head, even though it hurts. Because he won't love me if I don't. But it's ok, because I live my life to please people.

As my vision slowly returns, I ease off the bar. Quickly grabbing the shirt I so carelessly threw to the side before my workout, I spring up the stairs and out of my basement.

Immediately, the smell of steak fills my nose, making my mouth water.

"Mmmm, smells great mum," I say, planting a kiss on my mother's cheek. I respect my mother, because she, like me, lives to please people. Always making sure my dad is happy. Always doing everything she can to keep his pressure off of me.

She smiles and turns to mash the potatoes sitting on the counter.

"Thank you, Liam. Did you have a nice workout?" she says.

"Yeah it was alright. Here let me help you out," I say, gently moving her to the side and starting to mash the potatoes for her.

She smiles at me. I love getting approval from my mum. It hardly ever comes from dad, so it's nice to know someone loves me. This is affirmed when she begins to rub my back while I mash.

"You're doing great my love. Thanks so much for your help. You know dad wants dinner as soon as he comes home," she says returning to the steaks.

I nod. "Yeah mum, I know," I say sprinkling salt into the potatoes. "Was work alright?" I ask.

"It was ok. I had to skip lunch to go pick up your new uniform though," she smiles.

I hate when she sacrifices her time for my football.

"You didn't have to do that. I could've picked it up after school." I sigh.

"No, no it's fine baby. Your uniform is on the table. It looks great!" she smiles as she puts some corn in a pot.

"Yeah, sure does," I say walking over to the table.

I frown as I run my fingers over the material. This will be the shirt that imprisons me for a whole year. I will live ninety-eight percent of this year in this shirt. But I do it for my dad. Because he won't love me the same if I don't.

"Hey mum," I call back, "I'm gonna head up to my room and shower before dinner ok?" I say rubbing sweat from the back of my neck.

"That's fine sweetie! I'll call you down for dinner!" she replies.

I take the steps two at a time, and quickly open my door, shutting it behind me, turning the lock. I walk into my personal bathroom, and shut the door, making sure to lock it as well.

When I lock those doors, it's like locking away reality. This is my time to escape the harsh, cold world. This is my time to be who I really am.

As I step into the hot water, steam starts to fill the room. I gently massage shampoo into my hair, and before I know what happens, I start to sing.

It's only a soft murmur, so my parents don't hear. But it's something.

Slowly, the tune of 'Stay With Me' by Sam Smith fills the room.

I lose myself in the song, and it's almost as if my other personality washes down the drain. The person my dad wants me to be, forces me to be, is gone for these few, short minutes.

But it ends. It always ends.

I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist. I look at myself in the somewhat foggy mirror.

My eyes begin to pool with tears, and my hand slowly stretches out to touch the reflective surface.

"What have I become?" I whisper to myself as my fingers touch my reflection.

I cringe and quickly look away, before the tears run down my cheeks.

As I unlock my two layers of protection, my mum calls my name.

"Liam! Dinner's ready!" she calls from downstairs.

"Coming mum!" I reply, and quickly grab some gym shorts from my drawer, letting them hang low on my hips.

I open the door, not bothering to grab a shirt and go downstairs.

When I look at the table, my father is sitting at the table.

"Hey dad," I say, helping mum brings plates to the table.

"Liam, don't do that. Sit down. Your mother will get it." he says taking his coat off.

He folds it over his arm, and sticks his arm out to the side. He looks up at my mum expectantly and she sighs.

"Coming dear," she says, placing the plates on the table. She then hurries over to him and takes his coat, placing it on the rack by the door.

She then sits down next to my father and starts to pass out steaks.

This is my life. The one I wish I didn't live.