Scars [Book 1]✅

Two

"I don't know what to do, Robin," his mother muttered, sinking into her husband's embrace.

"I already flushed all the razors and hid the knives and such. There's not much we can do unless you feel he needs therapy," Robin told her, rubbing her arm soothingly. Though she shook her head.

"No, no therapy. He would never agree to that. It wouldn't help him either, he wouldn't let it help," she sighed.

"That's what I thought. C'mon, I'll keep an eye on him, but you need to head off for work," he told his wife, and she nodded, grabbing her bag. She took one last look at her sleeping son before exiting the house. Harry had only pretended to be sleeping so that his mother wouldn't fuss over him.

Harry reached over, turning his lamp on one, two, three times to it's highest. He squinted his eyes at the light, rubbing both eyes, and climbed out of his bed, putting on the outfit his mum must have had set out on the end of his bed the night before. He slid on the black jeans and dark red jumper, labeled with his sisters old college name, Manchester University. He pushed his feet into his old white converse that his mum had just gratefully cleaned the weekend before, grimacing at the size of his feet.

He attempted to tame his curls and sighed, walking down the stairs, counting each one and skipping the bottom step, just like he did everyday. He wandered into the kitchen, trying not to look at Robin after hearing his parents conversation, but Robin obviously didn't get the memo. "What're you doing up so early? I didn't think you were going to school today," Robin greeted him, tossing him a breakfast bar. Harry nearly dropped it, catching it with his sleeves, not wanting to touch the greasy plastic wrapper, and stared confusedly at his stepfather.

"I-I want t-to, I like s-school," he lied, turning his gaze to the ground. In all honesty he didn't even want to leave the house. But he had to. He couldn't stay home with his stepfather, knowing the man knew of what he did.

"Oh, okay. Well, get your things for classes and I'll drive," Harry did as he was told and gathered his empty backpack, "eat a bit," Robin gestured to the bar, and Harry opened it cautiously as Robin went on a search for his keys and left the room. That was when Harry quickly dropped the untouched bar into the trash can, disgusted by it.

Good boy, that would only make you fatter than you already are

Harry gulped, hearing the voice, and followed his stepfather out to the car, closing the front door before getting into the passenger seat. The drive felt long, sitting in an awkward silence. Harry had never been very close to his stepfather. But they finally arrived, and Harry got out of the car, quickly entering the school.

His father didn't know that Harry hadn't even visited the new school, and assumed he knew his way. His mother was suppose to come with him to help get him settled and make sure the secretary had someone there to show him around. That didn't happen, however, since she thought he was staying home. And in reality Harry didn't even know where the office was until he roamed the halls for a good five minutes. But he didn't want to say anything to his stepfather.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

"You sure you're okay? Do you need someone to show you around?" the secretary asked Harry after handing him his schedule. Though he shook his head, and she sent a kind smile before he left the room, into the sea of students. He had been stuck inside the stuffy little office for at least three periods, because it was already lunch time for him by the time he got out. And he didn't even know where his locker was yet.

He went for a search, and for fifteen minutes he went wandering around until he found locker 4228. He put the numbers in, fumbling with the dial so that he messed up twice before getting it right. He sighed, stuffing his things in, but keeping his book and phone with him.

He kept his head down as he walked, avoiding eye contact with anyone, and continued to search for the library.

He was thinking of so many things, like how Liam was doing without him, or how much his mother was probably worrying, like always, and even what the strangers that roamed the halls thought of him. In fact, he was so caught up in his thoughts, that he hadn't noticed the boy walking past him, and walked straight into him.

He stumbled backwards, falling onto his bum, and gasped, looking up with a bit of fear in his eyes. Because the only time he made contact with people was with Liam, his family, or his bully, Marcus, who found every reason to hurt him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated, taking a scoot back from the student. And he looked up, his eyes widening at the boy with black skinnies and a muscle shirt on under his jean jacket.

"Hey, it's fine," he chuckled, reaching his hand out. Though Harry avoided it, pulling himself up on his own. "Say, you looked a bit lost when I saw you earlier, and I figured you were new," the boy said, and Harry was surprised that he had noticed him earlier. "You look lost now, too. Do you need any directions?" he asked. Harry clutched his book tighter in fear, and shook his head, biting his lip. The boy nodded, "Alright, well, don't be afraid to ask if you do," he smiled, and patted Harry's shoulder. He flinched at the contact, but kept walking.

It wasn't until Harry looked up again that he noticed two new boys walking beside him. Though they weren't at his side anymore when the one suddenly shoved him to the side, against the wall. Harry yelped, tears building up inside of him.

"So, Sam, what do you suppose we do with this little newbie, huh?" asked the one boy with a chuckle, his hair dark, and eyes dark as well, making him look more intimidating. "Recognized you right away, Styles. My friend Marcus from your old school told us all about you. Told us to take care of you," he chuckled seeming amused.

"Don't suppose we could give him a bit of our welcome to the school, huh, Zayn?" the other boy shrugged with a smirk.

Let them hurt you

It's for your own good

You deserve it

Harry tried not to listen to the voices in his head, but failed. He noticed how much shorter the other boy was than himself, yet Harry couldn't bring up the courage to do anything about it. Because he thought the voices were right. They're always right.

The raven haired boy smirked, and shrugged throwing an easy punch to Harry's gut, making him groan and hunch over, clutching his stomach. He felt a hard stinging sensation to his cheek, and knew he slapped him. "Get up!" he growled.

"P-Please, s-stop," Harry begged, tears coming to his eyes. The boy took his arm, making Harry grimace, and his sleeve fell down his arm, showing his marks.

The boys stared at his arm nervously, seeing all the marks, while Harry silently let tears roll down his face. "Freak," the shorter boy said after a while, and threw an easy punch to Harry's jaw. The force of the punch pushed him against the lockers, and he crumpled to the ground.

Freak

Mutant

Queer

Faggot

That's what you are Harry, you're disgusting, just cry it out like the stupid baby you are

Harry groaned, holding his ears to block out the voice in his head. He didn't think that anyone had seen what just happened, but unfortunately for him, there was one who did.