The Hidden Camera

Prologue

Harry's POV

I just finished singing on stage and as the boys were bantering, I let a tear slip as I stared down at my phone. Seeing her harm herself and cry so loudly without anyone helping her, was pure torture. Not only for her, but for me too.

Aria's POV

I sliced into my wrist once again, a tear followed by many more, sliding down my face. I looked up at all my posters in my room, and then at the one which stood out the most for some reason I don't know. My Harry Styles poster.
I always felt like there was something different about it, unique maybe. It wasn't the only print of it, it didn't have anyone else. Only Harry.
I wrapped my arm in an old t-shirt, and wiped the tears with the back of my hand. I wasn't surprised nobody asked me what was wrong when I walked in the door sobbing and ran straight to my room.
I laid down on my bed, sighing.
"I cannot wait until my first year of college is done," I thought to myself. I live at home with my parents because their house, just so happens to be on campus of the college I'm at. And it is a lot cheaper, not only for them, but me too, to stay home than get a loan for a dorm or something.
When this semester is over, I plan on moving to London from where I live now in America, and work part-time until I get enough money to add on to my bundle of cash that will go to London University.
I turned to my side and closed my eyes, thinking of all the things that happened that day.
Got bullied. Check. Got sexually harassed. Check. Told the DA. Check. DA told me not to wear a t-shirt and capri's If I didn't want to be approached. Check.
"Dinner!" My mom's aggravating voice yelled through the whole house.
I got up and tore the shirt off my arm, looking at my scars.
I looked up and put my arm to my side, running to go get my dinner.
I got to the kitchen and made my plate, and turned around heading for the the stairs again. My parents and I never eat at the table or together even, just in our own rooms.
Most nights I don't even eat what my parents make, I just make grilled cheese, a hot pocket or Ramen noodles. If I can even muster the strength to cook. I choose not to eat their food because 95% of the time, they make something so gross, so good that eating it is just asking for a heart attack, or something that I don't eat, like chicken.
I sat down at my desk, and went online. I started eating my manicotti, and looked on tumblr.