12 Scars Mga Nobela at Kwento

" The only sound left in the room was the steady ticking of the machines. I turned away and carefully put the irises into the vase by Mom's bed. He stood up slowly, quietly. "Remember to put ointment on your knee when you get home. It's scraped." The door closed softly behind him. I thought I heard a muffled sob. However, maybe it was just my imagination. Back home, my daughter gently put ointment on my knee. I patted her head, turned on the computer, and started writing a new post. Title: [About Camila and the Road I Took.] She should have known I would not let it go if she exposed me.

The moon had long since set, but Aria could not sleep. She sat curled on the edge of her bed, knees pressed tight to her chest, the shadows of the room pressing in on her like a cage. Her gaze never left the seared mark on her wrist. It pulsed faintly under the torchlight, its glow soft but unyielding, mocking her with every heartbeat. Her nails had scratched the skin raw. She had tried again and again to scrape it away, to draw blood until nothing remained but torn flesh. Yet no matter how much she clawed, the mark endured bright, damning, cruel.

Her clothes were torn and there were claw marks and bite wounds all over her, the worst of which was a claw mark that traveled from her left collarbone to her right hip. Luckily it didn’t appear too deep, and someone had soaked it with a herb poultice, as if to help it heal. " I will help you." Scar said as she muttered some words placing her hand on the wound , she looked at it but her chants weren't doing justice. She repeated again and again before Hazel told her to stop

He started patting my back gently and I soon relaxed into his hold. I breathed in his scent and it sort of calmed my raging and turbulent soul. All the confusion I felt earlier began to dissipate and I leaned into his hold. "Nathan?" I called against his chest. "Yes, my Luna," he answered. "I thought getting healed from the scars on my body was going to put an end to my problems," I began. Nathan moved his hands into my hair and began to play with it by running his fingers through it. "I had no idea that the scars only changed their original position. . ." I trailed. "From my skin to my soul," I muttered. "And every day, it gets worse. . ." I went on.

"No way! I saw her sell her kidneys. She still has the scar. Your skills must be off. Get someone else." The doctor slammed the chart down on the desk, his anger barely contained behind his mask. "I've been a doctor for 50 years. I can tell a missing kidney by touch," he said. "I'd stake my career on it. The patient has both kidneys. That scar you mentioned? Just from an appendectomy. If you don't believe me, I can run tests right now." His words hit like a hammer. Andre eyed Natalie suspiciously, but before he could speak, she turned pale, grabbing his hand. "This hospital is messed up. I want a transfer."

Scar whispers, pulling at his hair and making his way into the bathroom attached to his tiny room, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Scar's hair just wasn't satisfying his urge to feel something. He was disappointed in himself, he was acting like a reckless teenager and the worst of it was he didn't even know how old she was! What if she were a minor? What if Scar was thinking these unholy thoughts about a teenager? Scar clawed at his wrists breaking the skin on them once again. He grunted and moaned out in pain. Scar felt good, it felt good when he felt something - even if that something was pain. Scar could feel the tears running down his face, he had officially lost it... again.

Flora was contemplating. She was aware that if she let the guide help her apply the sunscreen lotions on her back, he would see the ugly scar she had from a flat iron Lambert had once pressed on her. It had been years, but the scar it left would still be visible. It hurt like hell during those times as she had no one to help her. She couldn't reach the spot with her hands to apply meds on it, so the scar it left was quite noticeable with the shape of a flat iron that the edges of the scar now have fibrous connective tissues. With the healthy pink skin tone that Flora has, the scar was visible and easy to identify what caused the burn.

I explained. I touched my side. I have no idea which one of them got me but one of them did. I have a three or four inch scar down my right side now from them. Wolves don’t normally scar and if we do silver is normally involved, but their fucking claws left a scar. I know they did not have silver tipped claws because the wound never burnt like silver would have. I am not sure why the wound scared.

She had grown into a breathtaking woman, more stunning than even he could have imagined her. And he had done just that. For years after he did what he did, he had kept away from her, while simultaneously fighting the urge to see her again. Curiosity was a painful thing to endure, and he kept wondering what she would look like now, and whether anything would change over the years. Time healed all wounds, and he had hoped that the scar he left on her would have healed by then. Wounds heal, but scars remain with us for life. "Look at you," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "You look even more beautiful than I remember."

I memorise a freckle above his left nipple. My fingers trace my bite that’s left two crescent moon scars on his lower ribs. I study him like I’m going to take a test on every detail, I notice faint scars over his shoulders and chest. I can only guess wolf claws… It’s one of two things we don’t fully heal from. Claws and teeth.