Broken Beauty Novels & Stories

If he is her mate, then he would surely reject them seeing how ruined and disgusting she was. “Alice! Don't say that. The scars mean nothing. He is meant for us.” Lenore snapped at her. “Alice yelled out loud; as she slammed her fist into the mirror. The glass cracked and shattered but held inside the mirror frame. She looked at the mirror surprised that she had hit it. Surprised that it was still intact. She looked at the mirror and hated it. The mirror was broken but still together. It could never be fixed but it was still together. She gritted her teeth, becoming more and more angry. She was the mirror, damaged, broken, ugly, and never being completely shattered but never being able to be

Most of her scars had faded with time but some of them were still slightly pink. Bridgette stood there with shame flooding through her body. Kane hadn’t said a word at all. No gasps of horror at the sight of her body. She couldn’t bring herself to see the look of horror on his face. She knew what he was seeing. He was seeing just how broken she really was. She knew that deep down no one would ever be able to love her because her brokenness was all consuming. Before she could register what was happening a warm rough hand was tracing the scars on her body. She flinched at his touch and closed her eyes. Tears slipped past her lids as she trembled beneath his touch.

Her mouth was slightly open, and her wide, dilated eyes reflected the overhead light, making them look like two polished stones. The woman who always wore a mask of pristine control, whose life was a carefully curated I*******m feed of domestic bliss, was utterly, irrevocably broken. It was magnificent. It was also sickening. Finally, a muscle twitched in her jaw. The color, which had drained away to a sickly parchment white, surged back in a venomous, furious rush, staining her neck and cheeks a violent, mottled red. The stillness shattered.

She’s right, if Jack was going to sit there and act like nothing happened then I was going to do it too. I’m going to make him wish that I was his. His little game of being a fuckboy was hard but I could play it ten times better than he could. Just because I'm a virgin doesn't mean that I can't break his heart. After exiting the shower I immediately do my skincare routine before putting on a full face of make-up. Once I was finished perfecting my look i then bring myself over to my closet before looking over all of my options.

It's worse than any broken bone I've ever had. I drop onto the edge of my bed, chest still heaving. My hand is stained red, knuckles torn and raw, but the only thing that burns more than the sting of broken skin is the image seared behind my fucking eyes. Beatrice. That long, straight, brown hair. The kind of hair I ache to tangle around my fist and pull until she whimpers. The way it framed her delicate face. Those big, soft, honey brown eyes wide with want. And her mouth. That perfect fucking mouth. Lips parted to let out those shaky little breaths I felt ghost across my skin. The way she surrendered beneath me—unsure, unsteady, and sweet enough to drive me insane.

" Alora sang beautifully, each word rolling off her tongue with so much emotion. I stared at Alora, her face was calm and there was a sad smile on her lips. I looked down at her fingers against the piano. Her fingers had tiny cuts on them and her wrist was visible to me, scarred and bruised. But despite the damage that had been done to her fingers, each time she pressed the keys, a beautiful melody rang after it. How could such tiny fingers with so many scars and cuts produce such beautiful music? How could a broken slave sing so beautifully? How could someone as beautiful as Alora be this broken? She was so sweet and innocent and naive to everything around her. How could anyone take such a

Her beige hazel eyes roamed over her each and every mark and scar on her whole body which made her heart to painfully squeeze inside her chest when she recalled how beautiful she had felt herself to be when he had kissed them ever so tenderly like her flaws were like blessing to him Inessa had always thought she was far away from this world's definition of beauty . Let alone beautiful, she didn't even worth considering closer to it until last night where he had made her to feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. He had made her to feel worthy in her own skin. He had made her to accept her own scars by accepting them as his but only to let her completely alone in the very next moment

Beauty picked the call half-heartedly as she prepared for the worst. “ Beauty." Christine called calmly. “ Ma'am, I'm so sorry ......" “ I'm sorry Beauty." She said making Beauty's heart sink. " I saw the news and how those stupid paparazzi painted you as the home breaker. How are you holding up? “ She continued and Beauty's eyes widened. Isn't she calling her to inform of dropping her? " I'm devastated. “ Beauty said slowly.

♠ I learned that when a pottery is broken, it can be put together and made even more beautiful. I'm like a pottery. Though malleable, can still be made beautiful through my scars. I can and will heal despite the astronomical amount of time it'll take. _Yara Chizaram Williams •••

Denise went through her profile and made sure to delete every picture of herself and Denise…there were only few of hers and Clark. He never allowed her to post their pictures on social media. If only Denise had realised earlier his true intentions… Angrily, she throws the phone at the wall…it broke into pieces… All through the night, Denise cried… All through the night, she lay on the floor soaked in tears with swollen eyes and a reddened face. There was no one to make her relax… she was in her crumbled world again…facing it with a bruised heart…wishing that somehow, some magic occurs to reverse the sorrowful events…to numb the pain that burdened her mind greatly. There and then, she decided