Characters With Scars Novels & Stories

★★★★★ 4PM* The members had gotten back from Rome unharmed but Scar was an exception. Her arms was still untreated since they didn't take any aid kit with them. "OMG, scar.....Your arm!" Lila exclaimed immediately she set her eyes on her. "It nothing Lila, it just a bullet!" Scar let out a smile. "Let go to the suite. I'll help you treat it!" She offered and scar nodded. "Thanks baby!" Scar smiled hanging her arm around Lila's neck.

Admittedly. But, I was in no way attracted to him. He was more of my big brother. Surprising? Yes. But contrary to what you may think, Carlos is the complete opposite of Lucas. Carlos hated the way Lucas treated us slaves. He always tried to help as much as he could. He would sometimes help me treat my wounds so they could heal properly but the scars of the ones he couldn't help with still remained and some wounds were just too big to heal right. Not just me though, he would help anyone he could in any way he could.

“It was rude of me to stare. But yes, I am here for work.” Elara’s expression softened, and she nodded. “You may be surprised to learn that my scars are a symbol of my strength, Miss Rogers.” She ran a finger along the length of her neck, staring into space. “This scar is a reminder of everything I’ve overcome to get to where I am today.” I swallowed hard.

He looked away after saying that. “What do you mean?” I asked, moving closer towards him. He summoned his courage and looked up at me, “It’s because I do not deserve you. You do not deserve a man like me, a man with scars.” “It’s okay to have scars,” I replied with conviction. “In fact, I love men with scars. People that have been hurt are better lovers. Moreover, the fact that they have scars means they have healed.” “Really? If they’ve been healed, why doesn’t the scar disappear?” Kelvin asked. I looked into his eyes, burning for him,

He held his phone and watched the video all night long. The next morning, when he looked in the mirror, he saw a man who looked like a vagrant—unshaven, haggard, and lifeless. He stared at his own reflection and muttered bitterly, "You deserve this." … On the day of my wedding, all my college classmates showed up, including Tristan. At first, I was worried he would cause trouble again. I didn't want to be disturbed by him anymore. Even with my good temper, I couldn't stand being constantly tangled up in his drama.

If not for the fact that she had Lycan traits, she would have collapsed since. Scarface picked up the dagger on the ground, reached out to touch the bleeding wound on his neck, walked up to Carra, and used the dagger to remove the veil on her face. After seeing the scar on her face, He sneered and said. "I thought you'll be a celestial beauty, but you turned out to be another Scarface. Look at your scar. It's even worse than the one on my face. Who's the Scarface now? Let me give you one more scar then." A fierce light flashed in Scarface's eyes, and he lifted the dagger to mark Carra's face.

Here, ancient ways and modern ideals combined to provide a home unlike any other. Entering his quarters, Liam wasted no time peeling off his clothes. The weight of the day was heavy on his shoulders. His lean muscular frame was laced with a latticework of scars, faint reminders of battles long since past. The scars did nothing to detract from his appearance, rather, they lent him an aura of strength and resilience. The tanned skin was etched with these marks, like badges, his physique fit and well-defined, with strong arms and a chest chiselled by years of training and hard-earned experience.

, I came out of my car and I wasn’t surprised when Scarlett came out wearing a long face. “You bitch!” She said as she walked towards me. “Can we do this later, I got work. Thank you” I said dryly and made to enter my car but she was fast to touch me by my hand. I quickly removed her hand from my body like it was a plague and looked at her angrily. “Never in your life, I repeat, never touch me with that hand you uses to give my dad a hand job” Scarlett looked pretty embarrassed as I said that but she was quick to cover it up with a scoff.

The thought seemed to excite her. "What is the point of having feelings when I look like this? So I can suffer more?" "Oh, so the scars are the problem. It seems like you still care about how you look." She shook her head. "The meaning behind the scars was to make you work on your character rather than your appearance." "No one cares about character when you look like this." He said pointing at his face. "It is indeed difficult when people only care about appearance." She said taking a dig at him.

Or simply the quiet joy of being alive. "Let me see you," she said, reaching for his shirt. He allowed her to undress him, his body emerging from the layers of leather and wool. The scars on his chest caught the light, silver lines on bronze skin. She traced them with her fingers, each one a story, each one a battle survived. He shivered beneath her touch. "You are beautiful," she said. "I am scarred." "So am I." She pressed her palm flat against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "Scars are not ugly. They are proof that we did not break."