Characters With Scars Novels & Stories

They fought tooth and nail as if it was some type of morbid dance between two opposite forces until eventually overcoming what used to stand in front: they defeated them again…or so thought those remaining few who chose life over death. Still panting heavily amid the ruins left behind due devastation caused by Miss Bulwark (*as referred lovingly by Lovato*), both daredevils embraced at last after such intense battle; relieved - although bruised & battered (mostly mentally!)-that also no harm had come upon their little brave soul known as 'Scarlett'. One final thing remained however: The showstopper itself…. A fiery explosion occurred right then when two hearts collide during an affectionate

“They’ll kill us without a second thought, we shouldn’t let them get away either.” Malric nodded, “He’s right,” he concurred, his smoked-gold eyes suddenly peered at me, “Are you alright?” I nodded, “I’m good.” I hesitated to ask, but I couldn’t help it when I saw a bloody scar on his left arm. “What about you?” He shrugged, “It’s just a scar. Nothing that can’t heal in a couple of hours.” Miguel suddenly chuckled and asked me, “Do you two know each other?” he asked suddenly and my heart froze. “You speak like you’ve met Alpha Malric before, Alruin.”

"Shouldn't you say something else?" "Should I?" He patted his hair as he looked at her with a tilted smile. "Take a bath and I'll help you with your injuries." She said. "Imogen would heal it overtime." He said. "But there'll be scars..you shouldn't leave scars all over your body." She shook her head. "Scars are a mark of victories." "Not today's scars." She moved closer to him, "These are marks of distraction." She whispered and raisedd her brows, her eyes brightening like the sun. Xandros's expression darkened as he stared at her.

But what shocked me most was his face. The rumors said he was a disfigured, ugly monster. But the man before me had a face so handsome it was almost unnatural. His features were as sharp as a marble sculpture, his skin a sickly pale, and his deep green eyes were bottomless pits. There were no scars on his face, no sign of disfigurement at all. This was Caspian Valerius, the most feared king of Chicago's underworld. He didn't even glance at me. From the moment he walked in, he was speaking in a low voice to the lawyer beside him, his expression so cold it was as if he were here to sign a simple business contract.

With a resolve that was as unwavering as the scar on my face, I made a split-second decision that would alter the course of the battle. The fabric of my shirt slid off my shoulders, revealing the scars that crisscrossed my body a visual testament to the trials I had faced, the battles I had fought, and the strength that had been forged in the crucible of adversity. The arena was now privy to a raw vulnerability, a glimpse into the past that had shaped me into the person I was today.

Jace was gorgeous, it was what startled me when I first saw him; Mesmerizing blue eyes, perfect nose, perfect teeth, jaw that could cut glass… “He’s too pretty. Flawless? I don’t know how to describe it.” I shrugged and cut into my stake. “And you don’t like flawless?” “It feels characterless, like the person doesn’t have a story to tell about their lives or like they haven’t done anything. It’s a bad take, I know, but- For example,” I showed him a scar on my wrist. “I got this three years ago when the kitchen door slammed into my hand. I raised my elbow revealing another scar. food festival; A guy tried to snatch my purse and I refused to let go of the strap. These are the resulting burns.

I never liked people getting too close to me. It might have been my survival instincts and trust issues, but I'm used to people being cruel. With both my parents gone, years of surviving as a lone wolf taught me to expect only the worst in humans. Kindness isn't something I see every day. Scar watches me as I wrap up the cuts around my hand with a white cloth. As his name says, he has quite a glaring scar that runs from his left eye to the side of his jaw. His bare chest shows numerous tattoos and battle marks. A leather belt hangs on his waist, securing a pair of cargo pants.

Her gasp echoed through the silence of the room as she beheld the gruesome scars etched across her chest, disappearing beneath the shadows of her nightgown. Amani's trembling hands moved instinctively, hastily discarding the nightgown to reveal her scar-ridden body in all its disfigured glory. She stood there, vulnerable and exposed, as she stared at her own reflection in horror. Her chest and torso bore a multitude of intersecting scars, a painful reminder of the brutal attack she had endured.

he said and we went inside the mansion into his room. He made me sit on the bed and removed his t-shirt, he stood in front of me. he grabbed my hand pressed it against his naked chest. “Look,” he said, I did, as I look closely, I noticed a scar on his skin. “It’s a scar,” I whispered. As Nikolai has a scar on his body, I have a scar in my mind. The memory of Greyson’s death. Scars are what make us who we are. Everyone has scars…some are etched into skin, and some are burned into memory. Nobody moves through life without a scar slicing them in half.

Like I have two dimples when I smile while Emily has two but one is not that deep. I have a small birthmark just above my navel, which Emily doesn't have. When I went out two days ago to meet up with Maddie at Starbucks, people were congratulating me on my wedding. I was too embarrassed to say I'm not the one getting married but my twin. Nobody will believe me, anyway. So I thanked them and smiled politely at them. At the mall, when we went shopping for wedding gifts, someone congratulated me, and I told him I wasn't the one he never believed me.