Do You Wanna Know How I Got These Scars Novels & Stories

He tilts his head slightly. “I’ve been meaning to ask about that scar. How’d you get it?” he asks. I glance down, my fingers brushing over the faint, jagged line just below my kneecap. It’s old, but still obvious against my skin. "I fell off a cliff five years ago. I was being chased by a bunch of dumb high school bullies. I tripped, rolled, scraped up my knees, and hit my head pretty bad," I say, flipping a page in my book.

Doom. “You don't have to tell me. Your scar says it all.” “Oh, this.” I chuckle, pointing at the scar on my face. I have a straight scar that starts at just below my eyebrow and extends down to my upper cheek, where it ends. And what can I say? It fucking makes me stand out. I hate and despise how I got it, but this scar has made me who I am today. “It is meant to scare you, actually. And I still got the looks. Women love me.” I deadpan and it's not as if I'm bluffing.

How do you go four ounds without tiring out? Even I, am surprised I’m still breathing well after all the energy expended. My wolf spake, “Sex-hungry, bastard.” I allowed him do his wish and he grinned in delight. After a minutes, he was done and laid back to hear me out. “Now what is it you want to know?” He asked as he pant heavily. “Your scar. How dod you get it?” I asked again. “Quite an adventure, you see,” he started. “But contrary to what you might think, it isn't from battle or any fight. I got this from a woman,” he laughed.

not yet. I don’t always get what I want, because Cole stands at the doorway his eyes going from me to my back and then he is on me with two steps. “Where did you get this?” If I knew it, it would somehow be easier for me. “I don’t know, it just appeared, growing on my scar.” “the scar you got as a child,” he whispers as he traces it lightly with his fingers and I nod. I had to tell them something after I was bared to them all the night we consummated.

And that my date would be a fool to not strip me down and have his wicked way with me on the side of the building that has no camera or lights. My hand had gone straight to my stomach as phantom pains took over my body. A scar in the shape of a half-moon contaminates my flesh. I've had it for as long as I can remember, and my Aunt Joy never really elaborated on how I got it. The doctor who treated me strongly believed that I had buried the memory due to the trauma my body had gone through. I have a strong feeling that I received the scar in a car wreck that I was in with my mother when I was roughly six years old.

Once again, he glanced at me, but I did not stop him, which encouraged him to move on. After unbuttoning my shirt fully he was shocked to see them. He looked at them weirdly. Rather than looking at my boobs, he was looking at some scars near my stomach. He touched them and asked very concerned, "When did that happen?" At first, I thought he was disgusted about my scars but when he slowly and lightly touched my scars as they would cause me pain, I closed my eyes and said, "It was from the battle I have fought."

She whispered, shaking her head. “You'll be fine.” I whispered, restraining myself from reaching out for her again. “I guess.” She said, looking at my chest. “Where did you get this scar?” She asked, tracing one of the several scars on my body. I looked down at it, unsure where it was from. “That's either by my father, or by my royal trainer.” I shrugged, losing the battle against my body. “I think we should have a timetable. It's only logical.” Hyacinth suggested, still not looking at my face.

“Firstly, yes, I trust you. Secondly, the pictures are missing your birthmark and your scar.” I blinked in surprise. I didn’t even think about that. All I knew was that I didn’t pose for naked pictures so I knew they weren’t mine, but my birthmark and scar… I raised my top slightly and looked at the small scar that had been on the side of my stomach since I was a kid. I had been playing and I fell, hitting my side against a hard sharp surface. I’d lost so much blood I thought I was going to die, but I didn’t. The scar I’d gotten from the injury had been very huge but over the years, it decreased in size. I even thought it was gone. It was very faint but it was still there. I never told Jacks

She turned around and now lay with her back to me, trying to hug herself. Once again, I felt something shocking—something that truly made me lose my voice when I saw the scars on her back. Cassandra’s pale white skin made the scars stand out clearly. A long line ran from her shoulder to her waist, and I saw several other scars there that, unfortunately… were just like the ones I have on my own back. I got those scars years ago from a kidnapping I experienced when I was 14, and I still carry them to this day. How… how could Cassandra have the same scars?

With a chuckle, I forced myself to sit up, pulling the sheet firmly so it stayed above my chest. "I don't think my scars are iconic like yours, Quinn." "Every scar counts to me." He sat attentively. Sleeping with him wasn't enough. We were now talking about scars. "This," I started showing the little cut on my knee. "Is from highschool. I landed roughly after a shot in the basketball net." "Mmm, sports girl." "Yeah, you bet," I grinned and lifted my palms to him. "I got burned while I cooked in Fernando's bar. That's before he put me in the bar."