Novel & Cerita Do You Want To Know How I Got These Scars

A slow burn flares to life between my legs, and I resist the urge to squeeze them together. Reaching up, I traced my finger over the scar. I wanted to ask how it happened, but then, I had my own scars. They weren't as deep as his, and in this low light, hopefully he wouldn't notice them, but if he did, I just didn't want him to ask any question. So I shook my head in answer to his and lifted my chin back up to him.

"Is your husband pressuring you to get rid of it? After all, Mr. Riego is known for his pick interest and strict type for coming from an affluent society." I shake my head at him, his reaction is just the same as mine when I first saw this scar. "No.." I gulped while feeling nervous. "Actually, I only had these scar's just recently, but as you know now, it looks old and I don't know how that happened." "What are you saying?" I took a deep breath before answering him, "A monster looking animal attacked me just days ago and now the scar that was left had been hurting since then. It feels like burning me inside and although it's tolerable, it has been uncomfortable for me."

Like he'd decided the risk was worth it. I undid the next button on his shirt. The one I'd been staring at for the entire conversation. His skin appeared — warm, smooth, a scattering of dark hair across his chest. The scar on his ribs that I'd seen in some corporate photo and had spent probably way too much time fantasizing about. "Tell me where you got this," I said, tracing the scar with my fingertip. "Rock climbing accident. Freshman year. I was being stupid. Fell twenty feet and got impaled on a rock outcropping." He exhaled as my finger traced the length of it. "Should have killed me. Barely missed everything important."

His fingers reach out and trace my arm — the one with the scars. His lips doesn't curl in disgust instead he watches them with curiosity, stroking it gently with profound tenderness that I bite my lips to prevent a moan from slipping out. “How did you get them ? ” His voice is deeper, rougher yet at the same time gentle. “From a fire accident,” I answer simply, my mind cloudy. No one has ever looked at my scars like that. They never ask how I got them but whisper vile insults at me. Yet he did.

"Let's get out of here. It'll be me, you and Vicky. Together forever. I won't let anything happen to either of you." It's either she's forgotten Vicky or she's too depressed to care, but there's no reaction. I rid my mother of her stained clothes and find more scars. The most prominent one along her thigh. I take my hand to it and rub it gently. "We're twinning now." I have a scar that ugly along my flank. My father gave me that scar, even though I spent hours trying to convince Angie that I scraped myself in the pool. She was still worried because my shirt was soaking up so much blood.

“What if it was all a dream? What if none of that ever happened?” “Brook?” My mother’s voice turns cautious behind me. I turn sharply, and her gaze drops to my bare stomach. I’m wearing a tank top. “When did you get that scar?” She asks softly, confused. “What scar?” I say, looking down. The air leaves my lungs in one sharp rush as soon as I see it. A faint, healed scar on my stomach. On the exact spot Lance had stabbed me. My fingers tremble as I reach out and touch it. It’s real. Jesus Christ!

“Where did you get those scars from?” She remembered the ill way she had been treated at her step-parents' house, the way she had been bullied in school, and worst of all, all she went through at the hands of Shawn. All those experiences left both physical and emotional scars on her, the worst ones coming from Shawn. There was a little scar on her cheek that was starting to fade away. Another scar on her neck, this one was more obvious and looked fresh, there were also various scars on her hands and tummy and she had almost forgotten about them.

I tried to blink back the tears but instead they fell down my cheeks one after another like a passing train. “What were they supposed to see? My bald patches, from all the times I was dragged by my hair?” I asked letting my hair lose. “The scars? From all the times I was whipped and tied up?” I asked letting my towel lose doing a 360 turn so that Logan could see all of my scars, blue, green, red, black, purple, all the colors that covered my body, blisters, cuts, bumps and lumps.

The scar. “Look,” I pointed to the place with a long mark on it. There was no need to see it to confirm it. I could feel its embedment into my pale skin. It was imprinted into my skin like a tattoo. “What is that?” Hannah gasped, running her hands silently over my scar. “My dad used a cane on me and struck my back so hard. It was painful.” “It looks very painful Stella," Hannah agreed sympathetically. And then she was angry.. “Why did he do this to you?”

I didn't want to tell them anything past that they would kick me out if they knew the truth. " How did you get that scar?" Theo spoke as he looked down at me. My eyes twitched and I looked away from him before answering. " My uh my m-mum s-she uh g-gave me t-the s-scar." It came out broken and as a whisper but I knew both of them had heard my answer as the silence was overwhelming, I could feel the hot tears streaming down my face as we continued to walk completely quiet as the only sound heard was their shoes hitting the ground.