Hidden Scars Novels & Stories

Blood soaked the sheets and bed, and still to this day, the stain was still there. The scars stretched from right under my left breast and down to my navel. It had healed now, but they were still there. Red, swollen, and ugly. It was my shame and humiliation, and it branded me as HIS. I hated it... “Fuck,” I heard Knives mutter, as he gently stroked his fingers over the scars. I shivered but didn’t flinch away. Strangely, his touch was gentle and loving. I had been afraid that he’d hit me or kick me out after I showed him, but he seemed to be rooted to the spot for now. Not that I expected anything from him after this. I was just so desperate to get out of another claiming, I hadn’t thought

Michele's voice pulled me back to reality. "If she hadn't left all those years ago, the woman at my side would be a gambler. How could it be an angel like you? Tomorrow is our 99th day together, and I'm putting the most profitable strip club in Vallasia under your name." Michele looked at Barbara with complete indulgence and pinched her cheek playfully. Barbara laughed softly and leaned in to kiss him. A sudden, stabbing pain tore through my side, forcing a sharp gasp from me. It was the scar I had carried for five years, left behind when I sold a kidney just to stay alive after I failed to repay my loan.

"You think you can find a mate? You are incapable." Everything I had kept hidden, the private panic about my inability to shift, suddenly felt like it lay open on the table between us. Lucious, listening in from wherever he stood, would hear now. I had never told anyone. I had never allowed anyone to see that afraid, raw place. Her accusation was not only cruel; it was a betrayal that cut through years of shared history.

Aurora Wildheart sat at the scarred oak table, her silver-blue eyes scanning a detailed map of Nightshade’s western territory, where the stone circle for their ‘rite of binding’ lay. The cloaked figure’s eerie familiarity, Mara’s chilling message, ‘The Nightshade calls for the chosen… it showed me your face, Aurora’ and the whisper in her mind ‘The chosen will fall’ wove a tapestry of dread, intertwining with Vincent’s unsettling message: Trust your instincts. Her forbidden bond with the vampire liaison was a quiet anchor, yet the mystery of her lost past - before The Emerald Forest Pack took her in at seven - gnawed at her, amplified by the runes’ resonance and Mikhail’s cryptic scrutiny.

Proof that the truth doesn’t always win out and really ambitious and resourceful people can get away with multiple attempts at m*rder. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about that. Scars are just something that stay with you forever. I do know that sometimes the ones that have silver in them will open up if I take a hit too hard, like they are fresh. I never understood that, they are a year old now, they shouldn’t still open up, but maybe that’s the silver, maybe I am too weak to heal from them properly. They are a reminder of one of the worst situations of my life, but at the same time, I am still here with them so they also show that I survived. I don’t know if I want them to go away, but

She looked out the window in surprise, her eyes gradually showing Shane's appearance from last night. Shane's eyes looked at her, he hid them very well, but from beginning to end, she always felt like she knew him, even if he was worried, he would still have some moves - small, habitual actions, just like Derek. Is there such a coincidence in this world? But why is there no scar on his body? Burns caused by the extremely corrosive substance S404 will leave scars, and the wounds are very difficult to completely erase.

The kind that happens when something enters a room that nobody was prepared for. I go still. I don’t look at anyone. I stare at the wall directly in front of me and I breathe, slowly, through my nose, and I feel the air on my back and I know exactly what they can see and I don’t move a single muscle. The scars don’t lie. They never have. They’re not the clean, faded kind that can be explained away as childhood accidents or a medical procedure. They’re the kind that have a story, and the story is ugly, and every woman in this room is currently reading it whether they want to or not.

The peace of the restored Stillwater felt like a lie. The sun was warm, the birds sang, and the village stood solid and real around them but the group stood frozen, all eyes on Ashiel’s arm. The scar wasn't a wound anymore, it was completely blurred, a smudge of grey on his skin, like a faded tattoo. Ashiel stared at it, his face a mask of confusion and dawning horror. He prodded the greyed skin with a finger; he felt nothing, no ridge, no memory of pain - it was just blank.

The innocent girl I thought I once loved no longer existed, and I could not even remember what I had ever seen in her. Once upon a time, I had been the jealous type, ready to tear apart any male who so much as spoke to her. However, looking at those pictures of her lying naked in another man's bed, I felt nothing at all. I thanked Penelope and slowly stood up. "By the way, I need to return something to you." As I spoke, I immediately shifted into my wolf form and dragged my sharp claws across my arm three times, leaving deep gashes where you could see the mangled flesh beneath.

She had grown into a breathtaking woman, more stunning than even he could have imagined her. And he had done just that. For years after he did what he did, he had kept away from her, while simultaneously fighting the urge to see her again. Curiosity was a painful thing to endure, and he kept wondering what she would look like now, and whether anything would change over the years. Time healed all wounds, and he had hoped that the scar he left on her would have healed by then. Wounds heal, but scars remain with us for life. "Look at you," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "You look even more beautiful than I remember."