Legoshi Scars Novels & Stories

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.

Adnan sighed heavily, grabbing another fistful and this time holding it tight. "I was six years old when I first saw him hit my mother," he said, a mirthless chuckle escaping his lips. "Can you imagine what a six year old would have done? Of course I tried to stop him. Nafisa was three at the time. I still remember the way she ran towards Umma and tried to shield her from him. He never loved her. That's what he kept saying as he beat her. As little as I was, I tried to hold him off. That's where I got this scar."

kyle waves in the air, then points it at Landon before slumping on the chair next to him. “she told me, in not so many ways, and when I was there with her, I did confirm it myself. She is.” I have a feeling that’s not all. the incoming part might be the hardest I fear. “she has some large scar on her back, from the base of the neck to the base of the spine.” There it is. Landon has always been obsessed with scars and it has so much to do with an incident that happened so long ago when we were pups I don’t know why he doesn’t let go already.

It was like asking a flower not to bloom under healing, restorative sunshine. Lea took a deep breath and let go of her sarong. It slipped to the pool deck at her feet, leaving her in nothing but the green costume. Her leg was criss-crossed with vivid white scars and dents where muscle had been grafted from her thigh to her calf. Her leg had been through a long, hard battle to avoid being amputated and had only just won. And it showed.

Marcus stepped behind her pushing the wheel chair out of the ward. Scar is seated on the bed wrapped in a duvet,she looks pale and weak with eye bags. Marcus set the camera facing her properly,her scars that made her look formerly dangerous now made her look vulnerable,like someone beaten down by life,a number of times. “Good day guys,I'm Scar ,yeah that's how I remember my name, though people call me Lisa but I don't feel connected to it” She coughed, Marcus passed her a handkerchief,her hands trembled as she collected it,she coughed into it,her body trembling as she coughed,she raised her tears filled eyes, sniffing softly.

I could feel his member pushing on my thigh through the jeans. He lifted me up slightly removing my shirt. His eyes widened as he saw the scar covering from my shoulder to the bottom of my ribs. I had forgotten about it in the moment. I could sense his anger rolling off him as he focused on the imperfections of my body. He leaned in and kissed me passionately. I felt his bare chest press against mine as my body gushed, soaking my panties. A deep groan came from his chest as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

As he moved, the moonlight caught the skin of his back. Amora’s breath caught in her throat. She had seen Oscar in work shirts and t-shirts, but she had never seen him bare-backed. Crisscrossing across his broad, muscular shoulders and running all the way down his spine were thick, pale, jagged scars. They weren't the clean marks left by a wolf’s claws during a fair fight. These were deep, twisted tracks—the kind left by silver-tipped whips or heavy, electrified batons. Without thinking, driven by a healer’s instinct she had inherited from her father, Amora reached out. Her fingertips softly brushed against the edge of a thick scar near his shoulder blade.

Its tail swept once across the floor. Nudging a pine cone that had rolled free back to the edge of the flames. It lifted its hind leg. It scratched the old scar on its foreleg. That was from the arrow it had taken for Rex, years ago. The wound had long healed. But the scar remained. Like the burn scar on Rex's right shoulder. Like the old scar on the back of Silas's hand. Like the shackle mark on the webbing of Elias's left hand.

A squeak echoes through the silence, and as arms wrap around me, I realize the sound came from me. “I’ve got you,” Lucas says, pulling me to his chest. “No, your injuries—” “Are fine,” he interrupts. He reaches up, grabs the back of his collar, and tugs his ruined shirt over his head. “See?” I don’t want to look at the faint pink scars slice across his torso, a stark contrast to his regularly tanned skin. They’ve healed mostly, but there will always be marks to remind me that he nearly died today. Reaching for my hand, Lucas takes my hand in his and carefully runs my fingers over the marks.

"I'm mateless, Celeste." "What do you mean?" He sets his drink down, scooting off the bean bag and pushing himself closer to me. He turns his back to me, grabbing his lengthy hair and moving it away from the back of his neck. There, beneath his hairline, is a circle of scarred flesh. As he flexes his neck I could've sworn it had a goldish hue to it. There's raised flesh within the circled scar, slightly pale in color. Two inward curved lines reflect back on each other on opposite sides of the scar. Additionally, a small line lays between the reflection, outward dashes of opposite direction on either end. A slanted slash goes through the middle of the line. It looks wrong on his body, the mar