Novel & Cerita Love Hurts Love Scars

"What scars are you talking about and how did you see the scars on her back? Are you in love with her?" "Get a life Liam, I am in love with Lisa" "I already know now answer my questions" "Why should I answer your questions when you have no idea that she has a lot of scars on her back, what do you think?" Kim had a point, he was sleeping with Cameron yet he wasn't aware of the scars Harry had Inflicted on her back, even Rosa had asked him about it but Liam still failed to see those hideous scars on her back. Those scars made her hate herself because she couldn't save her from the torture chamber where he confines her when he wants to punish her.

As these thoughts go through my head, I end up on the floor in the shower, curled up against the wall as I turn to Ruth and Cara. “Was that love? Was that how love was meant to feel? Was it meant to be so painful? Was he meant to be so forceful? Is that how it will always feel? Will it always be like that?” “I don't know if that was love, Scar, but it was only meant to hurt for a little being our first time, but it is meant to change to pleasure.” “It should get better, Scar. Just give it some time. He will bring you pleasure!”

He noticed my discomfort and raised an eyebrow at me and asked very simply “why do you hide your scars from me?” “Because, I do not want to see the love in your eyes for me slowly fade away” I replied, he picked up my hands and gently pulled up the sleeve just above my wrists and he kissed the scars. “ I would never love you less, beauty is only skin deep and your beauty is much more deeper; it shines from within you my angel; these scars will vanish, but my love and respect for you and what you have put yourself through for our safety has only increased and it will keep growing and flourishing.”

“Why did you lose control? I did nothing wrong other than touching you.” “Touching me is everything wrong,” he chips in. “But then I’m still an asshole for reacting in that manner.” “Do you hate my hands on you that much?” My heart clenches with pain. It hurts that he hates me touching him, but as for me… I’d kill to have his fingers on my body. “You’re not at fault, Lira. I have scars all over my body and it’s traumatizing. It itches when someone touches me.” Scars?

"We have both known loss like the sharp edges of a knife. We have both lived with lips that were more scar tissues than skin. Our love came unannounced in the middle of the night. Our love came when we'd given up on asking love to come. I think that has to be part of its miracles." "This is how we heal. I will kiss you like forgiveness. You will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms will bandage and we will press promises between us like flowers in a book. I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat on your skin. I will write novels to the scars of your nose. I will write a dictionary of all the words I have used trying to describe the way it feels to have finally found you." "And I will not be afra

The scars of your love remind me of us They keep me thinking that we almost had it all The scars of your love they leave me breathless I can't help feeling God! We were wasting time. Why the hell were we torturing ourselves when we could just be fucking and getting rid of this tension? Didn't she say just the other night that she had physical needs?

Her brother continued softly, “He hurt you. I know that. But when you talk about him… you still sound like someone who loves him." Celine’s breath hitched. She hated how easily he saw through her. “Love doesn’t vanish just because someone broke it,” she whispered finally. “It fades… but it leaves a scar. And sometimes, even scars ache.” He smiled sadly. “So you still love him.” She exhaled, half-laughing through the tightness in her chest. “Maybe I love what I thought he could be. Maybe I love the version of him who made me believe I mattered.”

Clara There is a certain fear that comes with having your heart broken. The fear of loving again. I've already talked about scars , but the invisible wound that takes the longest time to heal is that of a blue and black heart that is torn apart . You don't pay attention to the wound instead you pretend your bruised but not broken. You treat the symptom and not the cause, and when you finally treat the cause you find out you've caused more damage by not dealing with the cut or wound sooner.

His lips found the curve of her throat, trailing down with reverence, not haste. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough with desire. She nodded. "I need to feel something that isn't pain." He undressed her slowly, carefully unveiling every inch of her skin like a prayer. She kissed the scars on his chest; he kissed the onee etched into her heart. She signed in pleasure as he took her bosom in his mouth. She opened to him like a flower and he made love to her. When they came together, it was more than passion. It was reclamation. A vow that despite all they had endured, they were still standing. Still together.

The scent of pine and smoky loam arrived on the breeze, and winter's silence settled on the land, in silence. Adrian, healthier than he had been in months, trailed behind her. The scarf she had knit for him was wrapped securely around his neck. His paleness was now its usual color, his flesh healthy and sturdy once more, bearing only whispers of the scars there previously—a reminder of what he'd endured. The scars were no longer imperfections to Elara, however. To her, they were marks of survival. Of faith. Of love. He looked over at her, then out into the forest. "You're up early," he murmured, his breath gentle on the air.