Made Of Scars Novels & Stories

I was caught in a strange kind of madness, unable to escape. “Your scar is a sign of your past, just like mine,” he whispered. “But it's not a sign of weakness. It's a reminder of what you've been through, and how you've come out stronger on the other side. Never be ashamed of your scars - they make you who you are.” Finally, he brought his face to mine and I could see the dark, intense passion that flickered across them as he stared at me.

I looked at his retreating back wondering since when did he become so heartless. --------------------------------------------------- "Take these medicine for 1 week and the inflammation will be gone. But these marks will remain...." The doctor said looking sadly at me but I didn't cared. These scars were nothing compared to the scars on my soul. Andrea was still sitting with me talking to the doctor "I am really sorry ma'am" I said referring to the burn on her hand "It's alright they will heal but yours may not.....I will get you a special scars medicine ..it definitely works...don't worry they will vanish with time'

A past that had not destroyed me but brought me here. My hand trembled as it rose to his chest. My fingertips traced the heated skin, the muscles, and there too I found scars. Some old, faint, barely there. Others sharp, fresh reminders of battles still clinging to him. I caressed them, whispering softly: “You too… are made of pieces.” He smiled, and in his smile there was no bitterness. Only a deep recognition. “And you are the only one who sees them this way.”

The scar mask was made using silicone that was molded to the shape of her face, and paint was used to add color to the scar. No one had ever discovered that the scar was fake, as no one apart from her grandmother, had ever studied her face carefully. At first glance, everyone would be caught off guard by her scar, and they would hastily look away. No one gave her a second glance. Like Mrs. Woods had said, the scar on her face would disgust anyone who saw her, and no one would repeatedly stare at something that disgusted them.

The visible scar is easily spotted and either fades over time or heals but leaves a mark. Then there is the dangerous kind of scars that creep up on you. The kind of scars that unleash a monster you never knew existed ... I call them abstract scars . Betrayal, deceit, heart break, heartache , teasing , bullying , abuse and stuff we choose to internalise in order not to appear weak ... That leaves scars .

The firelight dances over our faces, showing the deep feeling in our eyes. “I need you to know something, Xander,” I begin nervously, clutching a small charm that has been with me through many problems. “Every scar on my skin, every wound, it tells a story—a story of pain, loss, and sometimes, hope. But I fear that some of these scars... they might break us apart if we allow them.” Xander’s eyes soften, and he takes my hand in his. “Aria, those scars are proof of your survival. They are signs that you’ve survived pain and still stand here, stronger than ever. They don’t define you...they improve you.”

he retorted, a hint of confusion tainting his voice. "Well, typically, scars that have been present for over a decade tend to gradually fade due to metabolic processes," Gwyneth replied, recalling the scar she had observed at the hospital. She was certain she hadn't misjudged it. Elizabeth's scar couldn't be more than a few years old at most. Furthermore, burns and scalds affected muscles differently, with scalds generally healing faster.

I watched, my eyes narrowing, as he held his arms out toward me. My breath hitched. His skin was ruined. From his wrists all the way up to his forearms, his flesh was covered in a frightening web of scars. There were deep, jagged lines, discolored patches, and dozens of circular puncture marks. They were injection scars, overlapping one another, telling a story of years of brutal, desperate experimentation.

"No, I don't think he needs anyone else as his partner, nor do I think you are any less deserving of him. Did you know Lexie, that not too long ago, scars were highly prized in our community?" I just blinked at him, and fortunately enough, he continued without waiting for my answer. "Scars are not just a sign of a life well- lived, but one's scars show that this person is a survivor. That they are stronger than whatever life could throw at them. So don't you ever think that the scars you carry because of your past make you any less worthy, instead, they indicate that you should be celebrated even more!

She remembered being told that it wasn’t her fault. She remembered seeing a tall guy standing beside Jace’s grave, his back towards her. He was probably his younger brother whom she never had a chance to meet. She remembered everything. She looked down at the scar on her forearm, there were a few scars on her body that left marks. They reminded her of that horrible night. The one on her forehead was nearly invisible now, but the rest were the same. They didn’t hurt but the memories did, the nightmares did. Her older sister had been her support in all of this, her sister, her parents, Faith, and all her friends.