Painted Scars Book Novels & Stories

“You did.” “And the Book?” He shook his head. “Gone.” Her gaze dropped to her hands. The wound where she’d cut herself had healed… but not cleanly. The skin had scarred in a spiral, dark and perfect, etched into her palm like ink burned beneath flesh. The same spiral Mara had worn. The same spiral that had filled the Book’s pages. “I feel different,” she whispered. Tristan’s hand hovered, almost touching hers, then pulled back. “You are.”

Her clothes were torn and there were claw marks and bite wounds all over her, the worst of which was a claw mark that traveled from her left collarbone to her right hip. Luckily it didn’t appear too deep, and someone had soaked it with a herb poultice, as if to help it heal. " I will help you." Scar said as she muttered some words placing her hand on the wound , she looked at it but her chants weren't doing justice. She repeated again and again before Hazel told her to stop

"I'll find her. And when I do. I'll beg. Beg on bended knee. Go where she goes. But show Harrison Blackwood is not the devil Maya portrayed him to be. Be the man Leya needs." Alone, finally, in her life, the therapist cocked her head to one side. "That is your promise. Now hold on." And as Harrison left that office that night, his chest aching but his heart seething once more, there was one thing echoing in his ears above the rest: He had scars that would haunt him for a lifetime. And out of those scars had been driven home a promise — a promise that would be the refrain of his years.

I'm hungry and thirsty, Silas is kinda a lifesaver. I was in the last drop of my drink when I sense someone standing beside me. Shock and fear envelop my chest when someone reaches his hand to me-- asking for a dance. My fist tightened around the bouquet of red roses I'm holding and the empty wine glass that almost shattered. I'm not shocked because of the way he just popped beside me, but because of the uneasiness I felt and the fear that aroused inside of me. It's instinct. I look at his hand before paying him my attention, my forehead knotted when I notice the peek of a familiar tattoo-- and that's hit me. I remembered the image I once saw when I was sixteen for my mission but ended up fa

Not the patient counting ceiling cracks while pride rotted inside her ribs. “Don’t look so excited,” Mara muttered from the chair near the window, watching me like she could already see the trouble forming behind my eyes. “Healing doesn’t mean you’re invincible. Again.” I smirked. “Relax. I almost died once this month. That should count as character development.” Maya snorted under her breath, but she wasn’t smiling. Her gaze lingered on the thin silver lines scattered across my skin, scars that magic could not fully erase because they had been carved too deep. Some were old. Some were fresh and all of them were mine.

My daughter, Amelia Rossum, comes home with her palm pierced all the way through by a pencil. I drop my mop in a panic, hastily change out of my loungewear, and rush her to the ER. At the hospital entrance, my husband, Benedict Rossum, jumps out of his car and immediately lashes out at me. "How could you let this happen to her?" Our neighbor, Lorelei Bates, trails behind him, holding her daughter's hand. She addresses him gently, "Benedict, don't be so hard on Clarissa. Everyone makes mistakes." He scoffs. "Other mothers can keep their kids safe perfectly fine. What's her excuse? I bet she did this on purpose to guilt me into coming home early!" Amelia recoils and hides behind me. Seei

“I’ve held hearts that were still beating while they were cut open. This? This is nothing.” She laughs, but it sounds thinner, forced. “Big talk for someone who just got scalded like a clumsy child.” I tilt my head. “You know what happens when you burn tissue bad enough? Nerves die slow. Skin contracts. Scars pull tight for the rest of your life. You wanna know exactly how ugly that looks on a hand? I can show you pictures. Or I can give you a live demo next time.” Her eyes narrow. “You threatening me now?”

“Relax. She’s not worth the energy. I’m just happy you’re back, Mira.” Mira blinked, her expression softening for the first time. “You missed me?” “Like hell I did,” Scarlet said sarcastically, but her tone cracked. “The room was too damn quiet without you.” Mira chuckled ... that wicked, carefree sound Scarlet had missed so much. But then something strange happened. The bruises that painted Mira’s skin ... the ones that looked deep, fresh, painful ... began to fade. One by one, the angry welts melted away, leaving her skin smooth and flawless.

“Reagan can be a dick. Yes, most people who work closely with us know of our bonds. You’ll understand more when you meet my parents.” “I hope they don’t think I am as stupid as I feel.” I replied too honestly. “You are not stupid Miss. We keep these secrets for reasons.” Reagan replied gently with half a smile. “I appreciate that.” 7 Days later… I paced around the living room of my little guest house I called home. I glanced down at my watch before staring at the tattoo drawn around my wrist. Twisting my arm around looking at the beautiful artwork. A dragon’s tail, around an inch in width, wrapped around my wrist. The red scales unlike anything I had seen before, hints of gold looked as if t

" - suzangill ... Wear your battle scars, not as a flaw but an ornament. And see them shine even brighter than gold and diamonds. Mold your weaknesses into your strength, To become the best version of the scarred beauty of yourself. .... The End .... Thank you so much for being with me on this beautiful journey. Your love, comments and votes on this book have meant the world to me. I wish you all nothing but happiness and success in life. Take care! Love you all. Your dear author, Suzan❤️