Painted Scars By Neva Altaj Novels & Stories

---Alec's POV--- "Alec, what do you think about this?" "It’s beautiful Tesoro." After having the moment with Nevaeh yesterday, and the fact that she has been neglecting her interests. So today we decided to just have a day where she can do whatever she wanted to do and just a relaxing day for her to gain back her interests. "You sure it's beautiful?" "Yes Tesoro, it is beautiful. We should get a frame to put it on the wall." After going shopping in the morning, she did get a lot of painting products and has been going crazy with it for a couple of hours now.

Chapter 2 “Thank you” he said lifting her hands to brush his lips in an airy kiss, whilst studying her face. She had amazing hazel green eyes, he imagined drowning in them but as he looked deeply into them, he saw something sad lurking behind them, she seemed to have hidden them quite well and Richard had a sinking feeling that she hide it even from herself, someone had hurt her badly and she pretended to not feel the pain, Richard felt his hands fist up and realized that he actually wanted to strangle that person and hurt him even worse than the way he had hurt this woman.

Which I know she prepared it herself. The silence is like little glasses piercing through my fragile heart. She has used her long black her as a window to block my view. Her eyes have been cast down. She knew when I look into her eyes, and I will know what wrong. Just the same way she knows what bothering me by looking at me in the eye. Now I believe the saying that goes like the eyes is the window to the soul, tell me you do believe in it. Mum say something, I stretched my hands to touch her, but she removed it from the table and placed it on her laps.

Four large paintings hung on the main wall, each one lit perfectly so it seemed to breathe on its own. Her eyes moved across them slowly… and then she saw something that caught her attention immediately. Paintings. And one of the paintings was hers. It was a piece she had finished months ago — a woman standing by a window, half in shadow, half in light. The brushwork showed all the quiet pain and hope she had felt when she painted it. Seeing it here, among the other strong works, made her chest tighten. “Quentin…” she whispered. He stood close behind her, tall and steady. “They selected four paintings this year. Yours was one of them.”

There was a tornado sweeping over everyone and I made a shade over my eyes with my palm. I squinted, desperately looking for Alruin and I found him right in the middle of the storm. My eyes searched for Chase and the others, but I saw Marla and Priscilla, forming a protective shield against Alruin. Priscilla’s eyes met mine and hers glowed mischievously. She glanced one more time at Alruin, whose eyes were completely white now, and grinned.

Aiden looks like he might be sick, while Jasper and Marcus both look pissed. I turn back to Zahra just as she stands up straight, and I finally see what they’re staring at. Her back is covered in angry red and white scars, crisscrossing into a horrible lattice over her skin. My stomach churns at the sight. I knew her father had hurt her, but this is the first time I’m seeing the damage with my own eyes. I watch the realization dawn in her expression, and the look on her face nearly breaks me. Stepping forward, I try to ease her anxiety, wanting to brush this off for her sake. “Hey, little one. It’s good to see you enjoying yourself after this morning. How are you feeling?”

“Or something close to it.” She opened the door. We stepped into a narrow room, darker than the last. The air felt colder here. Heavier. Celia reached for the curtains again. Light filled the space. I froze. The walls were covered. Portraits. Of me. I took a step back, my breath shallow. “What is this?” Celia watched me carefully. “Look closely.” I did. The first painting showed a little girl with scraped knees and wild hair. I recognized the scar on her chin instantly. I had gotten it climbing the old watchtower near the southern barracks.

No matter how distrustful they were of him, no one would dare challenge him. Nebraska sighed, she had no choice. She turned around and pulled her blouse over her head covering her chest but exposing her back, specifically, the horrible large tooth scar that refused to fade. A moan came from the mouth of some and Hades had to squeeze their hands and hold himself in place so as not to go out to where she was. How much had she been hurt so that a wound like that wasn't healing? And more with the skill of the wolf that was next to him, which he looked at and he responded with a movement of the head.