Painted Scars By Neva Altaj Novels & Stories

The only people missing were Dux and Drake Keeler and Briley Cross: she’d had the babies four days before, so travel was out for them. And then Scars turned around to look at her too, and suddenly all of her attention was on him: everyone else just disappeared as she met his gaze. Those eyes blazed out of his hard, scarred face and they held her whole and complete; they always had. For about the millionth time, she mused at those little patches of perfect blue in a heart-achingly damaged face, and she realized that his eyes were the exact color of the horizon over the mountains. It was like a piece of sky had just fallen to earth, and landed on Scars’ face, as bright and beautiful as the vie

She was draped in heavy linens, her arms and shoulders encased in thick bandages soaked in a pungent mixture of aloe, coal-tar, and medicinal oils. The pain was no longer a sharp scream; it had settled into a rhythmic, pulsing throb that felt as if her bones were trying to vibrate out of her skin. The "Light-Burns" were unlike any injury the doctors had ever seen. They didn't char the flesh; they crystallized it. Beneath the bandages, her skin bore patterns of translucent, violet-white scarring that looked like the delicate frost-feathers on a winter windowpane.

Adir approached Altar to discuss the things that happened to them both. “How are we going to deal with it tomorrow?” asked Adir nervously. Arion didn't want to go to bed, choosing to listen to their conversation tonight. The lanterns of the night lights were dim, the sound of snoring Nicon's was loud, the mosquitoes bothering them sleeping around. “I still haven't thought of that,” Altar replied as he looked up at the roof of the sky which was filled with sacred carvings of gods. Patterns and paintings look brown because they are exposed to light that does not shine well, illuminating the entire room.

I looked over his shoulder at the scene in front. Alexei had Alessandro on his knees, the latter clutching his arm tightly where the bullet hit him as his hatred-filled eyes glared at Alexei. Alexei stood towering over him without any gun but a small pocket blade in his hand yet he looked maliciously evil. Eyes fuming flames, chest rising up and down with lips turned in a cruel smirk. Who said the devil was an evil, ugly monster, with scars all around? The blood that she’d from those scars many uncanny paintings. And now when I arranged those paintings, like pieces of a puzzle, I saw a beautiful, broken man, hidden behind those ugly scars.

“These aren’t marks of shame. They’re proof you fought back. Proof you chose freedom over power.” “They’re ugly.” “They’re honest.” Alina traced one of the scars with her finger. “I have scars too. From childbirth. From battles. From the grey wolf that nearly killed me. They’re all ugly. And they’re all part of who I am.” “Do you wish they weren’t there?” “Sometimes. But they remind me I survived. That’s worth keeping.” Lena wanted to believe her. Wanted to see the scars as badges instead of failures. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

Liziwe said not a word, but continued to stare unblinkingly, her mouth set in a firm, downward line. The month of confinement had not been kind. Her face had grown sallow and drawn; her bright eyes dull. The blow to her cheek had only begun to heal, leaving a shining, ripe scar in its place. It drew the eye, and made Susan cringe to look at it. And though one day it might fade, it could never be erased entirely: for there, upon her face, she would carry the reminder of that day, forever and always.

I forgot. Miss, whoever she is, looked at me shockingly but there's a hint of familiarity and sadness in her eyes. As I stared at her, I realized she really looked so weird and no offense, ugly. There's a huge birthmark that covered her left forehead, down to her eye and her ear. There's also a huge mole on the lower right side of her mouth. To top everything off, she has a lot of pimples, acne scars and blackheads. This girl needs help.

My skin crawled seeing the pairs of eyes, all with the same familiar color piercing into my skin, boring into my soul and making me want to hide my face. Each painting was in a different shade but those eyes remained the same, an endless pit of darkness waiting to crawl up the surface. “Why…why are there so many?” I finally asked, locking eyes with one peculiar painting. The Alpha looked younger in that one, his hair was long and held up by a pink hair tie above his head. The pink hair band contrasted every other hard feature he possessed. His face was bruised all over and the intricate lines of his hurt skin were painted in detail.

The natural waist dropped into a sheer fabric with flowers stitched into it. The scars have relaxed and really created a pretty chain-link pattern. Although our wolves really worked on healing me, they are just now calming down and looking like regular scars. I have grown accustom to them to the point that I want to get them tattooed. As a symbol of my strength and determination to not let evil win. Soft music was playing as I paced around this tent. The only thing I knew about this event was the smell of lilacs. “Ready?” Colt lifted the side and stepped in.

In the afternoon, the campus forum was once again hijacked by a mysterious person. Posts about Neve being a hypocrite flooded the forum, not only detailing the way she had been bullying Jade but also explaining why Jade hadn't visited Leah—which was because Neve had stopped her from entering the house. They even posted photos of her rejecting the supplements Jade had brought, revealing her vile side. Everyone saw the scars on Jade's arms from when Neve had burned her with a cigarette during their childhood, along with various other pieces of evidence that shocked the netizens.