Peerless Scarred Novels & Stories

She knew the round, luscious tits she’d dreamed of were never to be. Uneven, the right sitting lower than the left. The nipples nowhere near where they should be. The scars ugly, red, weeping. Her pale flesh still carrying the jagged memory of those clumsy stitches. Twin gashes of red spanning her rib cage, reminding her forever of how desperate and lost she was.

He didn't look up immediately, leaving Amara standing awkwardly, a pawn awaiting her move. This time, Amara noticed something she hadn't seen in the shadows of their first encounter. As he shifted slightly, turning a page, the light caught the side of his neck, just below his ear, before disappearing beneath his collar. A prominent scar. It was a jagged, uneven line, deep and old, the kind of scar that bespoke a brutal, desperate struggle. It wasn't the thin line above his eyebrow; this was far more significant, almost certainly from a knife or a bullet.

Scarlett gazed at the striking man before her, his soul-piercing emerald eyes drawing her in. With midnight hair, a chiseled jawline, and sensuous thin lips, his appearance was nearly flawless. The only thing that marred his perfection was a scar above his left brow that trailed down to his cheekbone. But even that added to his devilish beauty, giving him a somewhat intimidating, yet sexy, allure.

It was an enchanting presentation of 'food. “Oh, right! She made me lose focus!” James pointed out, making Jay slightly uncomfortable because he suddenly leaned over his desk. “Crystal Zetaruby.” Jay read the name as if he was considering it. “As beautiful as the person, right? But look… at the scar.” Jay followed James' index finger. A streak of scars, shaped like dry, red leaves, adorned the middle of his nose's bridge. “She has an eternal disease. Prurigo, sweet blood, means he probably has a lot of scars. Are you okay?"

Sadly , the paste have little to no effect on the scars that is left behind. I take my bottom lip between my teeth , and I gentle nibble on it. While doing that , I twist my neck as far to the left as I can do to have a look at the scars on my back. I hear my self whimper as I see my peach cream like skin , decorated with hideous revolting scars that are painted all over my back. It looks so appalling that I doubt I could ever wear a dress that shows my bare back again. I let out a painful sigh , just glad that all that is scarred is my back.

There was no scar. ​She stared at the unblemished skin, a deep frown touching her brow. In the chaotic future she had left behind, Julian Cross was a legendary, untouchable figure—a man whose very name commanded terror in the lawless sectors. Yet, she distinctly remembered seeing a horrific, jagged, twisting scar running from his collarbone down to his shoulder blade. It looked like a wound from a violent blast, the kind of injury that should have left a man crippled, though he carried it like armor.

“Not just good – amazing.” “One hundred percent amazing,” Jo said solemnly. “Thought so.” Scars held out a huge hand and she took it, felt the raised skin there. Without even looking, Jo knew that he had more scars on his hands and briefly wondered what he must look like under his jeans and blue t-shirt and cut: she’d heard from Jinx that the fire had burned Scars so badly, he’d needed reconstructive skin grafting on his back and legs. “It’s a pleasure, Jo.”

I passed out naked, bloody, and alone but free; after ten years, I was free. I had just done the unthinkable. I completed the rejection ritual marking myself as a mate rejecter, a pariah in my community. I not only rejected my mate but my old pack. My whole identity to that point – was gone. I was now scarred, no longer marked. Now, I carry the black scar created by the silver blade, and I reject the mate made just for me by the goddess. The cursed life of a "Scarred One" is what I must look forward to now. The sense of loss was foreboding. Was what I lost the only cost for my freedom from my mate bond?

Only I know how these looks of pity feel . No one knows....you may call scars beautiful but you know the one who actually has them. Knows deep somewhere in their heart, how ugly they look. Something which was so perfect, something so flawless that every one envied it. Was now just an object of pity. The skin which was perfect once, is tarnished now. And you know the worst part? No matter what you do. It will never....be like it was before. What's lost can never return. Sulking ,she didn't realised when the sun was down from the horizon and it was dark.

Marcus stepped behind her pushing the wheel chair out of the ward. Scar is seated on the bed wrapped in a duvet,she looks pale and weak with eye bags. Marcus set the camera facing her properly,her scars that made her look formerly dangerous now made her look vulnerable,like someone beaten down by life,a number of times. “Good day guys,I'm Scar ,yeah that's how I remember my name, though people call me Lisa but I don't feel connected to it” She coughed, Marcus passed her a handkerchief,her hands trembled as she collected it,she coughed into it,her body trembling as she coughed,she raised her tears filled eyes, sniffing softly.