Precious Scars Novels & Stories

A burn of pain ripped through my face as she dragged the sharp tip of the scissors down the unscarred side of my face, engraving a thick line from my hairline down to my jaw. I screamed in pain as blood began to pour down my pain. "Rest in pieces, Darcy." I lay there, feeling my life slip away, too drained to even cry. I may have lived my whole life with a horribly scarred face and been branded a monster, but that day, I realized that there were people worse than monsters.

She had grown into a breathtaking woman, more stunning than even he could have imagined her. And he had done just that. For years after he did what he did, he had kept away from her, while simultaneously fighting the urge to see her again. Curiosity was a painful thing to endure, and he kept wondering what she would look like now, and whether anything would change over the years. Time healed all wounds, and he had hoped that the scar he left on her would have healed by then. Wounds heal, but scars remain with us for life. "Look at you," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "You look even more beautiful than I remember."

Layla scrambled back in terror, but it was too late. My claws ripped her dress, revealing the pale skin of her back. It was smooth. Flawless. There was no scar. And Myrna... Myrna had a hideous scar running from her left shoulder to her right hip. The scar I had touched a thousand times, but never once asked where it came from. "Moon Goddess," I collapsed. "What have I done?" "You regret it now?" Layla sat on the floor, her eyes filled with malicious glee. "It's too late, Clark. It's far too late."

Michele's voice pulled me back to reality. "If she hadn't left all those years ago, the woman at my side would be a gambler. How could it be an angel like you? Tomorrow is our 99th day together, and I'm putting the most profitable strip club in Vallasia under your name." Michele looked at Barbara with complete indulgence and pinched her cheek playfully. Barbara laughed softly and leaned in to kiss him. A sudden, stabbing pain tore through my side, forcing a sharp gasp from me. It was the scar I had carried for five years, left behind when I sold a kidney just to stay alive after I failed to repay my loan.

The kind that happens when something enters a room that nobody was prepared for. I go still. I don’t look at anyone. I stare at the wall directly in front of me and I breathe, slowly, through my nose, and I feel the air on my back and I know exactly what they can see and I don’t move a single muscle. The scars don’t lie. They never have. They’re not the clean, faded kind that can be explained away as childhood accidents or a medical procedure. They’re the kind that have a story, and the story is ugly, and every woman in this room is currently reading it whether they want to or not.

“I don’t understand how they can be so mean Dr Neill, I work so hard on campus. I’m captain of the netball club; I started the glamour girls club to give us girls more confidence.” Jenny rambles on about her activities as Dr Neill’s mind begins to wander. Today is a significant day for the doctor, today is the eighth anniversary of his son’s disappearance. “Dr Neill?” He is abruptly pulled from his daydream. “Yes of course Jenny” An alarm goes off on Dr Neil’s phone. “We will have to continue this matter on your next session Jenny.

"Yeah, I just saw the news. Miranda made it into the orchestra and became Mr. Fraiche's student. She's so impressive." "She really is. Not only is she beautiful and plays the piano wonderfully, but she also has this childhood sweetheart, the heir of Menzie Corporation. They've grown up together. During her speech earlier, she even mentioned that boyfriend of hers!" "Wow, sounds like something out of a fairy tale!" The two nurses laughed as they walked out of the room. I watched them leave, and the doctor's helpless sigh echoed in my mind. "What a shame. You're such a beautiful young woman... but what happened to those hands?"

“You told me once you were addicted to my face. Said it was your drug. Well… it’s gone now. Just scars. So please—go find someone whole.” “I’m so sorry, Jake…” Ariana choked out. “Sorry?” I laughed bitterly, my head shaking. “I wish sorry could fix it.” And then—something warm touched me. A hand. Small. Soft. Real. It was Liz. I knew how her hands felt. “Jake…” Her voice was soft, trembling. Her eyes were dripping with tears, but she didn’t look away. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t disgusted. She was just… there. She touched my scars like they were nothing, tracing them without being disgusted.

One was in the bathtub and the others were assisting her in her bath. Agnes silently let them scrub her back and wash her body. She sat in the bathtub without moving and letting them do their work. After a while, they made her stand and dressed her up. She felt like she was in an 80's movie that features the life of royalty. Agnes watched her bare self in the reflection of the mirror. The scars that fade away was now replaced by a new and fresh one. Her eyes wandered around her body until they found the oldest one near her stomach.

I guess that’s why I have my scar, a reminder of the fact that I’ll never be as strong as I need to be. As strong as I want to be. Maybe I deserve the scar…. I-i know I deserve my scar it’s all my fault. I… I need to search the body. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, collected the supplies and got to my feet, stumbling backwards as my backpack settled on my shoulders.