Quotes About Emotional Scars Novels & Stories

What if I have to carry the reminder of my time with that monster forever. I hadn’t realized that Liam had stopped brushing my hair until he gently takes hold of my chin and turns my face to look at him. “Scars are nothing more than proof that you are stronger than you know. They show that you have lived through difficult times but you’re still here, still fighting. Don’t be ashamed of your scars. You should wear them proudly. Not many could have survived what you did.” I nod my head at him and go back to washing as he continues to brush out my hair. The water begins to cool and he starts to let it out, turning on the faucet and adding more hot water as the cooler water runs out of the tub,

I’m in the exact place I always went when I disappeared. Will Khai come looking for me down here, in this place that resembles his nightmare… or will he leave me? I wouldn’t blame him if he did. This isn’t the first place I would choose to come along too, even if it meant I would help find a missing loved one. I guess emotional scars last the longest. Yeah, a physical scar can hurt when it’s fresh and even longer in a bruise or mark afterwards, but eventually it fades into a meaningless mark that resembles an ordeal.

What if I have to carry the reminder of my time with that monster forever. I hadn’t realized that Liam had stopped brushing my hair until he gently takes hold of my chin and turns my face to look at him. “Scars are nothing more than proof that you are stronger than you know. They show that you have lived through difficult times but you’re still here, still fighting. Don’t be ashamed of your scars. You should wear them proudly. Not many could have survived what you did.” I nod my head at him and go back to washing as he continues to brush out my hair. The water begins to cool and he starts to let it out, turning on the faucet and adding more hot water as the cooler water runs out of the tub,

His tone had its never changing deep seductive touch. I smiled back as brightly as I could. Quinn gave me a long stare then he dropped the food he was carrying and walked over to me. “My guess is you are admiring your combat souvenirs.” His fingers crawled up to touch my face. “Whatever you think is the problem with it… get it off your mind. Every scar on your body represents how hard you have tried to survive; to give your son a life. Get back at the man who ruined the first one you had. When you look at these... marks, I want you to be proud of them. Don't let them make you sad. There is nothing bad about them.

I said. Avim was a man who hid behind a mask of anger, just like Artemy. But deep inside, they all cared. I brought my hand up and placed it on his cheek, right over the scar. He flinched but didn’t move away. “You hide behind your scars. You use them as a barrier, thinking that they would keep people away. It worked, didn’t it?” “Rebecca,” he said, his voice filled with pain. “You think they’re ugly. You think they represent a weakness. But they don’t. Your scars represent your strength,” I said, Lynda’s words rolled off my tongue. I hoped that they would have the same effect on Avim as they had on me.

"But I know I have people who rely on me." "That was just the past, Cole. So can we just forget about it?" He was still looking at me with concern. "Things like that don't just go away, Ray." His eyes looked down at the scars on my chest. "It's like a scar..." He rubbed his thumb over my skin. "Scars are ugly and disgraceful... But no matter what we do, the scars won't go away." His eyes lifted to meet my gaze. "So we learn to live with them."

Eles’ shoulders sag with relief, acceptance, and defeat. Lifting her arms, she holds them out in front of her, slowly turning them as she takes her time to look at the scars tainting her skin. “I guess I should wear my scars like armour. They physically don’t hurt me, but on the odd occasion, they can mentally fuck me over.” She groans with irritation as she lowers her arms and stares at the ground. “May I ask you something deeply personal?” “Yeah… sure.” “Have you ever had this feeling that shit’s about to hit the fan, Val?”

“They’re from… different times.” I smiled a little. “Yeah, that’s how scars work.” He gave a quiet laugh barely there, but real. “The one on my wrist,” he said after a moment, “that’s from when I thought love meant holding on too tight. The one on my shoulder that’s from when I thought I could fix someone. And the one on my ribs…” He paused. “That’s from when I stopped believing in anything.” My hand slowed. “Have you ever thought about covering them up?”

Then he added “Is it worth it, this big risk? Does the revenge worth it” “He took my parents, and my sister. I am alone, just me, only me against the world. What’s life without the ones our heart has always known how to love. I will kill him. Even if revenge is the last thing I do before I die” “I understand your pain, yeah, we all have wounds in our hearts, we all have scars, you should try to get over it,” I sniffed, I sniffed again, and again then I bursted into deep tears, whimpering my chest heaving. “Those scars can’t heal, it’s so painful”. He leaned forward and circled his hands over me. I cried in his chest, in his embrace.

Or simply the quiet joy of being alive. "Let me see you," she said, reaching for his shirt. He allowed her to undress him, his body emerging from the layers of leather and wool. The scars on his chest caught the light, silver lines on bronze skin. She traced them with her fingers, each one a story, each one a battle survived. He shivered beneath her touch. "You are beautiful," she said. "I am scarred." "So am I." She pressed her palm flat against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "Scars are not ugly. They are proof that we did not break."