Quotes On Emotional Scars Novels & Stories

He noticed my discomfort and raised an eyebrow at me and asked very simply “why do you hide your scars from me?” “Because, I do not want to see the love in your eyes for me slowly fade away” I replied, he picked up my hands and gently pulled up the sleeve just above my wrists and he kissed the scars. “ I would never love you less, beauty is only skin deep and your beauty is much more deeper; it shines from within you my angel; these scars will vanish, but my love and respect for you and what you have put yourself through for our safety has only increased and it will keep growing and flourishing.”

This way you wouldn’t have to put up with me… Yes. You should just lie down and accept that you’re going to get torn to pieces by those monsters, how fitting of an end it is. I mean your family did cut into you and throw you away like you were the dirt on the bottom of their shoes, they wanted you to be bait. They wanted you dead. In their defence I would have done the exact same. That’s exactly what that scar means it’s why you should give up. You were meant to die when they used you. My eyes sting as tears and sweat enter them, I should give up. It would be better for everyone if I just stopped trying. Is that what I should do? Give up? Like a coward?

I matured too early because the damage was too heavy. I have scars decorated all over my body, perhaps I should get more tattoos to cover my scars, but can I show my vulnerability in other to cover it?, Can I open my scars in order to close it?. Even if I get tattoos, the scars run deep, deeper than even I can think. It is sad, the way I'm broken, how damaged I am. My filth disgusts me, my scent irritates me, my ways annoy me, my image is a shame, my hatred for myself grows deeper day by day. Despite knowing the things I do, the wrong things I do, I can't stop, I'm addicted to evil, to bad, to darkness.

“People keep avoiding me because of this scar on my face and men won't stop rejecting me because of it too. Isn't it enough reason to get worked up, huh?” “I have told you countless times not to concern yourself with what people say or do because of the scar on your face.” she said, taking my hand in hers. “We are humans, and it's in our nature to speak. So, people will always make ugly comments about the scar on your face.” “You keep saying that.” I said, my eyes burning with tears. “However, you have no idea how I feel. No matter how much I try to explain it to you, there's no way you'll understand how it feels to have this scar on my face. It's killing me.”

Her tears soaking into his shoulder while he murmured soft reassurances against her hair. "I thought I was broken," she whispered when she could speak again. "Thought all these marks meant I was damaged beyond repair. That no one would want me once they saw how much I'd been hurt." "You're not broken." Carlos pulled back enough to look at her, his hands framing her face. "You're scarred. There's a difference. Broken means can't function. Scarred means survived something that tried to destroy you and kept going anyway. And that's not weakness. That's the strongest thing I've ever witnessed."

“Don’t worry, it will heal soon.” Jackie stepped back, a hurricane of emotions rising inside her—love, fear, regret, exhaustion, the heavy weight of battle. She grabbed a vase and threw it against the wall. Tiny shards of porcelain scattered across the floor, and Jackie fell to her knees, sobbing loudly. “You don’t understand! I was injured with a blade cursed by a dark witch. My scars will stay forever.” She screamed, her voice breaking, “I WOULD STAY UGLY. JUST REJECT ME!”

“I felt like a monster that broke my mum’s beautiful marriage though she never blamed me” She held my lips with her right hand. “You are not,” she whispered, shaking her head. Our eyes locked. “Neither do you, Miss Glasses. Believe me,” I responded sharply. She quietly removed her hand from my mouth and looked away to the window. “My mum always told me, back when I was ashamed of the scar, that our scars make us beautiful and different,” I snapped. “They show that we can overcome anything—if we accept them and flaunt them the way we like.”

I thought it would end the years-long hatred she harboured in her heart for me, but, oh boy, was I wrong. The scar no longer hurt, but the emotional trauma I suffered was unforgettable. A shudder ran down my spine as the memories flooded back to me. I bit my lower lip. Crying was a waste of time and energy, and to be honest, my tears had dried up a long time ago. Yet the memories made me wince.

I choke out the last word, feeling the sting of fresh tears threatening to spill over again. Luna Allison surprises me with how quickly she snaps into action. Her grip tightens as she turns me to face her, her voice stern and unyielding. “No, you are not! I never want to hear you say that again, Zahra Larkin.” Her eyes bore into mine, full of fierce love and strength. “You are beautiful—inside and out. You’re the kindest, funniest, cleverest, and bravest girl I know. Those scars on your back? They show how strong you are. They don’t define you, and they sure as hell won’t limit you. They tell the world that you’re a survivor, Zahra.” Her words hit me hard, and for a moment, I’m just stunned

I was caught in a strange kind of madness, unable to escape. “Your scar is a sign of your past, just like mine,” he whispered. “But it's not a sign of weakness. It's a reminder of what you've been through, and how you've come out stronger on the other side. Never be ashamed of your scars - they make you who you are.” Finally, he brought his face to mine and I could see the dark, intense passion that flickered across them as he stared at me.