Novel & Cerita Scared Vs Scarred

Nobody cares. "Go Scarlett. I will be fine." Stella almost pushed her into me. Was she scared of me? "Are you scared?" I asked her. "Why the hell I would be scared of you?" She asked me. "I don't know." I shrugged. "It's just I never learn to leave people when they need you the most. I know how it feels like." She paused, "To leave after all is not the same as being left. Isn't it?" She asked me.

I asked softly as a painful whine escaped Ares' wolf mouth as if telling me he had been in pain when the scar was inflicted. Somehow, I could understand him. I could almost feel its emotions. Anger, fear, pain and a sudden calm as if it had started to relax around me but it conflicted with its fear. Why would it be scared? I wasn't going to hurt it. "I'm sorry." I whispered as I drew to my knees, running my finger through each scar. Some looked like bruises from being hit with something heavy while some were like sharp objects had been used on it, leaving long jagged scars. Some scars were so deep that only a few fur covered it like it hadn't healed completely.

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."

What he said about how she broke him, and how he’s scared I’ll do the same. I should feel wounded, insulted, maybe. But I don’t, not really. I know what fear looks like in a man like him who’s used to blood and war, not softness. What he gave me today wasn’t a wound, it was a wound opening. He trusted me enough to let me see what bleeds inside him. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that I’m not afraid of his scars. I want them, all of them. I want him.

My words trembled at the edges, barely louder than a whisper. "When the competition started, someone attacked me. They warned me not to win," I added, lowering my gaze as my legs began to tremble. Fear was crawling its way up my spine, one slow inch at a time. The memory of those eyes—cold, threatening—flashed across my mind. "I can’t shake the feeling that it’s connected to that pack."

Scarlett didn't know if she would be able to take anymore without shattering. Words had always done the damage worse than a physical wound.Growing up, she learnt to live with it, she believed it had stopped affecting her but today, everything attacked altogether. It had managed to hurt her in a way she never thought it would. Maybe because it's related to her friend and Lucian.Maybe she is afraid of herself as well.

The silence was louder than any argument. We worked for another hour. Clean. Professional. Agonizing. Every time his hand moved across the page I watched his knuckles – still scarred, still bruised – and thought about those same hands on my skin two nights ago and wanted to scream. At the end of the session, he packed up his books. Slowly. Deliberately. Then he looked at me. "You're scared." "I'm being smart." "No." He slung his bag over his shoulder. Those grey eyes steady, seeing everything I was trying to hide. "You're being safe. There's a difference."

Elena laughed through tears immediately. “You’re talking to someone the size of a bean.” “Important bean.” Fair. God. Several quiet moments passed while rain softened outside. Then Elena whispered carefully: “Are you scared?” Silence. Then honestly: “Yes.” God. He looked up toward her slowly. “But not in the old way.” God. That physically settled into her chest. Because once, fear meant running. Withdrawal. Now fear simply meant the future mattered deeply. Elena touched his face gently. “I’m scared too.”

The visible scar is easily spotted and either fades over time or heals but leaves a mark. Then there is the dangerous kind of scars that creep up on you. The kind of scars that unleash a monster you never knew existed ... I call them abstract scars . Betrayal, deceit, heart break, heartache , teasing , bullying , abuse and stuff we choose to internalise in order not to appear weak ... That leaves scars .