Scarred Book Mga Nobela at Kwento

The wound is still here, and I know that it's opening again. I touched the scars on my chest, near my heart. I winced as soon as I felt my scar in my chest. Until no, I still don’t know what really happened, or what caused this wound of mine. School Accident, that's what he told me. I don't know, but I did not believe in him. I was about to go the garden when my phone beeped. … +639********* to Tatiana: Hey. I hope you are doing good. I talked to someone about your condition.

I took up the book I was holding, and strolled out of the sitting room without returning. I shut the door behind me and leant on it a moment. Not crying. Not shaking. Just breathing slowly. I still had the image of Jake and Cassandra in my head, but this time it no longer seemed like a knife. It was something foreign to me. Something that did not belong to me. I went back to the bed, sat down and again opened my book. The words were still there. The same page. The same lines. I read them this time round. No tears. No anger. No memories interrupting me.

It was old, but the pain it must have caused was evident. "It must have hurt," I murmured, my fingers tracing the raised edges of the scar. His body tensed, a flicker of fear in his eyes. I just felt like I could connect with him so much after seeing this. His scar was physical, but my own scars, though invisible, ran just as deep. I bent my head, pressing a soft kiss against the scarred flesh, a silent apology for the pain he had endured.

He was stronger than he appeared, relentless, because he took small, determined steps toward me, head down, pushing against my wall of wind, his resolve unwavering. I was so intensely focused on Limpy, on maintaining the wind barrier, that I didn't see Scar, the grey alpha, circling back, running silently toward me from my flank. He knocked me off my feet with a brutal impact, his giant head hitting me hard in the side. I heard a loud crack, a sickening sound that echoed in the night, and I knew instantly, with a cold certainty, that I had broken a rib. Sending a healing spell, a desperate surge of magic, through my body, I tried to get to my feet, to regain my footing, but Scar was on me on

The Adversary Dark Prince (POV) When people notice the jagged scar on my arm, their eyes often widen with worry, and they jump to conclusions that are far from the truth. It's a common reaction, especially in a world where scars usually hint at pain or violence. But this scar tells a different story—it's not a sign of suffering; it's a symbol of something beautiful and meaningful in my life. Each curve and line of the scar represents resilience and a deep bond that has lasted through challenges, showing that not all scars are reminders of hurt. Instead, it reminds me of love and the strength I've gained along my journey.

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.

I could feel his member pushing on my thigh through the jeans. He lifted me up slightly removing my shirt. His eyes widened as he saw the scar covering from my shoulder to the bottom of my ribs. I had forgotten about it in the moment. I could sense his anger rolling off him as he focused on the imperfections of my body. He leaned in and kissed me passionately. I felt his bare chest press against mine as my body gushed, soaking my panties. A deep groan came from his chest as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

, I came out of my car and I wasn’t surprised when Scarlett came out wearing a long face. “You bitch!” She said as she walked towards me. “Can we do this later, I got work. Thank you” I said dryly and made to enter my car but she was fast to touch me by my hand. I quickly removed her hand from my body like it was a plague and looked at her angrily. “Never in your life, I repeat, never touch me with that hand you uses to give my dad a hand job” Scarlett looked pretty embarrassed as I said that but she was quick to cover it up with a scoff.

"What, is Mom not as important as some junk locket? You know what happens if her condition worsens." "I know." I cut him off, my voice cracking as I crouched on the floor. "No one knows better than me when she loses it." My old scars burned as I recalled it. Like a volatile child, she'd speak kindly one moment, and the next, brand me with a hot poker. The smell of scorched flesh haunted my nightmares. Andre fell silent, knowing how diligently I had cared for Evelyn, but a moment later, he hardened again. "I got it, you don't want her to get better."

I blinked, and tears burned behind them. Freckles dusted the bridge of my nose, small and faded, things I used to like before everyone else convinced me they were flaws. My skin wasn’t flawless either; faint acne scars dotted my cheeks. I touched my reflection lightly, tracing my fingers down the glass as if I could feel the warmth of another version of myself, one who wasn’t afraid to exist. “You’re beautiful,” Luna whispered in my head, her voice tender and firm. “Stop looking at yourself through their eyes.”