Novel & Cerita Scarred Emily Mcintire

And most of all — the vivid scar slashed across his throat, ugly and raw, proof of what had been taken from him… and proof he had clawed his way back from the grave. Emily’s breath caught, her tears spilling fresh as her body trembled. It was him. Rhett Maddox. Returned for vengeance. Her breath hitched, caught somewhere between a sob and a scream. Rhett. The scar across his throat was all the proof she needed, the brutal mark of the night she’d lost him. She remembered holding his hand in the hospital, screaming for him to wake up, begging the doctors not to give up. She remembered the funeral, the coffin, the way the dirt hit the lid like a drumbeat against her ribs. She remembered how her

I lay her down and look at Emily "Is she okay Em?" "Surprisingly, yes, she is exhausted and a lot of it is just surface bruising, cuts and scratches, maybe a broken or fractured rib or two, but otherwise, physically, she is fine. It is how she comes back from it in her mind that has me a little worried. She has more or less been a prisoner for over twenty years, so it may take a little time for her to adjust back into the family, but then Scarlett loves proving everyone wrong."

resilience to live. She swallowed as her eyes slid down my chest like she was seeing the scars for the first time. Some of the marks were long and thin from contraband blades behind bars. A few of them were round from gunshots and knives, one in my side, one in my back, one now in my arm and lower rib, and another an inch away from my heart, which was the scar Emily drew her fingers across. The touch made my skin crawl but was warm nonetheless. "No. He's just seen me much worse than this."

“Yes. Emily Hart died. Scarlett Blackwood was born.” He moved to the side. The doctor stepped forward. He held a mirror in front of me. I looked at my reflection. A stranger wrapped in white looked back. I could not see Emily anywhere. Victor leaned down close to my ear. His whisper was like a law. Something that could not be broken. “Welcome to your new life, Scarlett. Never forget. You belong to me now.” --- “Scarlett.” My name no longer felt strange. Emily was gone. She was hidden under weeks of surgery and healing. Victor had poured fire into me. I sat in front of the mirror. I brushed my black hair. Slow and steady strokes. A knock came on my door. It was deep and heavy.

She dropped her scarf only a little as she whispered; “Michael, it’s me, Emily.” And as soon as the words escaped her lips, I froze again. “It’s impossible!” “Is it?” She joked, showing her pearly white teeth. From here I could see the scars on the right side of her face. They ran from her forehead down to her neck and managed to turn her once porcelain skin into something you only saw in horror movies. They were not fully healed yet and gave off this offensive odor that had me almost punching my nostrils together in disgust.

Colt or should she even call him that? He has crossed all the lines of a teacher. There was nothing left between them as a teacher and student thing. He has destroyed that relationship and all she can feel towards him was pure detest. Standing in front of the mirror Emma gazed at herself. A large handprint was forming a blue bruise on her arm. But today her eyes hesitantly wander to the scar on her lower ribs and the upper side of her stomach. Three long claw marks. The pink second skin looked hideous but it was there and she could do nothing to remove these marks. A constant reminder of her tragic past and a constant reminder of her parents' death.

Emily tapped the table hard, her mouth sarcastic, "Oh? You think I've wronged you? Don't you have a scar on your belly? Who who is a woman doesn't know that it's a C-section scar, Serena, if you're really going to give me a sophistry at this point, you'd better be honest about where you've been hiding this child." "Emily, I do have a scar on my stomach, but it's from an operation I had in college."

Carson, an international tradesman, declared, his tone firm yet edged with a nervous energy. “We agreed on 100,000,” Emily interjected smoothly, taking a deliberate sip of her tea. The faint clink of the porcelain against her lips punctuated the tension in the air. Her face, once unmarred, now bore two scars shaped like tears that ran down her cheeks—a mark burned into her flesh by Hound himself, a visible symbol of her unwavering devotion. “That was before I understood the real value of the ether herb,” Carson countered, shrugging with an air of feigned indifference. “It’s not exactly popular on the mainland, you know.”

She watched as her tears gushed over her wounded face making the scars more visible as the makeup were washed off by her salty and bitter tears. “This place isn't safe. No it is not. Come inside, my husband might be watching our discussion. ” Emily who was a bit paranoid of her environment quickly dragged her into the car and slammed the car door shut. She stepped on the brakes and drove a little further down the street where every possibilities of her husband sighting her would be eliminated. Once that was down, she changed her car gear system to park, sighed and laid her head on the chair. “This scars are all because of him! That monster!”

Emily squint her eyes in a dangerous way and stand in front of him even though he is a six foot two giant, she don't care. " Listen Mr parole officer, I don't care who you are. Like you said, I am a criminal then you should know how dangerous I can be", Emily threatens him to make him scared or quit pestering her but instead he just smile. Emily groan inwardly, covering her face with her bruised hand. Lucas looks at her arm as the sleeve roll down when she raise her arm, he is intensely staringat the old scars and fresh gashes on Emily's arm. Most of them are inflicted on her arms by herself.