Novel & Cerita Scarred

Saadiya had suffered a cut to her left arm but it wasn't anything serious, Parvina was attending to her. She looked at Omar and tried to steady her heavy breathing, he had ripped off his throbe and now left with a loose and very transparent under shirt which was no longer white but red and it perfectly outlined his very built muscles, his perspiration having soaked through them, Mariam stared at him for a while until he gave her a thumbs up and she blinked rapidly to clear her head. Focus Mariam, she told herself. He smiled at her and she smiled back but he couldn't clearly see her smile from the distance between them because of the cloth that hid her lower face so she nodded.

I SURVIVED Don't ever be ashamed of the scars life has left you with. A scars mean a hurt is over and the wound is close. It means you conquered the pain , learned a lesson, grew stronger and move forward. A scar is a tattoo of triumph to be proud of . Don't allow your scars to hold you hostage. Don't allow them to make you live your life in fear. You can't make scars in your life disappear , but you can change the way you see them. You can start seeing your scars as a. Sign of strength and not of pain. ---

Lauren gazed into the mirror as she peeled off her clothes, not wanting to miss a single sight of it. The once white bandages that had been wrapped on her back now had a hue of red. She sighed and even when she knew it would earn her scolding from Malcolm, she slowly peeled the bandage off her back closing her eyes at the gory sight that greeted her. Her eyes teared. She didn’t believe it was this bad. And Bryan had seen it too? It made her sob more. She didn’t want him to end up having trauma because of her. She was used to it after all.

Like I have two dimples when I smile while Emily has two but one is not that deep. I have a small birthmark just above my navel, which Emily doesn't have. When I went out two days ago to meet up with Maddie at Starbucks, people were congratulating me on my wedding. I was too embarrassed to say I'm not the one getting married but my twin. Nobody will believe me, anyway. So I thanked them and smiled politely at them. At the mall, when we went shopping for wedding gifts, someone congratulated me, and I told him I wasn't the one he never believed me.

Flora was contemplating. She was aware that if she let the guide help her apply the sunscreen lotions on her back, he would see the ugly scar she had from a flat iron Lambert had once pressed on her. It had been years, but the scar it left would still be visible. It hurt like hell during those times as she had no one to help her. She couldn't reach the spot with her hands to apply meds on it, so the scar it left was quite noticeable with the shape of a flat iron that the edges of the scar now have fibrous connective tissues. With the healthy pink skin tone that Flora has, the scar was visible and easy to identify what caused the burn.

Third Person's POV "Ulrik," her voice raspy and pained, her breath still foul, "why did you scar my face?" "The word 'Bitch' was carved into your cheek with wolfsbane. I had to cut it out or you'd wear it forever," Ulrik's tone was icy, masking the turmoil within. Scarring his mate brought immense inner pain. His wolf curled up, whimpering, but he had no choice. "Those bastards," Velda cursed. "Solanke, I'll kill you!"

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.

“They’ll kill us without a second thought, we shouldn’t let them get away either.” Malric nodded, “He’s right,” he concurred, his smoked-gold eyes suddenly peered at me, “Are you alright?” I nodded, “I’m good.” I hesitated to ask, but I couldn’t help it when I saw a bloody scar on his left arm. “What about you?” He shrugged, “It’s just a scar. Nothing that can’t heal in a couple of hours.” Miguel suddenly chuckled and asked me, “Do you two know each other?” he asked suddenly and my heart froze. “You speak like you’ve met Alpha Malric before, Alruin.”

The sound of glass shattering explodes through the room. We all jerk and see Scar, his hand, bleeding. He’s crushed the wine glass in his bare palm. Blood drips down onto the table. But it’s his eyes that freeze me. Dark not just with anger. Not just with pain. But with something deeper. Hatred.