Novel & Cerita Scarred

"The ball is in your court. It still won't change the fact that I've scarred her for life. And neither you nor anyone else on this planet can undo what has been done." Adnan left him to bleed on the floor, taking his mother by the hand and pulling her out of the room. "Get your things," he said. "We're leaving." Her tears were silent. She'd thought that Yusuf would never again possess the power to make her cry. It was all she'd done during the early days of her marriage. But now, her tears weren't for her. She wept instead for what could have been. Her tears were those of remorse. She'd failed. As a mother and as a wife. To hear him say the things he'd said, s

She watched as he frowned at the button , his chiseled face was like a sculpture, he had thick and roughly carved brows she felt like running her hands on them. He had a well carved beards which had evidence of not been shaved for a while, they where prickly but also tickled wherever his face brushed her arm. The lock of hair that had been on his forehead head was now brushing his eyes, Ann had the strongest urge to brush it from his eyes and indeed they did feel marvelously silky. Oh on! She had touched it, and now he was looking at her. But this time not only did he look frustrated, there was something else, it wasn't there before and it reminded her of the day at the library.

His t-shirt was torn, bruises and cuts all over his body. Tears carelessly rolled down Elena's cheeks as she look at Luke. She screamed and cried, Luke not responding. "You would not do anything, Conor!" the woman yelled, walking towards Conor. She looked at Elena and then shook her head. "Enough." "Oh, Rose," he smirked. "Don't get into this. Just stay out of it." Oh, she was Rose. Elena immediately felt the urge to hate her. "I will not!" She yelled. "Just stop it. It's been years, Conor."

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.

- Riven I run my finger down the length of my wound, which is already starting to scar. The only thing that leaves me concerned is the fact that it still aches after all this time. I don’t know what that bitch Kera used to try and take me down, but whatever it is, it’s leaving a lasting effect.

Scar whispers, pulling at his hair and making his way into the bathroom attached to his tiny room, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Scar's hair just wasn't satisfying his urge to feel something. He was disappointed in himself, he was acting like a reckless teenager and the worst of it was he didn't even know how old she was! What if she were a minor? What if Scar was thinking these unholy thoughts about a teenager? Scar clawed at his wrists breaking the skin on them once again. He grunted and moaned out in pain. Scar felt good, it felt good when he felt something - even if that something was pain. Scar could feel the tears running down his face, he had officially lost it... again.

I corrected, and let the scarf fall off my shoulder enough to remind him I know how to wear beauty and threat in the same line. The first three came dirty, which I expected, and quiet, which pleased me. Men who mouth off in the first ten minutes don’t know how to live through a second hour. Scar’s shift stuck in his hands—claws that wouldn’t fully retract so he kept cutting himself when he tried to button his jacket. Lina had an ear half-healed in a way that told me she’d ripped it in a chain-link fence and no one had taught her how to make the change slow enough to finish the repair. Hobb twitched when he heard the river, because defective wolves always think moving water is laughter when i

Gently, slowly, he guided her hand up and down her body, ran their fingers along each and every scar. He left the largest one for last, knowing that this was the one that frightened and disgusted her the most. That asshole had sliced her from her breastbone straight down the middle of her body, all the way to her navel. The scar was thick and raised, an angry, vivid purple, and every time she looked at it, she remembered how terrified she had been at that moment. She'd truly thought he was going to gut her like a fish; she'd thought she was going to die.

A doctor ran a few quick tests, frowning as he scrolled through the results. “Miss,” he said, brows drawn tight. “You really should’ve taken better care of yourself. The stitches have torn open, and the wound looks infected.” “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I didn’t think it was that serious.” The doctor sighed and handed me a clipboard. “We’ll need to operate. Emergency surgery to remove the infected tissue. It’s standard. But we’ll need a signature—from you, or from someone responsible for you.” I hesitated. Tom was already in Italy, settling in.

The scar that ended Vivian Klein completely to leave a broken shell. The scar that is nothing but a painful memory now. . . . . The memory of a lost miracle.