Scarred の小説・ストーリー

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. ---

A few Months Ago. Scarlett. Beta David dragged me across the floor by my hair. The pain on my scalp was incredible. My eyes stung with tears. I tried to blink them away; I tried very hard, but they won and started flowing freely. My skin scraped the ground, and the harsh stony sand scraped my bare skin. I wasn't even allowed to mourn my father's death when they were ready to do away with me.

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.

, 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.

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.

She asked curiously but something doesn't add up. I mean I have asked him about the scars and he insinuated that it was BDSM gone wrong and honestly I didn't think much of it because that was when we just lost our parents and he was a little rebellious at that point but I still think she got the wrong guy... I mean now I understand why she fled immediately she saw him shirtless but anyone could have a similar scar, right?

The scarred earth beneath them seemed to absorb the weight of their shared history, creating a space where words could convey the complex emotions they both felt. Seraphina turned to Adrian, her scarlet hair catching the morning light. "The scars we bear should be symbols of growth, not reminders of pain. Let our reunion be a testament to the resilience of love and the enduring power of hope." Adrian embraced her, the scars on his back, earned in battles past, now a tactile reminder of the journey they'd undertaken together. "Seraphina, our reunion may be shaped by scars, but let these scars tell a story of triumph over adversity, of love prevailing against al

before the door opened and boy I am not expecting what I witnessed Scar is a girl with pixie cut black hair with brown eyes. She has a nose ring and she have tatoos all over her right arm. I know staring is rude but I can not help it. I did not expect that she will look like this. I smiled so wide I am sure she can see my wisdom tooth and shouted at the same time hug her. *weird side activated* "You are so awesome! Are you Scar? Oh my gosh! Does it hurt when you were inked? Can I have one too?!"

“You didn’t have to step in like that.” Adrian stepped closer, eyes scanning my face. “He could have hurt you.” I crossed my arms, masking my vulnerability with stubborn defiance. “And even if he did, what would that have meant for your pack? Nothing. You weren’t supposed to interfere.” Adrian shrugged, the gesture casual, but there was a sharp edge to his voice. “It would have meant you weren’t properly trained in my pack.” The words stung. Whether intentional or not, they cut deeper than he likely realized.

He held his phone and watched the video all night long. The next morning, when he looked in the mirror, he saw a man who looked like a vagrant—unshaven, haggard, and lifeless. He stared at his own reflection and muttered bitterly, "You deserve this." … On the day of my wedding, all my college classmates showed up, including Tristan. At first, I was worried he would cause trouble again. I didn't want to be disturbed by him anymore. Even with my good temper, I couldn't stand being constantly tangled up in his drama.