Scarred Novels & Stories

"Didn't know she would murder my parents? Didn't know she would steal my entire legacy? Or didn't know she would humiliate me in front of the world?" Clark was speechless. "Or," I continued, "did you know all along and just chose to look the other way?" "No! I really didn't know—" "Then what about this?" I turned my back to him and unfastened the top of my tunic. A gruesome scar ran from my left shoulder to my right hip. The eclipse curse had turned it a sickly silver-black, and it still seemed to writhe slowly, eating away at my life force. Clark's breath hitched.

Please let me not have imagined that look, that scent, that pull that has never gone away no matter how hard I tried to bury it. My snout brushes warm skin and my stomach twists violently. I hesitate. Just for a second. Fear grips me hard enough that my paws feel unsteady, because once I see it, I cannot unsee it. Once I know, there is no taking it back. Either this shatters me or it holds me together, and I am suddenly terrified of both outcomes. I shove the shirt higher. And then I see it. The scar. Jagged and faded, pale against his ribs, old and unmistakable. A bullet wound that never healed right, twisted slightly like the memory of pain refused to fade completely. A mark burned into my

“Relax. She’s not worth the energy. I’m just happy you’re back, Mira.” Mira blinked, her expression softening for the first time. “You missed me?” “Like hell I did,” Scarlet said sarcastically, but her tone cracked. “The room was too damn quiet without you.” Mira chuckled ... that wicked, carefree sound Scarlet had missed so much. But then something strange happened. The bruises that painted Mira’s skin ... the ones that looked deep, fresh, painful ... began to fade. One by one, the angry welts melted away, leaving her skin smooth and flawless.

His muscles were hard-edged, his skin bronzed by the sun, and the thick hair on his chest tapered down into a dangerously low waistband. Then I saw it. On the left side of his chest, right over his heart, was a jagged, ugly scar. It wasn't from a claw or a blade. It was a Rejection Scar. When an Alpha rejects a fated mate, his own wolf often tries to tear the heart out of the body in grief. "Sit," I commanded, my voice cracking slightly before I regained my ice-cold composure.

Her clothes were torn and there were claw marks and bite wounds all over her, the worst of which was a claw mark that traveled from her left collarbone to her right hip. Luckily it didn’t appear too deep, and someone had soaked it with a herb poultice, as if to help it heal. " I will help you." Scar said as she muttered some words placing her hand on the wound , she looked at it but her chants weren't doing justice. She repeated again and again before Hazel told her to stop

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?!"

Each scar held a story—a story of struggle, survival, and triumph. Deep admired these marks, not with regret or sorrow, but with a sense of reverence. They were reminders of his journey—a journey that tested his strength and perseverance. They symbolized moments of challenge and resilience, etched into his skin like chapters in a book. With every faded line, he saw a testament to his body's remarkable ability to heal, a silent declaration of overcoming adversity. These scars were symbols of battles fought and won, of hurdles crossed and lessons learned. They were not just marks on his skin; they were emblems of resilience and courage.

Marco sneered, lunging at me and tearing at my clothes. I fought back with everything I had, trying to buy myself time. Thanks to all the chores Bianca used to make me do, I was stronger than I looked. For a moment, Marco couldn't overpower me. He cursed, his movements becoming rougher. Just as my strength was about to give out— BOOM! With a massive crash, the solid hotel room door was kicked off its hinges, wood splinters flying everywhere. Caspian appeared in the doorway like a god of vengeance, radiating a fury that promised hell.

He took a box beside the stuffed toy. “This is the ring that I bought after finishing an assignment in Sibayan. I still remember how it brought me excitement and joy when I purchased it.” His eyes were smiling as he reminisced the scene. He carefully opened the small box, there revealed a yellow gold ring adorned with a fully grown flower situated in the middle. It was so pretty. It matches perfectly to a young woman like her. “I have no idea that I couldn't give this to you. Instead, this is what I recieved.” Her orbs stared at a certain scar engraved on his arm. It was a long mark. A very apparent one at that. Just as she thought, written on his arm was her name. “But I'm here, Miguel. Yo

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.