Scars By I Am They Novels & Stories

I never liked people getting too close to me. It might have been my survival instincts and trust issues, but I'm used to people being cruel. With both my parents gone, years of surviving as a lone wolf taught me to expect only the worst in humans. Kindness isn't something I see every day. Scar watches me as I wrap up the cuts around my hand with a white cloth. As his name says, he has quite a glaring scar that runs from his left eye to the side of his jaw. His bare chest shows numerous tattoos and battle marks. A leather belt hangs on his waist, securing a pair of cargo pants.

Is that I cannot find the place in myself to argue with it. I am too tired. I have been too tired for so long. And Irina is saying out loud, in this marble bathroom, in this warm and reasonable and devastated voice, exactly what my own head has been telling me since I was fifteen years old standing in front of a different mirror in a different house trying to breathe through a different kind of panic. You are your father’s weapon. Whatever you build is performance. The scars are the truest thing about you and everyone who matters has now seen them and understood.

My daughter, Amelia Rossum, comes home with her palm pierced all the way through by a pencil. I drop my mop in a panic, hastily change out of my loungewear, and rush her to the ER. At the hospital entrance, my husband, Benedict Rossum, jumps out of his car and immediately lashes out at me. "How could you let this happen to her?" Our neighbor, Lorelei Bates, trails behind him, holding her daughter's hand. She addresses him gently, "Benedict, don't be so hard on Clarissa. Everyone makes mistakes." He scoffs. "Other mothers can keep their kids safe perfectly fine. What's her excuse? I bet she did this on purpose to guilt me into coming home early!" Amelia recoils and hides behind me. Seei

Zara burst into tears and covers her face. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s horrible. It hurts so much. Please. I need to be alone.” Ariadne tries to calm her but Zara continues to cry and seeing how traumatized and wrecked she was, everyone left her alone. Ari turn back to look at her to make sure that she was alright but she knew the scar inhabiting her physical and mental form would takes time to heal. At least if she wants some time to be alone, then why not.

Ann replied. “ I became your friend before she became your acquaintance, so you should definitely take mine too” Richard said. “Although you bullied me into becoming friends with you, I guess I could take yours too” Ann smirked. “ Wow, I hope you haven't forgotten who you are speaking to” Richard said. “ How can I forget a friend?” Ann said with sarcasm. “ Why do I get this scary feeling that I just walked into a sinking sand?” Richard said faking a shiver.

The girl in the mirror standing opposite me was a girl broken and recombined with the improper pieces. "Pathetic," I muttered to myself. And I grinned. Cold, empty thing that it was, with no regard for the girl that once was me. Because what I discovered, Jake and Cassandra didn't kill me. Victoria didn't, either. They just provided justification for waking the hell up. I removed my makeup and cotton brushes wiped away like discarding the old me. I looked again and caught sight of something new in my eyes. Peace of anger. Hunger. "No more tears," I told myself. "Time they're sorry for all of this."

"Shouldn't you say something else?" "Should I?" He patted his hair as he looked at her with a tilted smile. "Take a bath and I'll help you with your injuries." She said. "Imogen would heal it overtime." He said. "But there'll be scars..you shouldn't leave scars all over your body." She shook her head. "Scars are a mark of victories." "Not today's scars." She moved closer to him, "These are marks of distraction." She whispered and raisedd her brows, her eyes brightening like the sun. Xandros's expression darkened as he stared at her.

Intensifying my desire and causing me to throb with anticipation; my arousal growing even more intense and my longing becoming increasingly evident. ‘She is ready to mate with us!’ Spartacus urges. ‘No, she is not prepared to take us yet. We need her relaxed and stretched out. So we don't hurt her when we finally get to knot her.” I groan. As I explore every inch of her skin, I tenderly kiss and caress each of her scars, proving to her that they do not define her. Instead, they are a testament to her strength and resilience. With each gentle touch, I am reminding her that she is beautiful and worthy of love, regardless of what battles she has faced. These scars are a part of her story, and I

The firelight dances over our faces, showing the deep feeling in our eyes. “I need you to know something, Xander,” I begin nervously, clutching a small charm that has been with me through many problems. “Every scar on my skin, every wound, it tells a story—a story of pain, loss, and sometimes, hope. But I fear that some of these scars... they might break us apart if we allow them.” Xander’s eyes soften, and he takes my hand in his. “Aria, those scars are proof of your survival. They are signs that you’ve survived pain and still stand here, stronger than ever. They don’t define you...they improve you.”

“Scars set you apart from everyone else. They don’t ruin your identity; they give you a unique identity. I will make you fall in love with everything about yourself like I do. I will kiss your scars so many times that when you see them — the first thing that comes to your mind is not the scar, but our memories they hold. I will leave my permanent marks in your mind — in your memories. So that before you say you love me, you can proudly say you love yourself more.” There was some depth in his voice, some bewitchment in his words. Nothing and no one had ever made me as impatient as he did. I slid his pants to his ankles. His words were too much for me to handle, too cruel to my heart. Stroking