Scars By James Bay Novels & Stories

" She... She re-opened dad's case? Why? Isn't she the one who told me that I should stop fighting against that invisible enemy of us? Why would she... Do this?" I stood up even if I feel like I would fall in any moment. I accidentally passed by a mirror and saw my scar. The memories that I buried six feet under the ground starts to flash like a flood. The screams in pain, the culprit's laugh, dad's cry in pain, our maids' shouts, and my cries. God, I need to stop this again. If this kept on flashing back, I'll lost myself again. And I don't want that to happen.

“Well of course they are. They’re all weird and puckered and even if they fade they don’t completely go away. They’re always there. A constant reminder of how much life sucked. And I know under these casts I’ve got even more new scars. I don’t know how you can possibly still find me attractive. I’m going to look like a poorly stitched rag doll…” Scott put down his plate and pulled Rayan into his lap, cradling him close. “Rayan, I love you. Including all your scars. Each one tells the story of how strong you are. They’re proof that you’ve overcome all the horrible things life has thrown at you, and survived.” “But I didn’t have any major-life-stuff scars before this?” “Rayan… I know you don’t

Dread fills me as I wake on the morning of our annual Moon Festival, it will be the first time we all will be going down to the pond and just the thought of it for the past month as made me ill every morning. I flush the toilet after vomiting again and stand to look at myself in the mirror. I refused to remove most of my scars, I have repaired my breast nipple and removed the letters carved into my skin, but the rest lay prominently on me, a reminder of just how strong I am and how fucking much I will make that bastard pay. I undress and turn on the shower as Braddock walks in, "hmmm, I do have good timing," he smiles at me as I step inside.

Confusion etches upon my forehead in form of a frown. “ It heals scars. All kinds. ” She points toward my right wrist which is turning almost blue now. I look at my wrist and take the balm from her hand. She gives me a nod and walks out of the room, leaving me to stare at the balm. Scars. I look at my wrist, feeling like I can still smell my skin burning furiously. It was gruesome. Elijah is mad and now he has lost me so he is going to do something again soon. I have to find a way to put an end to his madness and cruelty.

Taking deep breaths, she asked James to back her and told him to pull off his shirt which he did and she gasped when she saw his back. There were multiple surgery scars that James didn’t have before. There was much that she felt alarmed about. “What is this James? What happened to you?” Amanda blurred out while staring at the scars. James turned the moment he heard her question, she caught her gaze as she looked at his back and he smiled wryly. "It's not pretty, is it?" He asked and helped himself raise the shirt over his shoulder with his left hand as he wore it Amanda remained frozen, staring at James even after he turned to face her. Her mind ran with so many questions, James never had su

Damien chuckled a bit. “Nobody cares about your scars, mate. With or without them, you are beautiful inside and out. Scars are not signs of weakness; instead, they are a sign that you survived something horrific. I don’t know what happened in the Midnight Pack, but I am sure you would have died, but here you are, alive with only scars to show what you went through,” he said, and I kept quiet.

Unable to speak, I slowly nodded my head and traced his toned abs which were visible through his black fitted shirt. “Wanna feel them, skin to skin?” His lips curved up and I looked away. Skilfully, he removed his shirt and I almost forgot to breathe when his naked chest came into my view, the Greek God in human flesh was sitting next to me. He had toned abs and scarred skin, it left no to imagination. He had won many battles, ditched death multiple times because who scars looked old. My fingers traced them very delicately. “They remind me of who I am and what is expected from me. My scars are my trophy, they motivate me to learn from the past and reshape my present as I wish.” He said and g

At 3:47 PM, my neck started burning. Not painful at first. Just hot. Feverish. I touched it, and the skin was raised. The scar. My heart hammered. I stood too quickly, chair rolling back. “You okay?” James asked. “Fine. Bathroom.” I walked calmly until the bathroom door closed. Then I ran to the mirror, lifted my hair, and turned. The scar was glowing. Soft, eerie light emanates from the seven carved into my skin. And it was hot. Burning from the inside.

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.

I smiled at him before walking past him and into the bathroom, stripping and reaching for my suit before shaking as the reality of the situation hit me. I would be next to naked in front of James, my scars on full display. I was comfortable around Ezra because he was also scarred and understood my trauma and discomfort about it all...James was not. Could not understand what I was going through. As empathetic as he was, this was something he could not understand. But I knew he wasn’t someone to judge, he would not make me feel ugly or disfigured. I knew he would stare, anyone would at first, but I was sure he wouldn’t make an issue out of it. I sighed and shook my head of the thoughts and tug