Scars By James Bay Novels & Stories

Dylan glided across the room like a man from two or three millennia past, his body so full and real she reveled in the pleasure of watching him move, the need to have him in her still urgent yet paused, her appreciation for the perfection of his form like an artist’s eye for beauty. Yet he wasn’t perfect. Scattered scars spoke to a childhood and adolescence of outdoor exploration, and she gasped when he turned and she saw an enormous, jagged line running down his back. “What’s that?” she asked as he quietly locked the door. “On your back.” The scar was an angry, foot-long keloid welt that seemed so incongruously positioned compared to the rest of him. It stretched a good three or four inches

I feel like there are so many new memories, great memories even, and yet I still find myself holding on to the awful memories. I suppose scars are never truly erased. The initial wound scabs over, and then you’re left with a scar that fades with time, but remains as a reminder of what you’ve gone through. “You can tell me I was awful, Rosalind. You can scream at me and get it all off your chest,” James squeezes my hand, “I’ll take it a hundred times over because I deserve it.” “That’s not the type of person I am.”

He just peeled off his hoodie, leaving on a worn cotton shirt with a faded logo on the chest and sat down on the edge of the bed like it was sacred ground. When Elena sat beside him, her hand found his without thinking. She guided his fingers to her shoulder—the one with the thin, pale scar that curled beneath the seam of her shirt. She pushed the fabric away slowly and placed his hand there. Her heart thundered, but her hand didn’t shake. “This,” she said, her voice quiet but strong, “used to make me feel ashamed.” Jack traced the line gently, then leaned in and kissed the scar. “It doesn’t have to anymore,” he murmured.

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. ---

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Elena nodded as she made her way out of the sick bay. Her steps were slow, as she hoped to not see June in the hallway. She successfully got out of the school’s building, not meeting June or anybody she knew. She spotted Daniel waving his hands, leaning on his car. He was wearing a white hoodie with the words ‘the moon is beautiful’ written in italics printed on it. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his dark jeans, one leg extended showing off the matching sneakers he and Elena were wearing.

" 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