Scars In The Hand Of Jesus Novels & Stories

The Adversary Dark Prince (POV) When people notice the jagged scar on my arm, their eyes often widen with worry, and they jump to conclusions that are far from the truth. It's a common reaction, especially in a world where scars usually hint at pain or violence. But this scar tells a different story—it's not a sign of suffering; it's a symbol of something beautiful and meaningful in my life. Each curve and line of the scar represents resilience and a deep bond that has lasted through challenges, showing that not all scars are reminders of hurt. Instead, it reminds me of love and the strength I've gained along my journey.

"What, is Mom not as important as some junk locket? You know what happens if her condition worsens." "I know." I cut him off, my voice cracking as I crouched on the floor. "No one knows better than me when she loses it." My old scars burned as I recalled it. Like a volatile child, she'd speak kindly one moment, and the next, brand me with a hot poker. The smell of scorched flesh haunted my nightmares. Andre fell silent, knowing how diligently I had cared for Evelyn, but a moment later, he hardened again. "I got it, you don't want her to get better."

Every Alpha on the ice plains held their breath. Silas's ashes withdrew from the edges of Marcus's boots. He extended his hand. Palm facing up. The Lily of the Valley mark gleamed with a faint, pale gold light in the snow-glare. Then he turned his hand over. Back of the hand facing up. That hand had been shattered three hundred years ago. When the back of his skull had been cracked open, he had fallen to the ground. The back of his hand had been shredded by broken stone. When the wound healed, it left a scar. Impossibly fine. Extending from the web of his thumb to his wrist. He held that old scar toward Marcus.

Truth be told, my movements had eased, my touch becoming gentler as I struggled to reconcile my duty with my growing awareness of him. I mumbled an apology and continued to wash, applying more pressure. I washed his hands, shoulders, chest, my hands faltering for a moment as I peered at the scars there. There were so many of them, each one telling a story of pain and suffering. Some looked like burns, others were probably slashes from swords and claws, and the rest... I had trouble making them out. Whatever happened to him to leave him with this amount of scars? I wondered, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Skyla's hand fled to her chest when she had a glimpse of his fully naked upper body. His body was badly bruised and had scars all over it! Skyla exclaimed, "I thought one deep scar might be responsible for all of this…" With that she lifted her eyes to gape at his blood covering the ground before getting back her gaze at his chest and then his abs. She continued in her mind, "But there are scars all over his body! It's impossible for me to conceal all of them! This doesn't look like an animal attack! I don't see any person would have done this much harm to me after all he seems strong enough to face whatever comes his way!" Skyla's eyes got teary and her heart got heavy on seeing the amount

He leans back on the bench, closing his eyes to take in the freshness, allowing the sweet morning sun to bathe him, his face shining under the direct sun's rays. As he moves his hands to cross them on his broad chest, I look at the scars behind his palms. They have healed, but the marks are still there. They will take time to disappear, like the wound in his heart will take time to heal. Just like I nursed the wounds on his hands, I will do what I can to help him heal the one in his heart. If not for anything, just for the simple reason that he is the saviour of my life, my black messiah, because I don't know where I would be right now if he didn't buy me. A weird encounter it was, but good

I focused on my fingers, rubbing the scars left from the surgery, then flexed them, repeating the exercises to regain flexibility and strength. As I continued to work on my hand, the water around me suddenly began to glow, and I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder where Xander’s mark was. At the same time, my broken hand started to burn with an unexpected heat, causing me to gasp in shock. I quickly lifted my hand out of the water, shaking it fervently to try and get rid of the pain.

I had stopped chewing the second I saw him walking towards me, my cheeks still full, preventing me from speaking words. Jacopo looked down at his phone, and my eyes instantly zoomed in on the scars on the inside of his hands. Jacopo wasn't wearing his usual black leather gloves, exposing what they hid underneath. The scar stretched up the inside of his hands, and it disappeared into the left sleeve of his clothes. I lifted my eyes to his face, openly staring at the scar that left him disfigured. I wondered what he looked like before the thing that happened to him, if he was less cranky and angry all the time, if he smiled even once a day...

“Not just good – amazing.” “One hundred percent amazing,” Jo said solemnly. “Thought so.” Scars held out a huge hand and she took it, felt the raised skin there. Without even looking, Jo knew that he had more scars on his hands and briefly wondered what he must look like under his jeans and blue t-shirt and cut: she’d heard from Jinx that the fire had burned Scars so badly, he’d needed reconstructive skin grafting on his back and legs. “It’s a pleasure, Jo.”

However, the scar on his chest caught her attention. She had seen the scar before in the rental house, but when she asked him about it, he said it was just "a small injury". Even though the scar was shallow now, it did not look like it was "a small injury" at all when he got it. As if noticing where she was looking, he suddenly grabbed her hand and pressed it against his scar. She was surprised and instinctively tried to retract her hand, but his fingers held her hand in a firm grip like they were steel bars, forcing her to keep pressing her hand against the scar.