Scars Novel Amelie And Gideon Read Online Free 소설 & 이야기

His brow furrowed, and he reached up suddenly, wincing as his hand grazed his side. “You’re hurt.” “It’s nothing.” “Gideon.” Gideon didn’t argue again, just sighed and walked toward the armchair by the fire, unbuckling the leather bracers at his arms, then the strap across his chest. I turned slightly, facing the window so Gideon had privacy—but my eyes flicked back. And promptly forgot how to breathe. His tunic was half-peeled off, soaked through with sweat and clinging to the lines of his back. Muscles, yes, of course—but what stunned me more was the damage. Scars.

And right now, her presence was undoing me in a way nothing else ever had. Amelia moved with purpose, stripping away my clothes like they offended her, and maybe they did—those clothes were a costume, worn for people who'd never loved me. But with every button undone, every sleeve peeled away, I felt less like a mannequin and more like a man. Her man. And God, I wanted to feel that way longer than this moment. She pressed her lips to the jagged scar along my abdomen—one from surgery, post-accident—and I flinched, not from pain but from the sheer fact that someone could touch that place and not recoil. That someone could see it and not be reminded of everything I’d lost.

He suddenly felt thirsty in his throat and subconsciously touched it with his fingers. Amelia's body suddenly stiffened and moved. He reacted and quickly found the burnt area. In fact, the scars were quite obvious when he looked at them closely. There were also faint scars connected to the back of the neck. "Are you still using the scar removal cream I asked Gio to give you? He asked softly with a trembling voice. Looking at the scars on her body, he couldn't help but think of the way she tried to save him regardless of her own safety. It was so frightening and even more distressing.

We seem to be in the burnt-out shell of a house; someone has lit a small campfire, and I can smell what I think might be old tins of beans cooking slowly. “What happened?” I ask Gideon softly as I reach under the t-shirts to grab his hand with mine; as I do, I feel something lumpy and thick against my skin. I slowly lift the shirt to see Gideon is half-covering a long scar right above my pubic bone; it's raised, bright pink and quiet, possibly the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Well, I’m going to love you until I can melt those scars away.” My head turns toward him. The intensity in his eyes makes my chest tighten with emotions I don’t even have names for. His hand slides to my face, caressing me gently. “Your skin is perfect either way, but I’m going to love you until you forget you have these at all.” His calloused but soft hand settles possessively on my thigh. “Goddamn! I can feel the tension! You’re not alone here, you know!” Dash shouts. Embarrassed, I straighten up immediately.

"Take it." One of the other men was already rifling through my jacket, pulling out my phone, my wallet. "Nice phone," he commented, scrolling through it. "Password?" "Go to hell." He shrugged and smashed it against my car's hood. The screen shattered, pieces of glass and metal scattering across the concrete. "Like I said," Scarface repeated, pocketing my watch. "Nothing personal. But stay away from things that don't belong to you." They climbed back into their sedan and drove off, leaving me standing in my driveway, bleeding from a dozen small cuts from the broken glass.

"Sorry, did I scare you? I promise, you'll never see scum like that around here again." To thank him, I accepted his invitation to an art exhibition at his private estate that weekend. On Saturday night, Dorian had a gift box delivered. Inside was a deep purple velvet gown. It was exquisitely tailored, with a high neck and long sleeves that perfectly concealed the old, fading scars on my body, while still accentuating my waist. I stroked the soft fabric, my eyes welling up. Gavin had traced my scars with sadness, but he was never this thoughtful. I never dared tell him how much they bothered me. It was a weakness the Godfather’s wife wasn't allowed to have.

a student said it loud enough for her to hear and there was laughter everywhere. “Why would she even come back here?”A girl whispered, loud enough for people to hear. “Even the ugliest thing in the world is more presentable than her.” There was laughter, they weren't so loud to the hearing of the teachers and principal, but their piercing eyes said everything. “She thinks using the scarf to cover her scars will help anything, maybe she should have been burnt in the fire,” a student mocked. “I heard she screamed for hours during the fire and half her hair is gone”, another student echoed

Her gasp echoed through the silence of the room as she beheld the gruesome scars etched across her chest, disappearing beneath the shadows of her nightgown. Amani's trembling hands moved instinctively, hastily discarding the nightgown to reveal her scar-ridden body in all its disfigured glory. She stood there, vulnerable and exposed, as she stared at her own reflection in horror. Her chest and torso bore a multitude of intersecting scars, a painful reminder of the brutal attack she had endured.

“You told me once you were addicted to my face. Said it was your drug. Well… it’s gone now. Just scars. So please—go find someone whole.” “I’m so sorry, Jake…” Ariana choked out. “Sorry?” I laughed bitterly, my head shaking. “I wish sorry could fix it.” And then—something warm touched me. A hand. Small. Soft. Real. It was Liz. I knew how her hands felt. “Jake…” Her voice was soft, trembling. Her eyes were dripping with tears, but she didn’t look away. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t disgusted. She was just… there. She touched my scars like they were nothing, tracing them without being disgusted.