Scars Novels & Stories

"Don, the knife work was lethal. If you'd truly meant to kill me, I wouldn't be here breathing." A flicker of madness in Wade's eyes froze for a split second before he erupted into a wild laugh. His laughter twisted the scars on his face into something even more sinister. Out of nowhere, he lunged and clamped down on my wrist. His grip was so strong I thought my bones might snap as he tried to shake me off. However, the moment his fingers brushed the inside of my wrist, he froze. There, an ugly burn scar marred my skin. It was an old wound, shaped like a scorched butterfly.

"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.

“No… I didn’t even know I could heal someone else until today. I never thought about using it on myself.” Joshua leaned forward a bit. “Wouldn’t it be worth trying, though? If you can do it, that scar could fade. Just like that.” I looked down at my lap, my hands clenched together. “I don’t know if it’ll work,” I said quietly. “Scars are… different. They’re not open wounds. They’re old pain.” “But pain is still pain, isn’t it?” Jasmine added gently. Thania reached across the table, placing her hand over mine. “It won’t hurt to try. And if it doesn’t work, we’ll still love you just the same. You’re beautiful with or without it, Violeta.”

The scab on the wound had fallen off, leaving a faint pink mark. Remembering that day, I sighed softly and took out the scar removal cream, carefully applying it to the wound. The cream had a faint, pleasant medicinal scent that I liked. The bottle was pure white, small and exquisite, with no label indicating its origin or name. It looked more like a private formulation. Wendy's words echoed in my ears. She was tireless in trying to introduce me to potential boyfriends. While her words might be exaggerated, they weren't completely made up.

“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.

A smile of a devil. He hold out a hand and then reached for her face. He caresses her small pale face with his big palm and long fingers. He touched and tapped her cheek gently with his thumb. It was cold. Her face was cold and she was close to having frostbite. He frowned at the texture. It was unpleasant to touch. His thumb went to her lips next. He rubbed it and instead of feeling the soft, delicate, and plump feeling he always felt before, his thumb felt a whole different texture. It was rough as sandpaper but as his finger wandered, he touched a sticky liquid.

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.

She had grown into a breathtaking woman, more stunning than even he could have imagined her. And he had done just that. For years after he did what he did, he had kept away from her, while simultaneously fighting the urge to see her again. Curiosity was a painful thing to endure, and he kept wondering what she would look like now, and whether anything would change over the years. Time healed all wounds, and he had hoped that the scar he left on her would have healed by then. Wounds heal, but scars remain with us for life. "Look at you," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "You look even more beautiful than I remember."

His t-shirt was torn, bruises and cuts all over his body. Tears carelessly rolled down Elena's cheeks as she look at Luke. She screamed and cried, Luke not responding. "You would not do anything, Conor!" the woman yelled, walking towards Conor. She looked at Elena and then shook her head. "Enough." "Oh, Rose," he smirked. "Don't get into this. Just stay out of it." Oh, she was Rose. Elena immediately felt the urge to hate her. "I will not!" She yelled. "Just stop it. It's been years, Conor."

Flora was contemplating. She was aware that if she let the guide help her apply the sunscreen lotions on her back, he would see the ugly scar she had from a flat iron Lambert had once pressed on her. It had been years, but the scar it left would still be visible. It hurt like hell during those times as she had no one to help her. She couldn't reach the spot with her hands to apply meds on it, so the scar it left was quite noticeable with the shape of a flat iron that the edges of the scar now have fibrous connective tissues. With the healthy pink skin tone that Flora has, the scar was visible and easy to identify what caused the burn.