Scars Novels & Stories

But if felt powerful whatever it was. As I walked out of Josie’s room, I saw Adam carrying Jenna from Sarah’s room. Concerned I moved forward, “What happened?” I asked looking at Jenna sleeping in Adam’s arms. He mind-links me on our private channel, “Jenna started healing Sarah,” he replies. “She can do that?” I ask knowing Sarah was full of scarring and open wounds. Healing scars would be a deal changer. Scarring tends to be painful not only to heal but long term. The scars pull the skin and are a constant reminder of whatever caused the scar. In Sarah’s situation, it would be a constant reminder of the torture that had

His blood boiled and his wolf seeked exit. "I believe that there are some creams used for fading scars" Chris said. He wasn't used to treat beings who were not of his kind and werewolves had the ability to heal quickly so there was no need to have any creams like that in his possession. "But it'll take awhile" Chris added, earning a growl of disapproval from Zephyr. He hated to see those scars on her skin and he wanted them gone immediately. "Ah, I know..." Chris started excitedly but paused midway as though he said something he wasn't supposed to say.

She remembered being told that it wasn’t her fault. She remembered seeing a tall guy standing beside Jace’s grave, his back towards her. He was probably his younger brother whom she never had a chance to meet. She remembered everything. She looked down at the scar on her forearm, there were a few scars on her body that left marks. They reminded her of that horrible night. The one on her forehead was nearly invisible now, but the rest were the same. They didn’t hurt but the memories did, the nightmares did. Her older sister had been her support in all of this, her sister, her parents, Faith, and all her friends.

“Sit or I'll make you.” I smile, knowing not to test his threat because he would follow through and carefully walk over, trying not to wince in pain as every step felt like I was stepping on glass. Sitting down, Scar kneels in front of me, carefully lifting one of my feet up, takes out a small knife and slices his palm and rubs the blood over my wounds. Using his healing blood magic it soaks into my skin, the cuts and blisters slowly fading away until they disappear completely. Returning my foot back to the soft pale slightly pink color. Picking up the other foot he repeats the process, healing it back to its healthy state. I sigh in relief as the stinging pain subsides until the pain is co

He started patting my back gently and I soon relaxed into his hold. I breathed in his scent and it sort of calmed my raging and turbulent soul. All the confusion I felt earlier began to dissipate and I leaned into his hold. "Nathan?" I called against his chest. "Yes, my Luna," he answered. "I thought getting healed from the scars on my body was going to put an end to my problems," I began. Nathan moved his hands into my hair and began to play with it by running his fingers through it. "I had no idea that the scars only changed their original position. . ." I trailed. "From my skin to my soul," I muttered. "And every day, it gets

I confirm. “Well, it would help me to visualize the scar if we can turn him onto his stomach. It’s been found that extra virgin olive oil can be sprayed onto a scar and it will illuminate it in various intensities based on the thickness of scarring. The brightest shade is normal skin, areas that don’t illuminate under the black light are really thick scar tissue and there are levels in between both.” “Cole?” I attempt to include him. “Will it hurt?”

Amara stared back, trying to project a semblance of stillness, refusing to betray the sheer terror gripping her. ​Emiliano stared at her for a long, silent moment, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be assessing her, her fear, her presence in his bed. He slowly walked around the bed, stopping on his side. ​He reached up, pulling his undershirt over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Amara couldn't breathe. Her gaze involuntarily dropped, taking in the powerful breadth of his chest, the taut lines of his abdomen, and the faint, intricate scars—silent trophies of a violent life—that crisscrossed his left shoulder.

As the doctor is Arthur's personal doctor, she didn’t want to go on his bad side. "Your body will heal in a week, but the scars on this scar cannot be removed in a week. It will take at least 15 days to heal them. However, you can use makeup to cover these scars. Models usually use heavy makeup during photo shoots." The doctor told her Hearing the doctor's words, she looked at him angrily and said, "I didn't ask you to give me your suggestion. I want to remove these scars on my body naturally. I don't want to cover these scars with makeup and I don't use much makeup

I never liked people getting too close to me. It might have been my survival instincts and trust issues, but I'm used to people being cruel. With both my parents gone, years of surviving as a lone wolf taught me to expect only the worst in humans. Kindness isn't something I see every day. Scar watches me as I wrap up the cuts around my hand with a white cloth. As his name says, he has quite a glaring scar that runs from his left eye to the side of his jaw. His bare chest shows numerous tattoos and battle marks. A leather belt hangs on his waist, securing a pair of cargo pants.

And one of those pieces was now etched into my skin. A faint scar on my palm—a small, stubborn wound that refused to heal. I’d gotten it during that fateful scuffle with Diantha. It should’ve closed within hours. Days, at most. But weeks later, it still throbbed now and then. Not bleeding, but not healing either. And that wasn't normal. Not for a werewolf. We don’t scar. Not easily. Our bodies stitch back together faster than most magic can damage us. So how had such a shallow injury lingered this long?