Scars That Turn White Novels & Stories

"I may be mistaken. Only criminals bear such scars. How could it be on the lady? I clenched my fists. But if this were a dream, then why did it feel so real? If I had died, then why was I here, reliving my past? "Perhaps an allergic reaction from falling into the rose bush?" Evelyn contributed weakly. I met her gaze. "Can injuries from silver poisoning heal completely?" The room was silent. Dr. Evelyn hesitated before shaking her head. "No. Such injuries last a lifetime. There’s even an old saying." "What are you saying?" I pressed. Her expression tensed. "They say that these scars can be reborn into people." A cold thrill ran down my veins. Doctor Evelyn gave a nervous titter. "But that's j

Yes I wasn't one of those morning people but I had to get the hell out of bed. And out of my room. I stripped in front of the mirror and stared at my reflection. I didn't look horrible but I didn't look good either. My scars— the scars were a light shade of pink now and they were itchy. I was told by a physician that it was because they were healing.

I can't be bothered to go into the bathroom to change, so I just face the wall while I take my top off and pants, but I make my mistake early, I forgot about the permanent yellow bruising, the fresh red and purple coloured and old white scars, and the deep knife and bullet wounds covering my back and legs. I feel pairs of eyes searching my body, I turn around and find everyone staring at me. And me being me, I make a joke out of it, but they take it seriously. "Wanna know how I got these scars?" They look at me like I'm a lunatic, worry and concern lace their faces, "yeah, actually we do, they look really bad" Saffron says, obviously looking super worried.

I explained. I touched my side. I have no idea which one of them got me but one of them did. I have a three or four inch scar down my right side now from them. Wolves don’t normally scar and if we do silver is normally involved, but their fucking claws left a scar. I know they did not have silver tipped claws because the wound never burnt like silver would have. I am not sure why the wound scared.

I wiggle my brows at them as they laugh and pull back from the hug. Ry stops laughing and becomes serious. “How bad is it?” He asks softly, placing his hand on my cheek. “I haven’t looked. I’m not sure I want to,” I say, touching my right eye gently over the bandage. I lean over and turn on the small lamp on the side table, then lean back and lift my shirt up to see where she sliced me with the knife over my stomach. I pull back the bandage carefully and see that a pink scar has formed. “The doctor says that the scars will never heal properly because of the type of wolfsbane,” I explain.

I worry I’ll wear these scars forever. Stepping out of the shower, I wipe the condensation from the mirror and freeze. A mark lingers on my neck, darker and more stubborn than the others. Deep red, tinged with purple. My fingers press against it, watching the color blanch before seeping back into its original hue. A pleasurable tingle ripples down my spine. That’s new. Is this one different from the others? It reminds me of the one Braden has on his ribs but I thought that was a birthmark. I'm sure I haven't always had this here ... Have I?

I ask openly, no longer through the mind-link. “Nearly there, I pulled the staples out earlier.” Evelyn says looking down at her arm. She has now taken the bandage off and I could see the wound still healing but all that was left was the skin and tissue scarring. It may leave a scar, sometimes it was just pure luck depending on scars for werewolves but one thing was for certain, silver always left a mark.

Her white face, which had been originally flawless, was at the moment covered by a palm-sized scar, making her look like a ghost. "I'm disfigured! I'm really disfigured!" That was the only thought in her mind at the time. "Don't run. Come back quickly. I've only treated half of it. I haven't removed the scars for you yet." As Qin Haodong spoke, he took out another bottle of white ointment. It was also his exclusive jade skin cream, which could remove scars left by various injuries. "What? Do you mean that the scars on my body can be removed?"

" 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.

I laid my arm on the table. The scar ran from two inches below the elbow toward the wrist, not thin, not the thin line of a clean cut but the wider, raised record of broken glass, of a jagged edge, of something that had torn rather than cut. It was old. It was white now, the specific white of very old scar tissue, the color of something that had healed entirely on the surface and left its evidence beneath. I had not looked at it directly in a long time. I looked at it now. She looked at it.