The Scars That Made Me Book Novels & Stories

Asher called but I can't find it in me to look away from Logan's nipple. "You know I was joking right?" Logan said but I just can't look at anything else. "Excuse me." He said and left and even though he is no longer standing in front of me, I still can't look at anything else... I can vividly see the scar staring back at me. "Nicole, are you okay." Asher called and tapped me at the same time and that's when I finally snapped out of it, it was like the scar held me in a trance.

“You did.” “And the Book?” He shook his head. “Gone.” Her gaze dropped to her hands. The wound where she’d cut herself had healed… but not cleanly. The skin had scarred in a spiral, dark and perfect, etched into her palm like ink burned beneath flesh. The same spiral Mara had worn. The same spiral that had filled the Book’s pages. “I feel different,” she whispered. Tristan’s hand hovered, almost touching hers, then pulled back. “You are.”

The kind that happens when something enters a room that nobody was prepared for. I go still. I don’t look at anyone. I stare at the wall directly in front of me and I breathe, slowly, through my nose, and I feel the air on my back and I know exactly what they can see and I don’t move a single muscle. The scars don’t lie. They never have. They’re not the clean, faded kind that can be explained away as childhood accidents or a medical procedure. They’re the kind that have a story, and the story is ugly, and every woman in this room is currently reading it whether they want to or not.

Totally opposite from mine, which is a pair of glistening ocean. While staring at him, I could see why he was being feared by everyone, his eyes were already telling me nightmares. I put down my book beside me and walk towards him, I jumped on the bed and hugged Silas, he sexily chuckled in response. "Yes," I answered. I am not a machine who made without feelings or any remorse. I can feel my heart pumping, the warmth of my breath, and the desire to protect someone. I'm afraid, afraid that there will be a day that the one I badly want to protect, leave me.

But I can't deny that I liked her sloppy kisses and touches before. But my nightmare came when I ordered her to get to all fours. Her back was turned on me and I think she was too out of it to notice me pause. The lamp's dim light was enough for me to see the horrors of her life. Scars. She had scars on her back. I wanted to touch them, but I didn't want her to remember what was on her back and relive such memories. I had scars too, heck I even have one on my mouth, but none as frightening as the long one on her back.

Poppy gently pulls me to a chair. “Such pretty hair,” she mutters as she starts working with it. She is gentle and doesn’t pull on it. She puts my hair into a simple updo bun. It is not slick, but still curly. I like it because it's simple. “Alright, makeup.” She gets in front of me. “I’ll keep it simple and clean. Just enhance your natural beauty.” “Natural beauty? With these scars?” “These are an indication of what you’ve survived. They mean you’re a warrior. I have my own scars, and I never cover them. I wear them with pride because I overcame it all. You should too,” she says.

A man on the boat reached out his hand to help me up. His face was hidden in shadow, but I could see a scar running down his cheek. I watched the flames and bid farewell to my former self. From this moment on, there was no more Serena Ferrari. From now on, I would become my own queen.

Still hers. She trailed her fingertips his arm, as the morning light danced over the bruises and healing wounds as if trying to make sense of the pain etched into his skin. Battle scars. Every one of them earned in the fight to get Sophie back. The war might have been over, but peace hadn't yet settled down in her heart. Grayson stirred beside her. "You ever going to stop watching me sleep like a serial killer?" She smiled faintly. "Probably not." He cracked one eye open. "Creepy and sexy. That's very on-brand for you."

The girl in the mirror standing opposite me was a girl broken and recombined with the improper pieces. "Pathetic," I muttered to myself. And I grinned. Cold, empty thing that it was, with no regard for the girl that once was me. Because what I discovered, Jake and Cassandra didn't kill me. Victoria didn't, either. They just provided justification for waking the hell up. I removed my makeup and cotton brushes wiped away like discarding the old me. I looked again and caught sight of something new in my eyes. Peace of anger. Hunger. "No more tears," I told myself. "Time they're sorry for all of this."

I couldn't let her erase him. I ran toward the pool of grey shadow on the steps. I didn't have a weapon, and I didn't have magic. But I had the Debt-Marks on my skin, the silvery scars that Kaelen and I shared. I knelt down and pressed my scarred palms directly into the grey fire. The pain was unlike anything I had ever felt. It wasn't heat; it was the feeling of being unmade. It felt like my childhood, my wedding day, and the births of my children were being pulled out of my brain through my fingernails.