Under Your Scars Trigger Warnings Novels & Stories

Dangerous. Her gaze drifted to my chest, to the scars that crisscrossed my skin. Old shrapnel wounds from the border wars. A knife scar from a duel in the barracks. I stiffened. I wanted to cover myself. I didn't want her to see the damage. I didn't want her to see the map of violence etched into me. "You have a lot of scars," she said softly. Her fingers hovered over a jagged white line near my shoulder. "I have lived a long life," I said curtly.

I guess she did not want to see the lifetime reminder I had of my childhood. “Do not fret about it Alma. Everything I went through only made me stronger, and in truth I am a better Luna because of it. Unlike some children that were fed with a silver spoon, I know what it means to work.” I wanted Melissa to hear my words. It has been so long since anyone other than Caleb has seen me nude that I had forgotten about the scars. Being a wolf means that we heal quickly, so it is unusual for us to have scars. When I wound is inflicted upon a child that has never shifted though, and that child receives no medical attention then yes, a scar may form. I had several small scars on my body, but my lower

I'm a mutant-an impending bomb-a danger to my pack. The whispers of 'Born unclean, Threat to self / society,' still follow me. On my face, but also on my flesh, my body littered with scars from my time as their prisoner, their brand. Once each new crescent, and my strength explodes with little care of what it destroys.

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.

“Why did you lose control? I did nothing wrong other than touching you.” “Touching me is everything wrong,” he chips in. “But then I’m still an asshole for reacting in that manner.” “Do you hate my hands on you that much?” My heart clenches with pain. It hurts that he hates me touching him, but as for me… I’d kill to have his fingers on my body. “You’re not at fault, Lira. I have scars all over my body and it’s traumatizing. It itches when someone touches me.” Scars?

The scar is a container and a protective space where the memory can be stored and endured privately. The causes of scars remain in storage in the body and the mind, and sometimes can shape actions for a person’s entire life. That's what Beneath The Scars is going to talk about . It's going to talk about how to never give up without a fight. W A R N I N G The book contains scenes of self-harm, mentions of abuse and suicide, themes of grief and depression, and sexual content towards the first half of the book . Readers are requested to proceed with caution. Please skip if you see any scene that you may find triggering.

Warning ⚠️ : some mature content present. He made her shiver. He made her melt. He made her want to give herself to him, something she'd sworn she would never do outside marriage. She felt his hand on the button of her dress, could feel the fabric loosening as each slipped through its buttonhole, this was everything she'd sworn she would never do, and yet when her bodice tumbled to her waist, leaving her shamelessly exposed, she gasped his name and arched her back, offering herself to him like some sort of forbidden fruit.

I asked adding pressure to the arm. "Ahh please I'm sorry, I thought you wouldn't mind if I did that" he yelped in pain. My phone beeped in my pocket, I let his arm go "Don't try this shit with me again" i warned "Stop acting like a saint you whore it doesn't fit you" he walked away hurriedly I frowned at his words I brought my phone out and checked the notification and I wasn't surprised at the videos I saw. Hmmm so that's why they've been giving me those stares.

Gwyneth stared at the hideous scar in the mirror, lost in thought. It had been ages since she had taken a close look at it. The scar ran horizontally across her abdomen, starting from the front and stretching toward her side, even reaching further toward her back. Gwyneth pursed her lips and delicately traced her fingertips along the scar. It no longer elicited any pain, but the fact that she had been young when her skin was burned meant that the nerves beneath the scar had suffered damage. As a result, whenever her scar was touched, she would experience a peculiar sensation—a constant reminder that her nerves had not yet fully recovered.

"The ball is in your court. It still won't change the fact that I've scarred her for life. And neither you nor anyone else on this planet can undo what has been done." Adnan left him to bleed on the floor, taking his mother by the hand and pulling her out of the room. "Get your things," he said. "We're leaving." Her tears were silent. She'd thought that Yusuf would never again possess the power to make her cry. It was all she'd done during the early days of her marriage. But now, her tears weren't for her. She wept instead for what could have been. Her tears were those of remorse. She'd failed. As a mother and as a wife. To hear him say the things he'd said, something died inside of her that