Under Your Scars Trigger Warnings Novels & Stories

The fruit of my trauma is; my inability to stay stable, trust anyone, go into shell shock, and above all the most viable evidence of my audeal is the post traumatic stress and scars . Any banging sound , scenes of violence, unexpected surprise greetings , sudden shocks, knocks you off kilter. For someone who doesn't understand ; they may think you are troubled , have issues , or my favorite term she's weird. Fact is that I am not weird. I have visible and invisible scars that are trying to heal. The most noticeable ones are the laceration stitches that are on my tummy . The scars serve as a reminder of what I've lost. I am still reeling even though I look like I have it together . Parts of m

Unconsciously, I glance toward Tristin and feel this sudden urge to hide my scars from him. The doctor leaves and the nurse changes my bandages. After I am alone with Tristin in the room, the door closes and he sits on the chair beside the bed. I stare at my wrists, trying to fight my absurd thoughts. Why does it matter if I have scars? “ What is it? ” Tristin breaks the heavy silence. “ The scars… ” I sigh but don’t meet his eyes. Why do I have to worry that he will find them ugly?

I inhale sharply and stumble backwards at the realization of what her words actually meant. I approach the bed again and gently touch a scar and watch it disappear under my fingers as a dull pain radiates through the tips of my fingers. He has beaten her and from the looks and feel of it he had been doing it for a while. I begin to touch every wound and scar I can see, vanishing them in the blink of an eye. Occasionally a sharp pain will shoot through my hand telling me that the scar or wound was more recent than the others and I feel my wolf stir once again.

Her brain can't understand what was happening, it was in absolute chaos. But she just knew one thing: she wants out. I want to live. I want to live. Let me out. Let me out! But before she knew it, [Bang!] She'll never see the sun rising up again. —

Contrary to popular belief not all scars can be healed on a shifter. A reminder of the love I cherished, the love my mate couldn't return. The reason for my other scars is the punishment placed on me before my exile. By order of the king, my father. . My eyes settled on my dick now hidden beneath the white towel where the evidence from the lick of the whip's tip dipped in silver & wolfsbane marred my junk. It disgusted me most of the time when I felt the three raised welts that still lingered there a reminder that I could have been less of a man than I already felt.

I hurriedly went to him and asked "Doctor h-how is she?" My voice cracked "She is completely fine. She hit her head with something which caused her to faint and open up the old scar that was on her head. Which caused the bleeding" The doctor said "Old scar?" I asked confused "Yes, the area where she got hit was already cut before. But yes her foot is injured and she will have difficulty walking for a month or two. Rather than that she is fine. She has not woke up yet and it will take her time"

He pulled it over his head in one swift motion and dropped it to the floor. My breath caught in my throat. His chest, arms, and back were a canvas of pain. Thick, ropy scars twisted down his skin—angry red burns, layered on top of each other like cruel signatures left behind by monsters. Some patches were warped beyond recognition. Some looked like they still hurt. I took a step back instinctively, my stomach turning. The air felt heavier now like I’d stepped into something sacred and violent all at once. It looked disgusting. I forced back the contents of the last meal down my throat. I couldn’t throw up now.

Michele's voice pulled me back to reality. "If she hadn't left all those years ago, the woman at my side would be a gambler. How could it be an angel like you? Tomorrow is our 99th day together, and I'm putting the most profitable strip club in Vallasia under your name." Michele looked at Barbara with complete indulgence and pinched her cheek playfully. Barbara laughed softly and leaned in to kiss him. A sudden, stabbing pain tore through my side, forcing a sharp gasp from me. It was the scar I had carried for five years, left behind when I sold a kidney just to stay alive after I failed to repay my loan.

a student said it loud enough for her to hear and there was laughter everywhere. “Why would she even come back here?”A girl whispered, loud enough for people to hear. “Even the ugliest thing in the world is more presentable than her.” There was laughter, they weren't so loud to the hearing of the teachers and principal, but their piercing eyes said everything. “She thinks using the scarf to cover her scars will help anything, maybe she should have been burnt in the fire,” a student mocked. “I heard she screamed for hours during the fire and half her hair is gone”, another student echoed

My daughter, Amelia Rossum, comes home with her palm pierced all the way through by a pencil. I drop my mop in a panic, hastily change out of my loungewear, and rush her to the ER. At the hospital entrance, my husband, Benedict Rossum, jumps out of his car and immediately lashes out at me. "How could you let this happen to her?" Our neighbor, Lorelei Bates, trails behind him, holding her daughter's hand. She addresses him gently, "Benedict, don't be so hard on Clarissa. Everyone makes mistakes." He scoffs. "Other mothers can keep their kids safe perfectly fine. What's her excuse? I bet she did this on purpose to guilt me into coming home early!" Amelia recoils and hides behind me. Seei