Under Your Scars Trigger Warnings Novels & Stories

He unbuttons his black leather tunic and shoves the heavy material aside, exposing his bare chest. Zanele’s laughter dies instantly in her throat. Her eyes widen in absolute horror. Stretching from his left shoulder, down across his ribs, and carving deep into his abdomen was a horrifying, raised scar of blackened flesh—the permanent, unhealable mark of a Bloodmoon Fire penalty, where the skin had been burned straight to the bone.

Gently, slowly, he guided her hand up and down her body, ran their fingers along each and every scar. He left the largest one for last, knowing that this was the one that frightened and disgusted her the most. That asshole had sliced her from her breastbone straight down the middle of her body, all the way to her navel. The scar was thick and raised, an angry, vivid purple, and every time she looked at it, she remembered how terrified she had been at that moment. She'd truly thought he was going to gut her like a fish; she'd thought she was going to die.

~Trigger Warning: This story is rated 18+. This chapter contains descriptions of self-harming behaviors such as suicide, self-inflicted injuries, body harm, alcohol and drug abuse, which may be triggering for readers with lived experiences.~ I woke up with a start. Breathing heavily, I looked around my room. It was dark and nothing seemed out of place. Grabbing my chest, it felt like someone just ran a sword through me. This didn’t feel like it was coming from the runes, either.

There was a scar on the inside of her thighs, all the way from her knee to her inner thigh, how could he not notice it the other night? Well, how could he? He was taken, too lost by her body, he was in a hurry to taint her so that he might have overlooked it, unknowingly, his fingers moved to her scar on their own. It looked deep and hurting, and he traced it, “please don’t,” she was ashamed of it, she felt terrible that he was seeing her scars.

I'm hungry and thirsty, Silas is kinda a lifesaver. I was in the last drop of my drink when I sense someone standing beside me. Shock and fear envelop my chest when someone reaches his hand to me-- asking for a dance. My fist tightened around the bouquet of red roses I'm holding and the empty wine glass that almost shattered. I'm not shocked because of the way he just popped beside me, but because of the uneasiness I felt and the fear that aroused inside of me. It's instinct. I look at his hand before paying him my attention, my forehead knotted when I notice the peek of a familiar tattoo-- and that's hit me. I remembered the image I once saw when I was sixteen for my mission but ended up fa

Let your destiny pave way for you to to unite. Let your heart guide you to your only light.. . Yet, if still the darkness of her eyes veils the truth of light. I smile at this.... it was Vivian's selflessness.....she always tried to veil her pains...she never told me anything. Fighting her battles alone. But not after this...no more. Remember, Scars will always get visible, when all lights are off. So Sophie knew of Vivian's scar....was she talking about the scar on her face.......no it is too small...plus how did Soph knew that night that the wound will scar.

Like I have two dimples when I smile while Emily has two but one is not that deep. I have a small birthmark just above my navel, which Emily doesn't have. When I went out two days ago to meet up with Maddie at Starbucks, people were congratulating me on my wedding. I was too embarrassed to say I'm not the one getting married but my twin. Nobody will believe me, anyway. So I thanked them and smiled politely at them. At the mall, when we went shopping for wedding gifts, someone congratulated me, and I told him I wasn't the one he never believed me.

Aiden looks like he might be sick, while Jasper and Marcus both look pissed. I turn back to Zahra just as she stands up straight, and I finally see what they’re staring at. Her back is covered in angry red and white scars, crisscrossing into a horrible lattice over her skin. My stomach churns at the sight. I knew her father had hurt her, but this is the first time I’m seeing the damage with my own eyes. I watch the realization dawn in her expression, and the look on her face nearly breaks me. Stepping forward, I try to ease her anxiety, wanting to brush this off for her sake. “Hey, little one. It’s good to see you enjoying yourself after this morning. How are you feeling?”

He held his phone and watched the video all night long. The next morning, when he looked in the mirror, he saw a man who looked like a vagrant—unshaven, haggard, and lifeless. He stared at his own reflection and muttered bitterly, "You deserve this." … On the day of my wedding, all my college classmates showed up, including Tristan. At first, I was worried he would cause trouble again. I didn't want to be disturbed by him anymore. Even with my good temper, I couldn't stand being constantly tangled up in his drama.

Ryan raised the chair in his hands, and with a swift motion, brought it down on me, his eyes cold as they met mine. I was paralyzed by the fear in my eyes, unable to move. "Ah!" The pain shot through me like a jolt of electricity, and I couldn't contain the blood-curdling scream that escaped my lips. My fingers were crushed instantly, mangled and bleeding, as I stared at them in disbelief. The physical pain, sharp and intense, barely compared to the crushing weight in my chest.