Wanna Know How I Got These Scars Novels & Stories

She placed her hands on either side of my waist, ready to catch me if I fell. My eyes drifted up to the bathroom mirror, wincing at the sight of the dark jagged scar that ran from my left cheekbone, all the way down to my left shoulder blade. The scab and stitching reminded me of a thorny vine, except there wasn't beautiful flower to deter my eyes from the ugliness. It was by no means pretty, but I was fully prepared for that.

Those scars were my problem. My heart was convinced she didn't have those at the time she was captured. And I was very certain I didn't do that to her, which leaves a huge blank spot in the story of how she got such terrible scars hidden in the delicate parts of her body. “And the scars? Is there something you can tell me about those scars?” I ticked, losing patience by the second. The doctor took another long look at the scars, and another long look at me. “I'm afraid this is as a result of the witch's bane.” She says slowly, scared of my reaction.

These scars had been with her for so long that she'd literally forgotten about their existence or cared about their existence, as if they were already part of her skin. Scars caused by cigarette butts and other hot burning metals. It hadn't occurred to her that Enzo would never see these scars and think she was born with them or something. Fuck, the scars didn't even come to mind. "I'm asking you something, Gypsy!" By now Enzo was breathing hard, his jaw ticking furiously. He shifted her breasts around to see more scars and shot to his feet, glaring down at her. "Who the fuck did these things to you, Gypsy? And don't fucking tell me that it's no one. Because unless you have some kind of self

I've had enough of those in the past. "Anyway, I'd want to ask you a question." I shifted my gaze to Mysha. "Hmm, what is it?" "I saw your scar in the stomach the other day by chance," she said, "where did you get that?" I froze on my post, and my chest heaved with panic. I'm at a loss for words. Mysha's question was so random that it almost drove me to leave. I'm not yet ready to confess what I have been through.

Doom. “You don't have to tell me. Your scar says it all.” “Oh, this.” I chuckle, pointing at the scar on my face. I have a straight scar that starts at just below my eyebrow and extends down to my upper cheek, where it ends. And what can I say? It fucking makes me stand out. I hate and despise how I got it, but this scar has made me who I am today. “It is meant to scare you, actually. And I still got the looks. Women love me.” I deadpan and it's not as if I'm bluffing.

One thing was certain, it wasn’t this outfit. He had wanted a blue low-backed dress that flared out at the hips. I refused, not wanting others to see all the scars on my body. Many of them vanished as my health improved with drinking blood. There were some scars no amount of blood would heal, and those scars I wanted to keep to myself. Don’t get me wrong, I earned them on a level of epic proportions, egging on Madison and then getting strapped to the whipping post. My best scar was on my leg when I had cut up Madison’s favorite dress with scissors, and she caught me red-handed. She took the scissors and sliced my thigh. It had taken months to heal because I was so weak.

Tycelyn's POV "That scar, where and how did you get it?" Doreen pointed at the scar on my tummy. I think it was the first time she was noticing it, I really wear a small top at home so it made sense. Come to think of it, I never really knew how I got the scar, I just grew up with it, if I wasn't mistaken. "She got it at the orphanage, is there a problem?" Grandpa answered on my behalf.

I couldn't remember anything about how I got the scar. “I have no clue where I got that from. It's not that I dealt with anything sharp...” "That's really strange. Did you feel any pain or notice anything unusual yesterday?" Georgia asked. "No, I didn't feel any pain or notice anything out of the ordinary. It's just so weird that I have no memory of getting this scar," I replied, feeling frustrated and worried. “It looks like something like a branch cut you. Were you gardening?” “Branches? No way,” I replied. But suddenly the nightmare of chasing through the woods, I had the previous night flashed before my eyes.

, I came out of my car and I wasn’t surprised when Scarlett came out wearing a long face. “You bitch!” She said as she walked towards me. “Can we do this later, I got work. Thank you” I said dryly and made to enter my car but she was fast to touch me by my hand. I quickly removed her hand from my body like it was a plague and looked at her angrily. “Never in your life, I repeat, never touch me with that hand you uses to give my dad a hand job” Scarlett looked pretty embarrassed as I said that but she was quick to cover it up with a scoff.

The way he looked at me as though I had slipped through his fingers, though I wasn’t sure I’d ever been in his hands to begin with. Was that even a fight? I wasn’t sure. It hadn’t been shouting or doors slamming. Just silence. Silence with an edge sharp enough to cut through bone. I sat up with a sigh, swinging my legs off the bed. My scars prickled under the moonlight, old marks etched into my skin like someone else’s handwriting. I reached for the jar on the nightstand,the cream Malrik had left without a word weeks ago. Scar removal. Expensive. Rare. I rubbed it carefully over my arms, my collarbone, down to my legs. Slow circles, like erasing an old story.