You Drew Stars On My Scars Novels & Stories

But I couldn’t feel any of it. I stood at the center of their praise, hollow and numb. The head in my hands felt unreal, like a prop from a nightmare I hadn’t yet awakened from. Everyone else saw triumph, but all I felt was the phantom touch of the rogue’s claws, the coppery scent of blood, and the roar of survival thundering in my ears. On the main stage, Jayson stared down at me with an unreadable look, but it quickly twisted into scorn. “Well, would you look at that,” he drawled. “Some random girl did it.” His mocking laughter followed, sharp and grating, as if my victory had personally offended him.

" She... She re-opened dad's case? Why? Isn't she the one who told me that I should stop fighting against that invisible enemy of us? Why would she... Do this?" I stood up even if I feel like I would fall in any moment. I accidentally passed by a mirror and saw my scar. The memories that I buried six feet under the ground starts to flash like a flood. The screams in pain, the culprit's laugh, dad's cry in pain, our maids' shouts, and my cries. God, I need to stop this again. If this kept on flashing back, I'll lost myself again. And I don't want that to happen.

“I’m Tony. What can I do for you today, ladies?” “I want to cover this,” I said, showing the scar. “With a rose.” He studied it thoughtfully. “I can work with that. Red petals, black leaves maybe? We’ll make it look like the scar was meant to be there.” Chris bounced on her heels. “Oooh, get a thorn wrapping around it, like beauty with a bite.” "Very edgy, perfect," the artist commented. "You in?" he asked me. I grinned. “Sold.”

Star was shocked and concerned by this arrangement. “I see.” She turned away and allowed Amanda to finish up. Star looked at the bandages covering her body in the mirror, she knew the wounds which lie beneath would result in permanent scars, but it became a reminder, a reminder of why she was doing it. Star’s eyes fluttered closed, in the darkness of her mind’s eye she could see them; her father’s proud smile, Noah’s serious eyes, Joseph’s mischievous smirk, and somewhere deep down she could still see her mother laughing.

I stare at the image sternly then look down to the pad and watched her draw. The scars on her wrists became more visible, it seems to be clearing off but I can see it clearly. I put my hand on hers and stopped her from drawing. She looked at me as I turned her wrist over and lightly rubbed her scar with my thumb. She froze at my touch. Her skin was soft and warm. “Tell me about your scars,” I said as I looked directly in her eyes. I could tell she was uncomfortable so I gently laid her hand back on the drawing pad. She looked down as she spoke.

I chuckle and just keep blushing and grinning . “The best gift ever the moon goddess has given to me on my birthday” I stand up from the bed and break a deep sigh. I spread my hands wide and make a twirl. But then I am uncertain if he is going to like me back because of my scar. As soon as this hits my head, the smile on my face immediately withers away on staring at myself in the mirror. Who is going to like a scarred woman? I raise my right hand and brush it on the path which my face is scarred. Tears forms in my eyes and I just wish I never have this scar.

But I said, "Okay." Kieran relaxed, then swept me up in his arms. My eyes caught sight of fresh scratches covering his chest—angry red marks like claw marks. He quickly pulled his shirt closed. "I fell earlier. Pretty ugly, right? Don't want to scare my Aria." I smiled sweetly. "Make sure Dr. Scarlett cleans and disinfects those properly. You don't want scars." The mention of Scarlett made something flicker in Kieran's eyes. I could practically see him remembering her claws raking down his skin, how she'd writhed beneath him like a wild cat.

I chuckle and just keep blushing and grinning . “The best gift ever the moon goddess has given to me on my birthday” I stand up from the bed and break a deep sigh. I spread my hands wide and make a twirl. But then I am uncertain if he is going to like me back because of my scar. As soon as this hits my head, the smile on my face immediately withers away on staring at myself in the mirror. Who is going to like a scarred woman? I raise my right hand and brush it on the path which my face is scarred. Tears forms in my eyes and I just wish I never have this scar.

I flung it aside. Gasps exploded around the hall. Underneath, I wore black underwear. A simple top and briefs that left most of my skin bare. Pale flesh. Hard lines of muscle. And scars. So many scars. White lash marks carved down my back and thighs, some raised, some twisted, crisscrossing like a twisted landscape. “What in the—” “By the Moon…” “Who did that to her?”

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.