You Drew Stars On My Scars Novels & Stories

Tears stained his cheeks. “Yes, it’s me. Please, I know you hated my people but know that I have nothing to do with them. They tried to kill me too. I tried to save Asher and Zara but they dragged me away. They tortured me.” He held out his arm that has an ugly burned scar around it. Eve’s gazed soften.

"What, is Mom not as important as some junk locket? You know what happens if her condition worsens." "I know." I cut him off, my voice cracking as I crouched on the floor. "No one knows better than me when she loses it." My old scars burned as I recalled it. Like a volatile child, she'd speak kindly one moment, and the next, brand me with a hot poker. The smell of scorched flesh haunted my nightmares. Andre fell silent, knowing how diligently I had cared for Evelyn, but a moment later, he hardened again. "I got it, you don't want her to get better."

“I was a victim of a contract that turned my blood into a product. If you want to ‘Save Kai,’ then stop buying the tickets to a show where the performer is being kept awake by a needle.” He held up his arm toward the phone camera, the sleeve pushed back just enough to show the fresh bruising from the IV and the older, yellowing marks that told the story of the Starlight Facility. The scars weren’t pretty. They weren’t glamorous rock-star damage. They looked exactly like what they were—evidence. He didn’t look like a god on stage anymore. He looked like a survivor who had finally stopped pretending.

She sleeps nude, perfect for late-night lovemaking. Eon’s voice was a smug, lustful growl in my head. I tried to shove him down, but my own body betrayed me. My cock, which had been aching for hours, now throbbed with a renewed, desperate urgency. As I forced my gaze upward, away from the temptation of her breasts, my breath caught. There, in the soft moonlight, were the scars. Three small, circular puckers marred the smooth skin of her left shoulder. Another, larger one, rested just above the gentle curve of her stomach. And on her right hip, two thin, silvery slashes, the unmistakable legacy of a blade’s kiss. A cold, murderous fury, far more potent than my lust, surged through me.

This was the face of someone who had died once—in silence—and returned, forged in it. My hand rose, slowly, to the scar at my throat. The place where sound had been stolen. Not mourned. Not forgotten. Transformed. A wound that had once marked my ruin, now marked my reign. I lifted my hand again and signed into the night air—not to anyone watching, but to the stars themselves: “He will fall.” And the stars, ancient and eternal, did not laugh. They listened.

It was old, but the pain it must have caused was evident. "It must have hurt," I murmured, my fingers tracing the raised edges of the scar. His body tensed, a flicker of fear in his eyes. I just felt like I could connect with him so much after seeing this. His scar was physical, but my own scars, though invisible, ran just as deep. I bent my head, pressing a soft kiss against the scarred flesh, a silent apology for the pain he had endured.

I didn’t stop walking. Upstairs, I shut my door too softly for the satisfaction I wanted. Kicking off my leggings, I grabbed a hoodie and crawled into bed. The moment the lights were out, my brain flipped the switch on its nightly torture reel. Old memories. New fears. That terrifying feeling I’d let something important unravel tonight and didn’t know how to rebraid it. I reached for my sketchpad. My safest escape. Tonight’s drawing began with a scar. A long one, slicing down a man’s cheek. His eyes were soft, though. Kind. I made him older. Mid-thirties. Ex-boxer, maybe. Wrote notes in the margin:

She confessed. I squealed like a little girl and quickly covered my mouth when I realized what I just did. "You sounded like a girl. " melody commented and I pouted then she burst out laughing. "Can I see your scars from the fire?" She requested and I flinched a little. I had never shown anyone my scars ever since the fire happened but I was ready to make an exception for her. " it's okay if you don't want to show me." She said but I shook my head and pulled off my shirt. She gasped when she saw the scars. I know it looks hideous. "I love your scars," she confessed and I knew she was telling the truth. "I love you."

But you're different, Can you feel it? I want you to see, The person I see you to be. You're not alone, I see you. Are you scarred? What do you fear? Come closer, I'll tell you a story, And wash all your fears away. Do you see the stars? Billions upon billions of them, Yet you shine the brightest. You're a special kind of star, One that never dies. Are you broken? Come closer let's compare scars. Your heart hurts right? Mine does too,

Chapter 1: The "Scarred One" Amelie "I, Amelie Ashwood, reject you, Tate Cozad, as my mate. I REJECT YOU!" I screamed with the last of my energy. I took the silver blade dipped in my blood to my mate mark. The searing pain my body and my wolf felt was like my heart was being ripped from my chest while being hit by a bus. I guess not all new starts are bright and shiny. The physical pain was unbearable, but my mind was clear. "I did it. I'm free." I passed out naked, bloody, and alone but free; after ten years, I was free.