You Drew Stars On My Scars Novels & Stories

She opens the blade and eyes it skeptically. “What’s this all about, Steele?” I reach up and touch the scar beside my eye. The Moon Drinker brand. “I can’t have this on my body anymore,” I tell her. “I can’t be tied to that life anymore.” She takes a quick step backward and fumbles the knife but manages to hang on to it. “What are you asking me to do?” “Just change it,” I say. “These scars are so old. I’ll have them for life. I can’t hope to make them disappear by healing them away. But a few more cuts could turn this sigil into something else entirely.”

But he didn't falter, his gaze unwavering as he reached out to gently cup my face in his hands, his touch sending a wave of warmth flooding through me. "Star," he murmured softly, his voice filled with tenderness and understanding. "You are beautiful, scars and all. They are a testament to your strength and resilience, not a mark of shame." “And besides I have terrible scars too, so I'm in no position to judge anyone. I was too ashamed of mine so I tattooed all over them.” He said raising his arms as I saw a scar but tattoos scattered all over.

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.

That song, was the mark that means the end of the game. She cried and cried her eyes out in joy. 'Thank god,' she said inside her heart. 'I have survived another day of the hunt.' —

Now it was her turn. Her hands, smaller but no less marked by her own struggles, settled on the hard plane of his chest. Her fingers traced the landscape of his scars—a thick, ropy line along his ribs, a puckered star near his collarbone, the intricate black tattoos that wove around old wounds like armour. She leaned down, following the path of her fingers with her mouth. She kissed the star-shaped scar, her lips soft and lingering. She traced the length of the ropey scar with her tongue, feeling him shudder beneath her.

Scars stared at the pillow in front of him. “Are you in pain?” she said. “Do you need something? Should I get a doctor?” “No, baby,” he said, and suddenly, it was Scars again, and she almost sagged in relief. “I’m not in pain.” “OK so…” She stroked his face. “You OK? All things considered?” “Well. I mean, I’m obviously devastated about the fresh scars ending my promising modelling career,” Scars said. “But I’ll get past it. Somehow.”

i replied [Scars to your beautiful- Alessia cara] She just wants to be, beautiful She goes, unnoticed she knows, no limits She craves, attention she praises, an image She prays to be, sculpted by the sculptor Oh, she don't see, the light that's shining Deeper than the eyes can find it Maybe we have made her blind So she tries to cover up her pain And cut her woes away 'Cause covergirls don't cry After their face is made But there's a hope that's waiting for you in the dark You should know you're beautiful just the way you are And you don't have to change a thing The world could change its heart No scars to your beautiful We're stars and we're beautiful

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.

“It’s perfect on you.” If I hear the word perfect one more time I’m going to throw up. “Look at it Drew! Anyone can see my scars, it’s too exposed to cover them. It looks ugly.” He looks at me, “Your scars…” he says slowly like it just dawned on him. “That’s what you’re worried about.” “You don’t understand…” He bends down and kisses the scar on my neck which cuts off my speech. “What are you doing?” I ask when he kisses the one on my collar bone.

before the door opened and boy I am not expecting what I witnessed Scar is a girl with pixie cut black hair with brown eyes. She has a nose ring and she have tatoos all over her right arm. I know staring is rude but I can not help it. I did not expect that she will look like this. I smiled so wide I am sure she can see my wisdom tooth and shouted at the same time hug her. *weird side activated* "You are so awesome! Are you Scar? Oh my gosh! Does it hurt when you were inked? Can I have one too?!"