Scars Above Romane & Geschichten

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.

he retorted, a hint of confusion tainting his voice. "Well, typically, scars that have been present for over a decade tend to gradually fade due to metabolic processes," Gwyneth replied, recalling the scar she had observed at the hospital. She was certain she hadn't misjudged it. Elizabeth's scar couldn't be more than a few years old at most. Furthermore, burns and scalds affected muscles differently, with scalds generally healing faster.

Each scar held a story—a story of struggle, survival, and triumph. Deep admired these marks, not with regret or sorrow, but with a sense of reverence. They were reminders of his journey—a journey that tested his strength and perseverance. They symbolized moments of challenge and resilience, etched into his skin like chapters in a book. With every faded line, he saw a testament to his body's remarkable ability to heal, a silent declaration of overcoming adversity. These scars were symbols of battles fought and won, of hurdles crossed and lessons learned. They were not just marks on his skin; they were emblems of resilience and courage.

Sadly , the paste have little to no effect on the scars that is left behind. I take my bottom lip between my teeth , and I gentle nibble on it. While doing that , I twist my neck as far to the left as I can do to have a look at the scars on my back. I hear my self whimper as I see my peach cream like skin , decorated with hideous revolting scars that are painted all over my back. It looks so appalling that I doubt I could ever wear a dress that shows my bare back again. I let out a painful sigh , just glad that all that is scarred is my back.

I SURVIVED Don't ever be ashamed of the scars life has left you with. A scars mean a hurt is over and the wound is close. It means you conquered the pain , learned a lesson, grew stronger and move forward. A scar is a tattoo of triumph to be proud of . Don't allow your scars to hold you hostage. Don't allow them to make you live your life in fear. You can't make scars in your life disappear , but you can change the way you see them. You can start seeing your scars as a. Sign of strength and not of pain. ---

“Sit or I'll make you.” I smile, knowing not to test his threat because he would follow through and carefully walk over, trying not to wince in pain as every step felt like I was stepping on glass. Sitting down, Scar kneels in front of me, carefully lifting one of my feet up, takes out a small knife and slices his palm and rubs the blood over my wounds. Using his healing blood magic it soaks into my skin, the cuts and blisters slowly fading away until they disappear completely. Returning my foot back to the soft pale slightly pink color. Picking up the other foot he repeats the process, healing it back to its healthy state. I sigh in relief as the stinging pain subsides until the pain is co

At 3:47 PM, my neck started burning. Not painful at first. Just hot. Feverish. I touched it, and the skin was raised. The scar. My heart hammered. I stood too quickly, chair rolling back. “You okay?” James asked. “Fine. Bathroom.” I walked calmly until the bathroom door closed. Then I ran to the mirror, lifted my hair, and turned. The scar was glowing. Soft, eerie light emanates from the seven carved into my skin. And it was hot. Burning from the inside.

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.

Layla scrambled back in terror, but it was too late. My claws ripped her dress, revealing the pale skin of her back. It was smooth. Flawless. There was no scar. And Myrna... Myrna had a hideous scar running from her left shoulder to her right hip. The scar I had touched a thousand times, but never once asked where it came from. "Moon Goddess," I collapsed. "What have I done?" "You regret it now?" Layla sat on the floor, her eyes filled with malicious glee. "It's too late, Clark. It's far too late."

If I didn’t have Jolie and Jessica by my side, I wouldn’t have been able to get everything done. I get up and go to the bathroom, slamming the door shut with such force that the windows rattle in their frame. I take a quick shower, then stare at my reflection in the mirror, hoping Edric will be done and gone by the time I’m finished in the bathroom. I’m almost completely healed, apart from a small scar on the side of my face, close to my left eye – it’s not big, but it’s noticeable. I run my fingers over the thick ridges of skin. There’s a similar, bigger scar on my collarbone, running from my clavicle to my shoulder, another one on my stomach, but the biggest and worst of the scars is a rag