Scars Above 소설 & 이야기

I couldn’t see all of his chest with the towel in the way, but I saw it. It was a different kind of scar, it wasn’t a slice or puncture. This one looked like something like a triangular shape had been pressed there leaving small dots of deep angry scar behind.

She watched as he frowned at the button , his chiseled face was like a sculpture, he had thick and roughly carved brows she felt like running her hands on them. He had a well carved beards which had evidence of not been shaved for a while, they where prickly but also tickled wherever his face brushed her arm. The lock of hair that had been on his forehead head was now brushing his eyes, Ann had the strongest urge to brush it from his eyes and indeed they did feel marvelously silky. Oh on! She had touched it, and now he was looking at her. But this time not only did he look frustrated, there was something else, it wasn't there before and it reminded her of the day at the library.

" 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.

My eyes fly open in shock, skirting away to look anywhere but at Maverick’s now exposed body. His glorious, sculpted body with a stellar pack of abs and scars. I sneak another peek when I registers I saw scars. Werewolves rarely scar, especially with the help of herbs and our expedited healing. But I was right. Maverick’s torso is covered in a variety of scars in all shapes and sizes. He has a huge bite mark on his side, a thin pink line from right above his left nipple down to his navel. He looks like he fell into a wood chipper and was pieced back together.

Flora was contemplating. She was aware that if she let the guide help her apply the sunscreen lotions on her back, he would see the ugly scar she had from a flat iron Lambert had once pressed on her. It had been years, but the scar it left would still be visible. It hurt like hell during those times as she had no one to help her. She couldn't reach the spot with her hands to apply meds on it, so the scar it left was quite noticeable with the shape of a flat iron that the edges of the scar now have fibrous connective tissues. With the healthy pink skin tone that Flora has, the scar was visible and easy to identify what caused the burn.

What exactly did I do? She raised her head up and then covered her eyes with her hand. “It's all your fault.” “What exactly is my fault?” I finally voiced out the words as I needed her to clear it up because I was so damn confused. She removed her hand from her eyes and looked down at me. She raised her hand and pulled her blouse upwards and immediately, my eyes widened in horror. Right on the pale skin of her abdomen, three garrish scars ran from below her breast to her waist. From the way it looked, it was clear to see that it was claw marks and the wound had been very deep. Probably deep enough for her intestines to be pulled out.

He looks so incredibly handsome that Bella nearly stumbles as she takes a step forward. The scar on his face seems darker tonight, more noticeable. But it does not distract from his beauty. In fact, over the last few days, she has realized that she really loves his scar. It starts just above his left eye, in the thick of his brow, runs around the side of his eyes and stops at the edge of his cheekbone, right above where his facial hair begins to grow thick. Bella looks at him, trying not to stare but also entranced by him at the same time.

They were the kind of blue that would remind you of a freezing block of ice. Those unforgiving eyes were framed by thick eyelashes that were long enough to make me a little jealous. He had a scar on the corner of his lips and on his forehead, just above his right eye. But, they didn't mar his beauty. His skin was littered with scars of different sizes and shapes. It hurt just to look at them. He had such terrible scars. Yet, he was not ashamed of them. He owned them because they were a part of him.

"I'm mateless, Celeste." "What do you mean?" He sets his drink down, scooting off the bean bag and pushing himself closer to me. He turns his back to me, grabbing his lengthy hair and moving it away from the back of his neck. There, beneath his hairline, is a circle of scarred flesh. As he flexes his neck I could've sworn it had a goldish hue to it. There's raised flesh within the circled scar, slightly pale in color. Two inward curved lines reflect back on each other on opposite sides of the scar. Additionally, a small line lays between the reflection, outward dashes of opposite direction on either end. A slanted slash goes through the middle of the line. It looks wrong on his body, the mar

“He clawed me, opened me up like a deer and then left me to bleed out, on my bedroom floor.” As she says this she pulls away and turns around, lifting the base of my shirt up to her neck she reveals to me her scars. She has four deep lines that run from her right shoulder down to her left hip, at a diagonal, they still look as though they are healing in a way.