Under Your Scars (Under Your Scars, #1)

by Ariel N. Anderson

If that implication ever leaves your mouth, or this room, or you so much as think it again, I will shove a lawsuit so far up your ass you’ll be able to taste paper.

There’s a saying that every seven years, your body will be new. The same, but all your cells will be replaced. In seven years, I’ll have a body that Frank and Neil would have never touched.

as a trauma survivor, this healed something in me. I never knew this.

Safe isn’t a place. It’s the people that love you.

😩😭💔

‘I’m gonna show you how the cow ate the cabbage’

Lolololol

Brave. That’s the word people use to describe you when you’re a victim and they want to support you but don’t know how. But I don’t feel brave. I feel broken.

I get this so deeply. I have always hated when people called me brave because first of all, what choice did I have but to survive? And secondly, I WISH I felt brave. It feels like a taunt every time I hear it, when I know that's not the intention behind the words, which only serves to make me feel guilty.

The man who pushes me because he knows my strengths even more intimately than he knows how to exploit my weaknesses.

“I think that’s the harsh reality of being a woman,” my mother continues, “we’re always so focused on everyone else, that we forget we need to take care of ourselves, too.”

ain't that the cold, hard-dicked truth