Scars Cut Deeper Than Wounds [Rewritten]

Chapter 1: A New Beginning

Notes:

- For the comfort of all readers, I have made all the characters above 20, unless mentioned otherwise. However, you can age them however you like.
- Credit for the cover photo belongs to: ceejles.tumblr.com (tumblr) @ceejurs (twitter).

[WARNING] There are certain sensitive aspects of this book that could act as a trigger. I will place trigger warnings at the beginning of certain chapters.

[Trigger Warning] Suggestive comments.

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The darkness formed a cloak around her shadowing her from the rest of the world, but also making her the perfect target. As she limped, her heels clicked on the floor and echoed. The noise only reminded her of the fact that she was alone in a new city that she'd hopped through a portal to get to.

She pulled off the glasses and placed them safely in her purse and as if by instinct, or perhaps some sort of reassurance, she touched her ears and was met with the familiar cool touch of her earrings reminding her that she was in fact not alone. In her purse, stuffing herself with cookies to get ready for any attacks, was her beloved kwami, Tikki.

Her stomach growled angrily begging for food and her feet screamed at her to kick off her heels and give herself a well-needed foot massage. She groaned as she felt the throbbing of her head and felt sick. Was it perhaps from fear?

Or something else?

She felt tears beginning to form, but quickly wiped them away and continued to walk down the lonely street in her shredded pastel pink lace dress.

How long had she been walking?
Where was she walking to?

Her eyes searched and her mind wandered as she asked herself these questions.

A presence made itself known as it appeared behind her, matching her pace.

She tensed.

Was this the time for a little of Ladybug's luck?

Transforming in plain sight was a dumb idea, however, she knew not of the dangers of these foreign streets and she was definitely not equipped for a fight, her purse being the closest thing to a weapon.

Despite her days as Ladybug, she hadn't fought one-on-one with a person in her natural form and won. Her circumstances had also left no room for learning. Anything she did learn had been tempered away by the conditioning of her beloved. He had made her soft. Soft and weak.

A million what-ifs ran around in her mind, colliding with each other and providing her with a growing headache.

She had to choose.

As she came to an abrupt stop, so did the person behind her.

With a huff, she whispered the words, "Tikki. Spo-" A loud thud from behind shut her mouth in an instant and she almost jumped out of her skin as she felt the man's scream echo in the air.

Then everything went silent.

"Mind telling me what you're doing roaming around the streets of Gotham at 2 in the morning?" A voice cut through the silence, their deep American accent almost ruining their fluent French.

"How do you know I'm French?" she asked in English. Marinette had yet to turn around and meet the new man.

"You're the embodiment of a typical French person."

Her beret sat lightly on her head, its weight growing along with her nerves. "Isn't that a bit assumptive?"

"Maybe." he took a step closer, "But your thick French accent also gave it away."