The scars were both a source of pride for what I had overcome and a roadmap of where I'd come form, a map that could help others escape all the faster.
I never burn, so the day I did, and that burn glowed red in the shape of a heart, I knew my far away lover was hurting. Turns out someone he loved had died and it was the right moment to offer support. I know the universe loves me, because I'm a good person, so if I get hurt the message is serious and vital. Once the blister passed, a plumped up oval of a thing, it shrank and became a scar that reminds me of a little fish. Needless to say I'm far more careful with the oven now. No more burns, no more scars.
The scar had become a narrow thread of silver that glowed in the sunlight.
The scars were as much a part of what built me as the molecules that made me, for they were the suffering that made my hero self rise.