Accidentally Mixed Bleach And Ammonia Novels & Stories

“Powdered bleach. Gotta lighten your hair first so the pink sticks better. Otherwise, you’ll just end up with a muddy mess.” I blinked at him, still highly skeptical. “Bleach? As in, the stuff that could potentially melt my hair off my head?” “Exactly that,” he said cheerfully, dipping the brush into the bowl before flicking his gaze back to mine. “That’s why I’m doing it and not letting you fuck it up. Used wrong, this stuff can do a lot worse than just melt your hair—it can cause chemical burns, turn your scalp into a horror show. You might even go bald.”

Alexia asked curiously. Amanda hushed her and told her to remain still. She did. The woman came back after a long while and handed two bottles over to Amanda. "The bottle with the white content is to neutralize Harriet's protection barrier. The bottle with black content will help you kill your target faster. Only a drop is ok." Claudia explained. Amanda took them and turned around but Claudia called her name and she turned around again. "What!?" Amanda barked at the woman. "Only a drop of the poison and neutralizer. Just a drop dear Amanda." Claudia said.

The warm water cascaded down my body, washing away the exhaustion of the day. I reached for the shampoo and started lathering my hair, humming along to the music still playing in my room. But then, disaster struck. In my relaxed state, I accidentally knocked over the shower gel bottle with my elbow. It fell with a loud clatter, hitting the edge of the bathtub before exploding open, covering the entire floor in a soapy mess. My eyes widened in horror as I watched the liquid spread like a mini flood, the suds growing taller with every passing second.

It’s thick, metallic and then I remember where we are. It clings to the air like a suffocating fog, sinking into my nostrils and coating the back of my throat. I gag on it as bile rises into the back of my mouth. Then I smell bleach mixed in. The tang burns my nose, and for a split second, I can’t tell if the sting in my eyes is from the fumes or the growing panic in my chest. We slept in this. I cleaned the floor last night, scrubbed this spot until my hands were raw, but now the mix of blood and bleach is even worse. It’s foul and chemical, like something rotting beneath sterile lies.

"Go back to the archives and fix your neck because the smell of those chemicals is giving me a headache." I didn't wait for a second invitation. I scrambled for the door, unlocked it with shaking hands, and practically fell into the hallway. I didn't stop running until I reached the basement bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face, looking at my reflection. The ‘rash’ was itchy and burning, but it had saved me. But as I looked at the red mess, a wave of sadness hit me. Damon had looked so hopeful for a split second—so desperate to find a connection and I had given him a face full of bleach-smelling hives.

I open the lid and gasp when I look at the white clothes. They are all pink! How did this happen? Could it be because of the different types of detergents I mixed together? I frantically take out the clothes and try to separate them, hoping to salvage what I can. Did I accidentally swap the bleach and detergent containers with something else? I groan in frustration as I realize my mistake. If Rosemary found out about this, she would be furious! I know there's no time to waste if I want to fix this mess.

Blood smears across the carpet, dark streaks that'll never come out. Good thing this place sees worse things than murder. The bathtub is barely big enough, but I manage to fold him inside. His head lolls at an unnatural angle. I turn away, focusing on the next step. Bleach. Lots of it. The motel's supply closet is a joke—just cleaning rags and half-empty bottles. But there's enough bleach to burn away DNA. I pour it over everything: the carpet, the walls, the doorknobs. The chemical smell makes my eyes water.

I poured ammonia over the back seat where I had bled and walked to my bike. I had taken my bloodied clothes and I poured ammonia over the blood and threw them into a dumpster behind the restaurant. Even if they were found there would be no usable evidence on them but I would have preferred to burn them, I just didn’t have the time or means to do it now. Levi would be shaking his head if he could see me.

I put the axe away and joined James where he’d already poured the bleach into the bucket. “Got two brushes.” I threw one to him and he dipped it into the bucket. I poured the bleach directly on the blood and started scrubbing as James shook his head and started from the other side. James and I scrubbed that area until there couldn’t possibly be any traces of blood left. When the smell of bleach overwhelmed us, I took the black bags to the Jeep and opened the boot. I placed three black bags on the floor of the boot and then loaded Mia inside. James locked the den’s door and got into the passenger seat.

Every second that ticks by is another chance for someone to walk in, to see this nightmare. I stumble toward the kitchen, my legs unsteady, the pain in my head a constant drumbeat. The linoleum is cold under my bare feet, and I brace myself against the counter, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I need to clean this up little by little before they arrive, at least enough to buy time until he and his crew arrive. I yank open the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a bottle of bleach, a sponge, and a pair of rubber gloves. My hands tremble as I slip the gloves on, the rubber snapping against my wrists. The smell of bleach stings my nose as I pour it onto the sponge, the liquid sloshing ov