Novel & Cerita Accidentally Mixed Bleach And Ammonia

The latter thought had me disgruntled and in a sour mood. "What's wrong with you?" Blake asked as he barged into my lab, where I'd sequestered myself. "Nothing." I grunted, glaring down at a batch of chemicals I'd mixed wrong. Blake tutted, not taking my word and sidled over to peer down at the muddy brown mixture and wrinkled his nose. "Are you trying to create shit water? This stinks so bad." "It's not shit water," I countered, picking up a spare set of goggles and handed it to him. "Protective gear when you're in my lab, idiot. And I'm testing out what I hoped would be the thing that'd counter Illusion's effects."

I watched in horror as Bryce picked up a pile of white shirts and tossed them straight on top of red, blue, and black clothes. “Stop!” I cried. “What are you doing?” He shrugged. “Mixing them. Like you said, put them inside.” “No, I said separate them!” Too late. They started the cycle. An hour later, we opened the washing machine and stared at the result. My jaw dropped. “What… happened?” Micheal whispered. The once-white shirts were now tinted with sad shades of pink, purple, and gray. Bryce burst into laughter first. “Why does my white polo look like it survived a paint war?”

Sophia was practically sobbing now. "Ma'am! The hospital just called the house. They confirmed there was industrial cleaner mixed into the medication! “Nova wasn't lying! She was trying to save Leo!" Mom’s voice went dead. "Say that again." "I grabbed the wrong bottle!" Sophia cried. "I took it from the chemical closet this morning. “Nova smelled the danger and that’s why she poured it down the sink!" Over the phone, the distinct sound of something heavy crashing to the floor echoed through the receiver.

She dumped the heavy sulfur into the beaker over the roaring flame, forcing a flash boil, and slammed the cold orchid extract straight into the heat. Instantly, the reaction went horribly wrong. The liquid didn't turn a brilliant, clear azure blue. It turned a violent, bubbling, sickly greenish-black. A thick, acrid, suffocating white smoke billowed out of the beaker, carrying a sharp, burning stench of sulfuric acid that made the nearby royal guards cough and cover their faces.

⁠ I⁠ tied a‍ rag around‍ my face like a mask. I po​ured b‍l⁠each on t⁠he floor.⁠ I​ poured bleach‌ on the walls. The s​mell was overp‍ower⁠ing, ch‍emica‍l and sha‍rp‌.​ It burned my‌ e⁠yes, but I lov‍e‍d‌ it. It smelle‌d⁠ like purity. ‍I scrubbed the c‍oncrete⁠ on my h‍ands an⁠d‌ knee​s.⁠ I scrubbed the toilet‌. I s⁠crubbed the s‍ink.

They used freaking chloroform. Neo knew it was easy to make. Just the right mix of bleach and acetone. You didn’t even have to go to the dark web for the ratio. A quick G****e search and he had several YouTube videos on it. There was even something from PBS, but he didn’t click on it. That search probably should have been done in private mode. Too late now. It was there for the world to see. If anyone did a good search, they would see that it was done after she was taken and had arrived at the hospital.

he screamed, stepping back. I grabbed the bleach bottle and hit him on the side his head as hard as I could, causing him to step backward. I took advantage of his momentary unbalance as he rubbed his eyes, knowing that I only had a second. I unscrewed the cap from the bleach bottle and threw the contents at him, causing him to scream out in pain as bleach covered his face and hair. I grabbed the broom and, finding sudden strength, rammed my foot into the wooden handle, breaking it in half.

The descent of the chemical waterfall took exactly two point four seconds. For those two seconds, the subterranean junction was trapped in a suspended, agonizing silence, broken only by the heavy, synchronized breathing of two hundred Lycan omegas and the rushing black water thirty feet below. Then, the payload hit the surface. The collision was not a splash. It was an industrial detonation. Hundreds of gallons of boiling liquid silver, concentrated industrial bleach, and caustic lye slammed into the freezing, fast moving current of the deep aqueduct. The violent clash of extreme temperatures and highly reactive chemicals triggered an instantaneous, explosive vaporization.

I let out a sharp breath and pushed the bedsheet away. “I really thought it was dye, I promise.” I defended myself, though not with much confidence, feeling quite confused. I truly believe that was bleach. I believed it was simply the natural shade of blue that would make it appear whiter. “Take a look,” she said, pulling out the bleach she had brought and opening it for me to see. It is nearly colorless, much like water. I trembled in disbelief; this was worse than anything I had ever experienced.

"I’ll make sure you never forget." I grabbed the kitchen shears I’d swiped from the drawer. I hacked at the dark hair, watching the long, silky strands fall into the sink like dead things. Then, I grabbed the box of "Golden Honey" bleach I’d seen hidden in the back of the linen closet—the stuff Mom said we were too young for. I didn't care about being young. I didn't care about being pretty. I mixed the chemicals, the smell burning the back of my throat. I slathered it onto my head, my hands shaking with a fury that felt like fire.