Bleach Asylum Novels & Stories

I say as I punch the wall in frustration. I have to think of something. “Bleach.” I say to myself with a smile. I could use bleach since I don’t have the drug I wanted to use. Injecting someone with it or drinking it could lead to death. This is the only choice I have. I exit the room and I look around for a maintenance closet, somewhere where things like bleach are kept. I walk down the stairs and I can hear Robert’s footsteps as he continues his search. The silence in the house is deafening. Everybody has gone, even the rest of the guards.

~~ Dahlia ~~ The second I slammed my hotel room door shut, I bolted straight for the bathroom like a woman possessed. Not for the toilet, not for the shower… no. For the sink. I snatched my toothbrush like it was a weapon, slapped toothpaste on it like I was squeezing venom from a snake, and shoved it in my mouth. Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. “Oh my God, oh my GOD,” I garbled around foamy bubbles, staring at my own reflection like I was in a horror movie. “I’ve been assaulted. My lips have been… contaminated. I need bleach.“

It wanted to fall into place. I forced my breath steady, the way my mother taught me, the way you steady your hands before stitching a wound. Then I spoke the only words that had ever worked. “ASH.” Black cinders rose off the floor, spiraling around the circle. The runes flared, resisting, but the ash didn’t care. It tightened, thickened, becoming a wall—around Dax’s ankles, around the etched lines, smothering the glow. For one heartbeat, the pull on him eased.

It had turned out Azelie and Nyoka had gotten into a huge fight when they hit twenty, and had never spoken to each other again nor seen each other. She hadn't had the chance to fully stab me, maybe she was too riled up, maybe a small part of her felt bad for trying to kill a five year old, maybe there was a different reason. But she had broken skin, and that area where the blade cut into my flesh became permanently scarred. Typically wolves could heal so well and so fast we didn't scar. But such was the power of wolfsbane. From that point on I avoided ever taking my shirt off around other people besides my immediate family. Even when shifting. If I did take my shirt off while shifting, I mad

It smelled the same. The very distinct scent of bleach and ‘white’ was everywhere in the small clinic ward attached to the hospital. Abigail sat patiently in the reception room, waiting for the nurse to call her name. The anticipation was maddening. She was unconscious the last time she entered this hospital, so Abigail had no idea that the wait was so frustrating.

Wednesday. Creed of Truth Sanctuary, Brazil. MAX HELD UP A hand to shield his eyes as he stared out over the deep pool. They were close to fifty yards above the water. He stared down into the blue depths, but that wasn't what he saw. This morning still weighed heavily on him. Aspen's explanation of the system here behind the scenes made him sick to his stomach. Aspen was a kid. She shouldn't be involved in this shit, and yet she was. Because her piece of shit, father.

Nina beckoned me to follow her deeper into the asylum. We moved through corridors lined with peeling wallpaper and the scent of decay. The whispers of lost souls echoed around us, an eerie soundtrack to our unfolding connection. With each step, the atmosphere grew heavier, thick with tension and the remnants of pain that lingered in the air. As we entered a dimly lit room, the oppressive weight of the asylum closed in around us. The flickering candlelight illuminated the space, revealing remnants of the past—broken furniture, rusted instruments, and faded photographs of the patients who once filled these halls.

Trayrock, Present Time “What about being scared I’ll turn people’s brains into scrambled eggs?” Aislen said to Heath under her breath as they navigated the congested entrance to the hospital. The carpet was faded underfoot, and the hospital smelled of disinfectant, sickness, and coffee from the café to the left of the sliding doors as they entered. There was a reception desk to the right, but Heath headed straight towards the staircase that dominated the foyer as if he knew where he was going. Which he did, she realized searching his thoughts. He had, of course, looked it up online.

“Oh, it’s you.” Heath lifted his eyebrows. “What the f-k is that?” “The cause of my headache,” Tyler replied ruefully, setting it onto the hall table and stepping back so that Heath could step into the house. The stink of bleach had Heath recoiling. “Gah, reeks.” “Yeah, sorry. Blood is an arsehole to get out of carpet and Aislen dripped it all the way down the hall when she tried to drown that man, apparently.” Heath’s jaw unhinged. “What the f-k? Aislen!” He called out in alarm, heading for the bedroom.

He looked around at his companions, seeking answers that appeared just as elusive to them as to him. "Guys, there's no time for questions," Thorian's voice sliced through the tension, authoritative and clear. The others nodded in quick agreement, sensing the urgency in his tone. Nash, eager to heed Thorian's command, made a move towards the door, hand poised to twist the knob. However, a sudden and strange occurrence interrupted their escape plan. Ashley, one of their group, entered an eerie trance-like state. Her once lively eyes turned pure white, her expression distant as she began to perceive unsettling images of injured men armed with an array of weapons, their grim presence converging