Novel & Cerita Bleach Never Meant To Belong

"A grease spot on the history of this family. A reminder that Vitale blood can mix with gutter water." She reaches out and flicks the collar of my dirty uniform. "And do you know what we do with stains?" she asks. "We don't move them to the mountains. We don't hide them." She straightens up. She looms over me, blocking out the sky. "We use bleach." The threat hangs in the humid air. Bleach. She isn't planning to let me live in the safe house. She isn't planning to let me exist. As soon as the ring is on her finger, as soon as the house belongs to her, she is going to have me erased.

The many washes did not make my eyes any less red, but it made the tears stop and made my vision clear enough for me to see a bottle of bleach on the wood stand above the toilet seat. My hands trembled as I held the bottle in my hand, thinking over and over on the idea I had just conceived and the words I had said to Nana. ‘I get to choose how I die,’ I thought. If this did not kill me, at least it would kill the baby. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth wide and chugged down the bottle of bleach. The reaction took a few seconds, but I soon began to feel stings in my stomach. “Argh!” the pain increasingly got worse. I grabbed my stomach and staggered out of the bathroom, trying to get to the b

I find myself once again sitting in the familiar white leather recliner chair. This place was terrible. The smell of bleach always burnt my nose, it was so sterile. Almost as if they were trying to hide the blood shed they had caused. It freighted me, what did they do in here that required the place to be cleaned so thoroughly, the smell of bleach was consuming. I could only imagine the un-imaginable things they were doing to some of the people here on their visits. I had learnt very early on the only way to survive here is to stay out of trouble and lie.

“Huh… never! Alright… I'll learn it myself… the rule is clear… the rules are clear..you don't teach me… and no touching! In any form." "Deal." I reread the material from the e-mail, I have read it twice… but still I don't understand the meaning of every sentences described at Blaze's latest material. I take my cellphone, I see Blaze just coming out of the bathroom and drying his hair, he grinned at me. His body was wet, with a mass of muscle that was dripping with water… agh… he did it on purpose. Just watch out later… I'll Do a revenge. As he turned and walked toward the wardrobe, I made sure that there really weren't any tattoos on his back. Yup. No.

"Bleach was never a pawn in this game. It is unstable and relentless, do well to remember we can not make an enemy out of it." The girl smirked. "Do not be foolish, we already did when we chose to pursue that artifact….. My love."

"What is bleach known used for?" "I don't know. You tell me. Why do you need so much bleach?" All eyes turned in Portia's direction. Even Cora looked at her mother, waiting for a response. The woman struggled for a while. Just as Scott parted his lips, she said, "Deep cleaning! It's the end of the year. Don't you deep clean your house?" Hearing this response, Scott sighed defeatedly. "I see..." *****

Lance asked, following me down to the hospital as we spoke. “It’s not something that you will understand if I explain with words,” I said nervously. The image of his drawer flashed in my head again and my smile got brighter. “Try me,” he insisted. “Okay, he poured bleach on his mate’s clothes. Trying to fix his mess and entire problem he went online to look for a solution and he saw where they asked him to use soda. Then he poured soda all over his drawer,” I said it all in one breath. Lance took a second to comprehend but then he said, “What?!”

“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.”

Five years of showers that smelled like bleach and despair. Never again. As I reached for the shampoo—a bottle that promised “silky, goddess-like locks”—I couldn’t help but laugh. “Silky locks,” I snorted. “Let’s aim for ‘not resembling a bird’s nest,’ and then we’ll talk.” I scrubbed my scalp until it tingled, rinsed, and repeated like a woman on a mission. By the time I was done, the water had turned downright gross. I pulled the plug, watching the murky evidence of my prison life swirl down the drain.

For a moment, I was back there in a life I didn’t want to remember, surrounded by faces I’d long tried to forget. I tore my gaze away, heart pounding a little faster. I couldn’t let it show. Not even a hint of that past could resurface. Not here. Not now. I squared my shoulders and nodded at my reflection. “Time to bleach you out of existence.” The smell of bleach filled the tiny bathroom, making my nose wrinkle in disgust. I felt like I was withering away. It was pungent, seeping into every corner, mixing with the dampness of old tiles and mildew. I worked quickly, fingers gloved and precise, painting over every traitorous strand until I was satisfied. I watched as the brown vanished, repla