Bleach Nothing Can Be Explained Novels & Stories

Too clean. The scent of bleach hits me first—sharp, chemical, stinging the inside of my nose. Antiseptic lingers heavily behind it, mixing into something cold and clinical. All the blood from earlier? Gone. The mess? Gone. The chaos? Erased so thoroughly you’d think the violence was nothing more than a bad dream. Except it wasn’t. And the two bandaged women in the living room are proof.

This was a whole new level of pain. My whole body ached, my breathing was laboured, my eyes watery, my throat dry and scratchy due to all the screaming. The walls were white, bare, devoid of all colour, like they were trying to taunt me. I'm very sure my father was responsible for the lack of pain killer, most likely wanting me to suffer. Some father he is.

"Do you know why we could never conceive all these years, Harvey?" "Why else? It's because your womb is useless! What's the use of marrying you when you can't even bear children?" Harvey's face was bright red as he yelled at me. I wasn't fazed by his agitated reaction. Instead, I flashed a smile at him. "Some people blame others for being infertile when their semen has no sperm, to begin with. People like that deserve to be cheated on." Harvey was stunned, his eyes narrowing with confusion at me. "Quit beating around the bush, Belle. Tell me what you mean by that."