Bleach Novels & Stories

I clench my fists, determined to prove her wrong. As she turns to leave, a wicked grin playing on her lips, she pauses and looks back at me. “One last thing, Xavie listens to me. We don’t want him to change his mind about you now, do we, Luna?” she sneers, chucking the bleach at me. My heart sinks as I realise the lid isn’t on the bleach, and it pours over me, burning my skin and ruining what’s left of my dress. I bite my trembling lower lip, vowing not to let her break me.

The me that hated her and her presence in my house and her body filling my shirt and that pussy that was still— “I found the cleaning supplies, Cass, I’m not so sure about the— “, Ice stopped, looked between me and Cassie before he placed some cleaning rag and a bottle of some shit that looked like bleach on the counter. Cassie turned around and I stood still where I was. Ice called her Cass? “Thanks so much, Ice. I really appreciate it, I’m sorry about the mess again” She was telling him, sorry? “It’s my kitchen”, I growled behind her, Red didn’t turn around to face me. “You found the bleach?” she lifted the bottle of supposed

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I ignored the pains between my legs and proceeded to the bathroom. I shut the door behind me to avoid him walking on me. He might have his way with me here in the bathroom again. I was not ready for that. I might pass out. I grabbed the second toothbrush and made use of it. Turning on the shower, I stood underneath and washed myself. I took a soft sponge and did the necessary scrubbing. I washed myself and stared at my swollen eyes in the mirror. I washed my hair and after a few minutes, I was done.

I agree with him, our packhouse, while small, is immaculate, yet the cleaning products' smell was subtle. We follow Walter towards the south of the building and through a set of double doors that reveal a long corridor with rooms down either side. A floor to ceiling window at the end of the corridor is bathing the area with sunlight. The smell of lemon bleach is even stronger here, with a subtle scent of drainage. Clearly, maintenance is needed, and the bleach is just covering the problem.

She was shorter than them, and had never used anything from them when she was having her bath. Frantically, she hurried into the room once more and carried one of the bedside drawers into the bathroom. It was quite heavy, but she managed to do it and placed it right below the cabinets. She was sweating now, even with the cold air surrounding the room. Her dress clinged to her with stickiness as she climbed onto the drawer. The drawer was perfect for the job, because now she could see and rummage through the cabinets clearly. The overhead cabinets were filled with cans of different sizes, bleach , detergent, some tapes...

The words on the sheet blurred in front of Lisa's eyes as she struggled to focus. The scrawled handwriting was barely legible, but the implications were chilling. The plant extract was more than just a sedative—it was a potent neurotoxin, capable of inducing a coma-like state that could last indefinitely if not treated correctly. Her breath caught in her throat as she read the final lines: *"Dosage must be exact. Overdose leads to permanent brain damage. Known antidote: rare, difficult to synthesize."*

“I have really screwed up now, haven’t I?” Yes, you have. My wolf doesn’t cut me any slack and lets me know that I’ve messed up. Hopefully, it’s not beyond repair. “I know that, so you don’t have to tell me, wolf.” My attention turns back to the task at hand as I search through the cabinets for something to clean the blood up. The only thing I find is a gallon of bleach under the sink. It will probably be enough to clean the living room, but that is all it would cover. There just isn’t enough, and it’s not like we are close to a store or anything to get more.

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 sti

The Osaka brief is different from everything that came before it. Not in its principle — the principle is the same, has always been the same — but in its articulation. Yuki's sentence gave her a new layer of language: the time inside the structure. Applied to the lacquerware, it says: what you see is the result of what you cannot see. The forty layers are invisible in the finished surface, but present in everything the surface is. The depth you perceive when you look into a piece of urushi is literal — you are perceiving the accumulated time of the making.