Bleach On A Cold Sore Novels & Stories

“He told me what I need to do to try to heal you but it’s gonna hurt like a bitch.” “Just do it.” I reached up to stroke his jaw, relishing the way his stubble tickled my hand. “You can make me feel all better when I’m well. We both know how good you are at it.” He actually cracked a smirk at that, sweet victory swelling in my chest. “I’ll be right back.” He kissed my forehead then left the room. “What the fuck is that smell?” I asked when he returned, trying not to gag. “Garlic extract. The rag is soaked in it. We need to keep it on the bite until the punctures close and the burning subsides. Christian said it’ll probably get worse before it gets better.”

Just how I liked it. By the time I finished, my scalp burned slightly, a prickling reminder of the lengths I was willing to go. I washed my hands, the cold water soothing against my skin. As I rinsed off the bleach, droplets splattered against the porcelain sink, swirling down the drain. Then a honk startled me. Short. Loud. Annoying.

Then I got up and left the room. I went straight to the kitchen and found the container of their first aid kit. In the search, I found it right away. I wash my wound without stopping the bleeding, but when I licked the blood using my mouth, I was shocked when the bleeding stopped. I approached the table where I put the cotton and medicine. I took the cotton and added betadine. The wound was no longer bleeding. And I even applied cotton to it. At first, I felt some pain. The second smear was less painful.