Bleach On Hands Burning Novels & Stories

My fingers gripped the tiled wall, my breathing uneven as memories I had spent the whole day suppressing resurfaced one after another. No matter how much I scrubbed my skin... No matter how hot the water became... I couldn't wash away the feeling that I was dirty. Eventually, the burning sensation became impossible to ignore. I turned off the shower and stepped out, wrapping a towel loosely around my waist. The mirror had fogged over completely, but I didn't need to see my reflection to know what I'd done. My chest, shoulders and arms were covered in angry red patches where the hot water had nearly scalded me.

AMARACHI I screamed immediately the hot water touched my skin. I tried removing my hands at that moment but aunty Lydia held my wrist tight. I screamed some more in pains as I could feel my skin peeling off then at once she let go of my wrist. I quickly removed my hands out of the bowl and stared at my blistered hands. My hands were literally shaking and I was quivering in fear and shock. "Aunty!"i screamed at aunty Lydia. "Why are you so wicked!?"I added in screams of agony and pains.

She looked down and saw her hands burning in golden flame. The Heavenly fire, she breathed. The flame was beautiful and magnificent. It radiates life and power. It danced on her hand, making her skin looked pale and coppery. It wasn't painful nor hot in her hands. She realized she's been holding her breath and let out a deep one.

SEVEN The slippery liquid burned my lips as soon as it made contact. It was as if I had lit a match and brought it to my lips. Quickly, I moved the bottle away and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. My tongue accidentally brushed my lips. The bleach tasted awful. I retched and spat on the floor. The awful taste lingered on the tip of my tongue, but I had another problem. There was a burning sensation in my eyes. Tears swiftly flooded into them, causing my vision to be blurry. I pinched my hospital gown and then wiped my eyes with it.

Heat akin to flames lapping at bare skin kisses my face, my arms… my hands. Oh, my hands. With all ten fingers red and swollen it’s barely recognizable with all ten fingernails pulled out. It’s only at this time that I feel where the burning comes from. It isn’t from a fire but the pain coming from my wounded hands. Blood flows steadily from my nails as a wretched scream tears out of me. No! Please! “You beg?” The voice says again like white noise grating at my nerves. “You didn’t stop when they begged you, did you?”

I have some burn cream. This was the second part of my plan. I had also bought some chemicals, some sulphuric acid to help make those burns more severe. I had mixed some of that acid into a tube of cooling cream and when we rushed back to my place, I squeezed out the yellow ooze onto his hands and he screamed again. 'Oh my god, that stings!' he yelled. Mum ran in shouted, 'What have you done?' and called an ambulance. Before it came, I threw the tube of creamy acid in the bin. No more need for that.

Not now. I crossed the room and stripped out of my uniform with clumsy fingers, fabric sticking to the burns on my palms. A sharp hiss escaped me before I could stop it. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood, forcing the sound back down. The wash basin waited in the corner. I heated the water only enough to steam and washed quickly. There was no relief in it, but the ritual helped. When I finished, I wrapped my hands in clean linen, though I knew it would do little.

My mind begins to wander as I stand here, lost in my thoughts. Just as I am about to flip the eggs over, my hand slips and I burn myself on the hot pan. I hiss in pain, quickly pulling my hand away and cradling it against my chest. The skin is already starting to blister, a bright red mark against my pale skin. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but the burn hurts like hell.

I kept repeating as I watched blood ooze out of my hand. The bleeding was crazy. Blood got into the sink and the floor that was stained with a warm brown color a few minutes ago was now stained with a bright red one. The worst part of this was that I didn’t even know what to do. I know from shows I’ve watched on television and all that I’m not supposed to yank the glass piece out, but I couldn’t help but think that it'd hurt way less if the glass piece wasn’t still lodged in my palm. In an attempt to cool down the burning sensation I felt, I ran my hand under some cold water, but that didn’t really offer me much relief. “Shit,” I groaned in pain as I took my hand out from under the running w

I reached the door and grabbed the handle. And screamed. The metal was burning.. It seared my palm the second I touched it. I yanked my hand back. The pain was immediate. I looked at my palm. It was red and blistering. The skin was already bubbling. "Shit! Shit!!" I backed up. My back hit the wall. I looked at the door. The smoke was thicker now. It was coming through the cracks. Around the edges. Under the frame. It was everywhere. It was filling the hallway.