Bleach On Hands Burning Novels & Stories

I connected my phone and let the screen glow to life. For a while, I just scrolled—Instagram, texts, mindless nothing—filling Jade in on my apparent life sentence one message at a time. Her rapid-fire responses came through in all caps and rage emojis, which only made me snort softly into the quiet room. Eventually, though, the weight of the day caught up to me. My eyes burned. My fingers slowed. The screen blurred as my eyelids drooped lower and lower, each blink lasting a little longer than the last.

Cloe jumped out of bed when she smelled the burning chicken. “ Oh, boy!” she rushed to the stove and for a second of carelessness, with two bare hands, pulled out the scalding hot pan. With a scream she threw the pan on the floor with the roasted chicken sinking to the kitchen floor. Tulio stood beside him in despair as he saw his hands red from the burn. “ My love!” he then led her weeping to the kitchen sink and while leaving her hands in the stream of the faucet, with trembling hands he called his grandmother who arrived a few minutes later with an aloe leaf and a handful of balm leaves.

Quickly, I turn off the gas, and in my absence of mind I pick up the cooking pan with my bare hands. "Fuck!" It burns me immediately and I drop it, Aleen is beside me in an instant, she grabs my hand and directs me to the sink, she holds my hand palm open under the running water. "Sorry. Does it hurt badly?" She asks me, bright eyes holding mine apologetically as the cold water soothes the sharpness of the burn. Turns out I am not as badly burnt as it felt, it was just too sudden and took me by surprise. "No. No, I think I am fine." I tell her. Relief washes over her beautiful features.

After we were done, I took the dishes back to the kitchen to wash them up. “Ah!” I screamed when the water from the kitchen tap touched my hands. Pain shot through me and I yanked my hand back, cradling it to my chest. When I looked down, I saw that my skin was starting to blister. “Aiden!” I called out, panic rising in my chest. “The water…. It’s… it’s burning me!”

But he only ever wanted our relationship to be inappropriate. I laid out some clothes on my bed and went into the bathroom that was attached to my bedroom. My hand was throbbing in pain, I could see bits of skin that were already peeling from the burn. I ran some cold water over the raw flesh, but it hurt too bad. White spots danced in my vision and I had to stop. I needed to shower, then I’d deal with my hand. I got into the tub, careful not to let the warm water touch my hand, and reflected on what happened.

The festival would be beginning in just a few hours and I still had to get ready. Once Elijah returned to his work outside, I headed upstairs to take a bath. It was a bit of a challenge to undress with my injured hands, but I managed, sinking into the warm water with a sigh of relief. Alone in the bath, I examined my bandaged hands. The gauze was already spotted with pink where the burn cream had mixed with fluid from the blisters. I’d have to be careful today, avoid shaking too many hands or doing anything strenuous, but it would be fine.

"Mm-hmm. It's nothing. I already rinsed it with cold water. It doesn't hurt now." Sebastian shook his head seriously. Ten years as a firefighter had shown him countless burn injuries. The blisters on Claire's hand were severe. She needed ointment immediately. "That won't do. I know burns. Blisters like these can't be treated with just cold water. It might feel fine now, but tomorrow it will get worse." When Claire saw his serious expression, her heart tensed, yet she didn't pull her hand away. "What? Is it that serious? Then, Sebastian, can you help me apply the ointment?"

Like nothing. "You missed a spot," Killian said, pointing with the toe of his boot to a place near my knee. I moved to it, scrubbing harder, putting all my remaining strength into making it disappear. The bleach splashed onto my hand where the skin was already torn and raw. It burned like someone had poured acid on my flesh. I gasped, the sound ragged and airless, and jerked my hand back instinctively. "Silence," Carmina hissed. She raised her cane high above her head.

The freezing water from the garage hose hit Aryan’s sliced palms like liquid fire. He gasped loudly, his breath misting in the cold air. The chemical car soap seeped directly into the deep, jagged cuts left by Ashok Khandelwal’s shattered champagne glasses. It was a blinding, agonizing burn that made his vision swim with dark spots.

He didn't respond to my questions. He walked over to me and squatted in front of me. I held my breath as he reached gently for my hand. He opened the balm and uncapped it, “It won't sting but it will burn for a little while. The scald will heal faster and it won't leave a scar.” “You sound like an expert,” I commented. His movements faltered but he didn't comment. What was that about? He applied the cream gently on my hands and yes, it burned. A lot. I wanted to retract my hand immediately and blow it as much as I could or even soak it in water, as stupid as that is.