Bleach Quincy Oc Novels & Stories

I crack my neck and stand, not feeling any more rested than I did last night. “Did they clean the bathroom?” I ask her. “You’ll smell it when you walk out. Apparently, they were told to get every spot of blood off the tile and out of the grout. They used a lot of bleach,” she says, taking the seat I was sitting in. I look over Christy’s vital signs, checking the recordings from overnight before finally stepping outside. I’m a bit surprised to see that Quirin is gone, but there’s nothing comfortable about sleeping in waiting room chairs.

rather than replying, "And who are they? And where am I?" She replied, "I am sure you meant to refer to those gorgeous hotties; haven't they introduced themselves to you yet?" This time, I decided to refrain from responding to her and instead let her enlighten me. "Quen happens to be a close friend of ours, in fact, Blaze's best friend who lives with us, but it's an extended narrative for some other time as I don't want to bore you with our lives, so I'll just introduce myself as Blythe, Blaze's sister."

After all, after having a few drinks, it felt like the perfect time to indulge. As soon as they stepped into the villa, Quinn headed straight for the bathroom. After all, she had gotten pretty sweaty after helping Nadia to her apartment, and she had never liked the smell of sweat on her. Quinn was in high spirits. She hummed a happy tune while she showered. Yet, she had barely begun her shower when the lights in the bathroom suddenly flickered out. Quinn was rendered speechless. Could there really be a power outage in an upscale neighborhood like this?

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.

I got him his favorite cake, but I knew he probably wouldn't have a single bite. … When I came home, I noticed a pair of red heels sitting outside the door. The porch was filled with the scent of another woman's perfume. It had a sharp stench, a hallmark of cheap perfume. I soon heard exaggerated sounds of teasing coming from the bedroom. "Your wife's not going to show up out of nowhere, is she, darling?" "Who cares about that hag? She's busy making money. She doesn't have time for me," said Quincy. His voice was flippant, almost sleazy. That sounded nothing like him at all.

I crack my neck and stand, not feeling any more rested than I did last night. “Did they clean the bathroom?” I ask her. “You’ll smell it when you walk out. Apparently, they were told to get every spot of blood off the tile and out of the grout. They used a lot of bleach,” she says, taking the seat I was sitting in. I look over Christy’s vital signs, checking the recordings from overnight before finally stepping outside. I’m a bit surprised to see that Quirin is gone, but there’s nothing comfortable about sleeping in waiting room chairs.

Her dress and walking gait is a bold combination that doesn't beg for attention but instead, DEMANDS attention. “Quincy!” Both Zuby and Brie call the name at the same time after the lady—who is now revealed to be the Quincy—reaches us. One after the other, they hug and peek Quincy’s cheeks before letting her go. “You guys look so amazing! I'm so happy to see you guys!” Quincy squeals happily, and I don't know why, but her smile is so fucking beautiful and contagious. She looks like she is glowing and happy not just because she is the birthday celebrant, but like this is who she is every normal day of her life.

I only came up for air and it was somewhere on the bottom. “Quincy Bay. I drive here to rewind. The ocean, the sand... and they have the best burger down the streets there.” He announced, his head relaxing on the cushioned headrest. I allowed my eyes to travel around our surroundings. It was a lovely place, with lots and lots of shops on the other side of the street and behind us, because in front of us was nothing but sand very blue waters that stretched outwards. Blue! Fuck. It hurts. It hurts so much.

The faint smell of bleach was familiar to him now. Hospitals always seemed to smell that way. Like refrigerated bleach. Spencer and Sabrina sat on either side of him. Spencer was still, like a statue in a park. The only signs of life Will could even detect was an occasional blink and his shoulders moving with each breath. How could someone be so still? Sabrina on the other hand was a fidgety mess. Her legs bounced, and she wrung her hands together. A violent shiver would run through her body from time to time.

Increase the dose. I suck in air too fast. The room tilts. Jeremy catches it on my face. "Adis." "Bleach," I mutter. "There was a room. Clinic room." His good hand grips the back of my neck, grounding me. "Stay here." As if I can do anything else. Boots hammer across concrete. More people now. Familiar scents break through blood and dust. Soap and pine smoke. Amber. Panic hits harder than the shock did.