Bleach Spoon Novels & Stories

he yelled. "Anything else? Shit? Jerk?" Lynn continued laughing. "You can't even cuss, Mahone. How are you going to make an infinite mirror, huh? Listen, you better get out from this damn room, or I am going to call Father. He's in his study room." Mahone put down his safety glasses and stood up, shooting a passionate glance at his project, "Tu es horrible frère!" Lynn heard that and laughed in mind. "Use at least seventy percent alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, bleach, isopropyl alcohol and wipe the sheets with a microfiber cloth. I hope you find the chemicals in your school lab," he moved away from the door.

he yelled. "Anything else? Shit? Jerk?" Lynn continued laughing. "You can't even cuss, Mahone. How are you going to make an infinite mirror, huh? Listen, you better get out from this damn room, or I am going to call Father. He's in his study room." Mahone put down his safety glasses and stood up, shooting a passionate glance at his project, "Tu es horrible frère!" Lynn heard that and laughed in mind. "Use at least seventy percent alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, bleach, isopropyl alcohol and wipe the sheets with a microfiber cloth. I hope you find the chemicals in your school lab," he moved away from the door.

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 stings my nose as I pour it onto the sponge, the liquid sloshing ov

"It's bad. I think maybe if I open the windows and air it out, it might help some, but there's no question that it's going to take some bleach, too. Lots of bleach." Jenny nodded slowly. "Okay. So . . . we need bleach. And vinegar and baking soda." At my questioning glance, she explained, "It's good for cleaning sinks and showers and toilets. Great for deodorizing, too." She looked back at my car. "It's not furnished, is it?"

, I asked. If there's paint , there is a paint thinner. I might have a good idea about distractions. "No acetone ...", She breathed out. " What do you want to do with it ?",$he asked again. " What else is in there ?", I asked and heard her ruffle more into the shelves . " cleaning supplies , garden hose , bleach bottle , car batteries... What is this ?",

Harper’s POV My leg knocks into something, and it clatters to the ground. “Crap,” I mutter bleach spills out faster than I can catch it. The clear liquid rushes out of the bottle, spilling everywhere. By the time I stand the bottle back up, a large puddle sits in the middle of the floor. I grab for some rags, but there aren’t enough to soak up the entire spill. The acidic scent of bleach fills the air and sends my head spinning.

The bathroom door is locked. I checked it three times. Click. Jiggle. Secure. I am alone in the small, tiled box. The air smells of cheap lemon cleaner and my own nervous sweat. The fan overhead rattles, a mechanical wheeze that grates on my nerves. On the white porcelain of the sink, I have arranged them. Clearblue. First Response. E.P.T. I take them out of the packaging. The foil crinkles loudly in the silence. I place the plastic sticks in a row, parallel to the edge of the sink. They look like instruments. Like scalpels.

Blood smears across the carpet, dark streaks that'll never come out. Good thing this place sees worse things than murder. The bathtub is barely big enough, but I manage to fold him inside. His head lolls at an unnatural angle. I turn away, focusing on the next step. Bleach. Lots of it. The motel's supply closet is a joke—just cleaning rags and half-empty bottles. But there's enough bleach to burn away DNA. I pour it over everything: the carpet, the walls, the doorknobs. The chemical smell makes my eyes water.

he yelled. "Anything else? Shit? Jerk?" Lynn continued laughing. "You can't even cuss, Mahone. How are you going to make an infinite mirror, huh? Listen, you better get out from this damn room, or I am going to call Father. He's in his study room." Mahone put down his safety glasses and stood up, shooting a passionate glance at his project, "Tu es horrible frère!" Lynn heard that and laughed in mind. "Use at least seventy percent alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, bleach, isopropyl alcohol and wipe the sheets with a microfiber cloth. I hope you find the chemicals in your school lab," he moved away from the door.

I let out a sharp breath and pushed the bedsheet away. “I really thought it was dye, I promise.” I defended myself, though not with much confidence, feeling quite confused. I truly believe that was bleach. I believed it was simply the natural shade of blue that would make it appear whiter. “Take a look,” she said, pulling out the bleach she had brought and opening it for me to see. It is nearly colorless, much like water. I trembled in disbelief; this was worse than anything I had ever experienced.