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.

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.

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

I ignored the pains between my legs and proceeded to the bathroom. I shut the door behind me to avoid him walking on me. He might have his way with me here in the bathroom again. I was not ready for that. I might pass out. I grabbed the second toothbrush and made use of it. Turning on the shower, I stood underneath and washed myself. I took a soft sponge and did the necessary scrubbing. I washed myself and stared at my swollen eyes in the mirror. I washed my hair and after a few minutes, I was done.

"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 have really screwed up now, haven’t I?” Yes, you have. My wolf doesn’t cut me any slack and lets me know that I’ve messed up. Hopefully, it’s not beyond repair. “I know that, so you don’t have to tell me, wolf.” My attention turns back to the task at hand as I search through the cabinets for something to clean the blood up. The only thing I find is a gallon of bleach under the sink. It will probably be enough to clean the living room, but that is all it would cover. There just isn’t enough, and it’s not like we are close to a store or anything to get more.

, 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.