Bleach Spoon Novelas e Histórias

Lucy whispered, her voice barely audible. "I... I was trying to move it," Zoe stammered, her words coming out in a rush. "I thought it was hanging too close to the heater, I was holding my wine, and I reached for the dress, but I tripped over my own heels. I grabbed the cleaning supplies on the shelf to steady myself, and the bleach cap wasn't on right... it just happened so fast, Lucy. I tried to wipe it off, but it made it worse." Lucy looked at the shelf Zoe was pointing to. The bleach had been tucked away in the back of the closet behind a stack of towels. It wasn't something someone would accidentally grab to steady themselves.

I smell bleach. BOLA!!!!

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 only found one. Where is another?” The walkie dashed on. “Try the big storage closet on the tenth floor.” Wesley replied. “Copy.” Bryan took the elevator to the tenth floor with the one container of bleach. The tenth floor wasn’t as bright and well-furnished as the second floor. Bryan assumed maybe the rooms became more dark and gloomy as the numbers went up. On this level was a black and red design with a black fluffy carpet that was soft to the touch. Like walking on a cloud. Bryan couldn’t help but touch the carpet. As he studied more of the carpets outlines, he could see traces of white on the carpet leading to the bed. The carpet had been sprayed with some cleaning material for sure,

he screamed, stepping back. I grabbed the bleach bottle and hit him on the side his head as hard as I could, causing him to step backward. I took advantage of his momentary unbalance as he rubbed his eyes, knowing that I only had a second. I unscrewed the cap from the bleach bottle and threw the contents at him, causing him to scream out in pain as bleach covered his face and hair. I grabbed the broom and, finding sudden strength, rammed my foot into the wooden handle, breaking it in half.

She looked defeated, like someone who had lost all hope. “We need to clean up the blood,” Tony told me, not even sparing Britney a glance. “I’ll be right back,” I replied, rushing upstairs to grab my clothes. Once I was dressed, I returned with a gallon of bleach, towels, a mop, and a bucket among other cleaning supplies.

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.

Hunter returned, holding a plastic mixing bowl in one hand and an application brush in the other. Inside the bowl was a frothy blue mixture that reeked of chemicals strong enough to make my eyes water. I recoiled slightly, nose wrinkling as I waved a hand in front of my face. “What the hell is that?” I asked, eyeing the suspicious concoction like it might come alive and eat me. He smirked, setting the bowl down on the vanity in front of me. “Powdered bleach. Gotta lighten your hair first so the pink sticks better. Otherwise, you’ll just end up with a muddy mess.”