Bloody Bathroom Novels & Stories

My boss, Kyle Brown, had just processed payroll when Sam Jefferson, the trainee I had been mentoring, tossed me his phone. He said, "Can you hold this for me while I use the bathroom?" I took it without thinking, then froze when I saw the screen. That was because a notification had just popped up: [This month's salary has been deposited. Total: $4,692.00.] I had been with this company for eight years, and I only made one thousand dollars a month. When I was hired, Kyle had told me that we were a startup. As long as I worked hard, I would make big money eventually. But over the years, Kyle had traded in one Mercedes after another while my salary kept shrinking. At present, my savings were less than four thousand dollars. I was close to not being able to afford the medical bills for my younger sister, Eva Rivers, who was very sick and bedridden. Meanwhile, the trainee I was mentoring made close to four thousand seven hundred dollars a month. I stayed quiet for a moment, then turned and asked the employee beside me how much he made. He stammered for a long time and would not answer. I understood it then. I picked up my phone and opened the recruitment message a competitor had sent me a few days earlier.

After returning home from a flight, I realize that my bottle of hair conditioner has run out in the bathroom. The thing is, my husband, Carlos Zappa, doesn't use hair conditioner at all. Seeing Carlos through the frosted glass, I decide to probe him for answers. "Did any guests stay over lately? Or have you started doing hair care?" Carlos flips through the documents, which are stamped with the Zappa family crest, impatiently at my questions. "Maybe a maid accidentally toppled the bottle over when she was cleaning the bathroom. Also, why are you annoying me with such minuscule matters?" When I put on the bathrobe, I feel a ticklish sensation coming from the collar. As soon as I look down, I notice a strand of dried yellow hair being entangled in the collar. The moment the steam dissipates, I see two pairs of intertwining handprints on the bathroom's glass door. I never thought that my home would grow this popular during my one-week trip away from home. I've been married to Carlos for three years, and yet this is my first time finding out that he's actually this wild in bed. So, I secretly text my father, the Don of the Carozza family. "Dad, Carlos has cheated on me. Does the bet we made three years ago still count?"

..Saw my hubby, but I was in another woman's body, and this time he wasn't my husband, his uncle was. ~ A voice suddenly cut through the silence. “Oh my goodness, you're finally awake Mrs. Blackwood!” Mrs Blackwood? That was.. I tried to speak, but my voice was a mere whisper. The nurse, a kind faced woman with a warm smile, helped me sit up and handed me a glass of water. As I sipped, fragments of memories began to resurface. A car crash.. screams? and Kenneth's face? But why couldn't I put two and two together? "Can you help me to the toilet?" I asked the nurse, my voice still weak. The nurse nodded and assisted me out of bed and my legs trembled beneath me as I walked, unaccustomed to bearing my weight after such a long time of bederiding Once in the bathroom, I stared at the mirror, expecting to see my own reflection but the face staring back at me was unfamiliar, younger and prettier. A jolt of fear immediately coursed through me. Who was this person? "Mrs. Victoria Blackwood?” I heard the nurse call out from behind and it dawned on me.. that name belonged to Alexander Blackwood's wife, my husband's uncle! A wave of panic washed over me. What was happening? Why was I in this body? I stumbled backward, the nurse catching me by my waist. "Steady Mrs. Blackwood. You're still recovering." But I wasn't recovering. I was lost. Trapped in a stranger's life.

I gave a stranger my panties on a plane. Not because I'm reckless. Not because I do things like this. But because Damien Cross looked at me like I was something worth destroying himself over, and I wanted to be devoured. Four hours at 30,000 feet. That's all it took for him to unravel every careful thread of the life I'd built. One look. One touch. One whispered promise that I was his. Then he vanished. No calls. No texts. Just a breaking news report showing him married to someone else, while I stood in a hotel bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test. Six years later, I've rebuilt myself. I'm a mother. A success. I've learned to survive without him. Until he walks into my photoshoot and recognizes the birthmark he once traced with his tongue. He says he never stopped looking for me. That his marriage was a cage he's finally escaped. That the twin boys I've been raising alone are his sons, and he wants his family back. But Damien Cross is a man who deals in empires and enemies. Someone close to him wants me gone. The threats start. The danger escalates. And I realize that loving Damien means walking into a war I never signed up for. He says he'll burn the world down to keep us safe. I'm terrified he means it. Some men are worth the fall but men are the wreckage. But Damien is both.

The ambulance that's carting a pregnant woman is currently racing down the highway. The pregnant woman's water has already broken, which means she's in a dire situation right now. As I clutch the steering wheel tightly, I make sure to press the gas pedal all the way to the maximum. But the hospital director, Corey Johnston, who has tagged along for the ride, suddenly issues an order. "Pull up at the rest stop ahead." I'm momentarily stunned by the order. But I soon protest anxiously, "The patient can't afford to wait at all! She and her baby might die anytime soon!" Corey merely waves a hand impatiently. "Who's the one calling the shots here—me or you? I've been dabbling in the medical world for 30 years! As if a driver like you know better than me!" Thinking that Corey needs to go to the bathroom urgently, I soon park at the rest stop. But I witness him strolling into a supermarket leisurely, only to come out with two huge bags of snacks a long time later. "I bought my daughter the local specialities. She loves snacks like these the most." As Corey speaks, he tosses the snacks and his phone onto the front passenger seat. His phone screen flickers to life due to an accidental contact, which reveals the wallpaper of the lock screen. It's a photo of Corey and his daughter. I frown at the sight as my breath hitches in my throat. Why do I have a feeling that Corey's daughter looks quite similar to the pregnant woman in the ambulance right now?

My mom died giving birth to me. They couldn't save her. My dad? He dumped me outside a prison and ran. Didn't even look back. It was five degrees. I was basically frozen. Barely breathing. Later, a guard said the whole max block lost it that night. One hundred eight inmates—death row, life sentences—went crazy. Slamming doors. Smashing windows. Yelling they wanted to keep me. In the end, they filed a letter. Not a breakout plan. A custody request. Somehow... it got approved. From that day on, I had 108 dads. But growing up, I found out the truth. They weren't criminals. On paper, they were dead—killed in the line of duty. In reality, they were still out there, serving. Eighteen years later, I got into one of the top high schools—with the highest score in the State of Ashford. On the fifth day, I beat the rich girl, Vivian Cobbley, by one point on a mock exam. Next thing I knew, my name was all over the bulletin board: [Riley Ray, daughter of murderers!] Vivian cornered me in the bathroom and shoved my head into a toilet. "Your dads are killers. That filth's in you too." She beat me so hard I dragged her down when we went over the second-floor railing. When I woke up, the Dean of Students was right in my face, finger in my face. "No surprise you're violent. It's in your blood. Call your criminal dads. Now." I shook. "Mr. Todd... you sure you want me to call them?"

God is always fair, but the world is never fair. Sometimes to defeat bad people, you must become a bad one yourself. His bloody hands rested on his knees which were spread apart. His head was bent and he looked perfect for the job. I just offered him my hand."I don't need your help. I can get up on my own."I raised an eyebrow at him and connected my hand with his. I attempted to pull him up. But, he didn't budge. I tried again, but no luck. This time, he growled. "Stop it and get lost. Leave me alone." He pointed his finger at me. I immediately caught hold of the finger and attempted to snap it, but he was quicker than me. He caught my hand which was holding his finger and twisted it so that my arm was strangling my own neck and I was pressed against his chest. We broke into a fight and in the end, we both were breathless and I was straddling him.

On the battlefield, the Lycans were ruthless, possessed uncontrollable strength and fury. Aram the Alpha of the Mountain’s Clan was a strong leader, but had his wife, destined by the Moon, murdered by a pack of werewolves. He hunted and killed most, but some escaped, when he returned he was only the shadow of what he once was. Later, the elders offered him an opportunity to regain his position in the clan. A female of the pack he was chasing had been found alone and disoriented in the forest. An enemy clan of werewolves was in her possession and would like to hand her over in search of a truce in the conflicts. Aram was supposed to marry her and fearing a rebellion, he accepted. In this way, he would subdue the she-wolf, proving the superiority of the Lycans. Lucine was a young woman who had already lived her private hell. When she finally managed to kill their captors them and escape, there she was, being captured and handing over to her clan’s greatest enemy. In the midst of a bloody dispute between Lycans and werewolves, could fate bind two souls in a love story and save their lives?

Warning: This story contains BDSM steamy scenes, mature language, and forbidden romance.Recommended for readers who enjoy emotionally intense and sexually charged love stories with depth. ……. My father is a powerful politician. His enemies killed my mother. Now they want me. To keep me alive, he hires the most expensive security company in the city. Three men show up at my door and drag me to a secret beach house. Dante, Nikolai and Enzo My bodyguards. My captors. I’m a medical student. I’m supposed to study for exams, not stitch up gunshot wounds and listen to bloody stories that make my thighs press together. I should hate them.I should be begging to go home, not aching for the men that might destroy me. Instead, I let them pin me to the wall, big bodies caging me in, heat rolling off their skin as rough hands toy with the buttons of my shirt. One of them leans down and growls in my ear, “We’ve wanted to do this since the first day we laid eyes on you kitten”

Every woman's wedding day was always the happiest day of her life, but not in my case. On my wedding day, my white dress was stained with blood and a dripping bloody knife on my right hand. And on the floor was my groom covered in a pool of his own blood. I was accused of murdering the man I spent four years loving. The world turned their backs against me in my time of need and I was sentenced to thirty years in prison for a crime that I didn't commit. One year passed by after Simon's murder and I've learnt to adapt to my new life confined to those strong iron bars. Until.. A knight in shining armour appeared out of the blue to bail me out, which was almost impossible but he did. And soon, I figured out that the man I had mourned for and also accused and sentenced for his murder was living his best life in another country with my best friend and their new born baby. A betrayal like that hurts but a blood thirty revenge was all I craved for.