Case Of Bleach Novels & Stories

Their contorted faces and the desperation in their family members' eyes painted a grim picture. "They're using our Leap Balm, Mr. Nichols," the assistant murmured softly. Observing the surroundings, Grey shuddered. Families clutched Leap Balm, applying it to the patients at regular intervals. The assistant expressed joy, "Our Leap Balm has taken over the entire hospital. Looks like we need to increase production, Mr. Nichols." Grey's expression darkened as he recalled the disturbing photos the young man had shown him. The patients before him, covered in bloodied scratch marks and deformities, all had one thing in common—they were using Leap Balm.

I demanded, fury in my voice. Jade smirked, holding up a bottle of bleach. The strong, stinging smell hit my nose, and panic shot through me. “Oh no!" I shrieked, feeling the bleach burn my scalp. My hands flew to my head, desperately trying to wipe it away, but the taps in every room I tried were dry. They’d planned this. Minutes and minutes passed as they each blocked my way into every room for about 10 minutes. “Help!” I screamed, running to my room’s bathroom and plunging my head under the faucet. My heart sank as I watched strands of my hair fall out, and my once-brown hair turn a fiery, unnatural red and brown.

His startled scream follows me to the table where I wipe the excess blood from my hands. There's a bottle of water and a decanter filled with scotch with glasses beside it. I fill up a glass with scotch and take a few sips before placing it back on the table. Stooping to get the bleach from the ground, I turn back to Kostas who is finally silent and trying to breathe through the waves of pain. Kneeling to my art on his leg, I open the bottle, the smell sharp enough to sting even through the air. I tilt the bottle watching the clear liquid as it trickles before becoming a steady stream moving through his wounds. Kostas jerks as the bleach eats into the cut tissue letting out gasps of pain.

She kept shaking her head in denial, suddenly looking a whole decade older. "That's impossible! I've been taking very good care of Casey!" Seeing that, I pretended that I was very hesitant as I revealed the truth to her. "Daisy, the doctor asked us yesterday if Casey might have come across any harmful chemicals at home, like washing detergent or the sort. "So, we looked into it and found out that it was Nancy's fault! She mixed up the washing detergents while doing the laundry. That's how Casey's clothes became loaded with the deadly benzene!"

He looks at David, grunts, and tosses him the last heel of sourdough, preserved and re-preserved so many times that it bounces when it lands on the counter. Darrel appears next, two flights down, carrying with him the bright lemony stench of disinfectant: David can tell already that he’s poured half the bottle on his hair for the inaugural bleach. “If I obliterate the pigment, maybe the wolf will just come out white and skittish and leave everyone alone,” he says, which is funny because Darrel’s the only one of the three who’d enjoy the attention.

"I’ll make sure you never forget." I grabbed the kitchen shears I’d swiped from the drawer. I hacked at the dark hair, watching the long, silky strands fall into the sink like dead things. Then, I grabbed the box of "Golden Honey" bleach I’d seen hidden in the back of the linen closet—the stuff Mom said we were too young for. I didn't care about being young. I didn't care about being pretty. I mixed the chemicals, the smell burning the back of my throat. I slathered it onto my head, my hands shaking with a fury that felt like fire.

~~ Dahlia ~~ The second I slammed my hotel room door shut, I bolted straight for the bathroom like a woman possessed. Not for the toilet, not for the shower… no. For the sink. I snatched my toothbrush like it was a weapon, slapped toothpaste on it like I was squeezing venom from a snake, and shoved it in my mouth. Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. “Oh my God, oh my GOD,” I garbled around foamy bubbles, staring at my own reflection like I was in a horror movie. “I’ve been assaulted. My lips have been… contaminated. I need bleach.“

She scooped the basket of hard bleach off Effie hands. "You don't need so many cleaning agents for one toilet." "Here," She handed them three different brands of antiseptic and bleach. "This should be enough." *** Credits to G****e on hotel staffing info.

Why would he? 'And why am I so desperate for his cock?' she wondered. 'I'm acting like a bitch in heat.' After smothering everything in bleach, Lexi scrubbed and rinsed them off with water and a cloth. It took a decent amount of time, she got bleach on her favourite dress, and there was still limescale and dots of black mould at the end of her efforts.

I dive to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Even that part of my morning routine is far from positive. As I reach the sink, I wonder for a second why our anti bac wipes – the ones that I used to clean the toilet yesterday – are sitting where I expected my make up remover wipes to be. I realise why, when I gaze into the mirror and see my face; I look like I’ve undergone a skin graft on a burns unit. Oh Christ. Only I, would encourage my best friend to nuzzle his face into my boobs and remove my make up with household bleach in a single bloody evening. How do I manage it?