Case Of Bleach Novels & Stories

(She grabs the glass again with shaky hands and it slips & falls from her hand) Blair: Oh no, What have I done? (Cecilia enters the kitchen) Cecilia: What's wrong? I heard the sound of glass shattering. Blair: It was an accident, I was feeling weak and tired and I wanted juice at that time and... Cecilia: IIt'sok, It's OK... Just go to sleep, I'll clean it up Blair: OK thanks (Blair leaves the kitchen) Cecilia: I need some cold drink too (she goes to the fridge and opens it, She sees the grapefruit juice box half covered)

As the blood drops dripped onto it and were absorbed by the case, the mist became darker and darker until they couldn't see anything. The ground was shaking a bit as they heard something was cracked..The wooden case was unlocked and it became fuming. Claudia inhaled and took the rolled old script from inside the case. Sonya and Clayton were standing behind her as they saw their bleeding wounds had stopped gushing the blood.

I find myself once again sitting in the familiar white leather recliner chair. This place was terrible. The smell of bleach always burnt my nose, it was so sterile. Almost as if they were trying to hide the blood shed they had caused. It freighted me, what did they do in here that required the place to be cleaned so thoroughly, the smell of bleach was consuming. I could only imagine the un-imaginable things they were doing to some of the people here on their visits. I had learnt very early on the only way to survive here is to stay out of trouble and lie.

⁠ I⁠ tied a‍ rag around‍ my face like a mask. I po​ured b‍l⁠each on t⁠he floor.⁠ I​ poured bleach‌ on the walls. The s​mell was overp‍ower⁠ing, ch‍emica‍l and sha‍rp‌.​ It burned my‌ e⁠yes, but I lov‍e‍d‌ it. It smelle‌d⁠ like purity. ‍I scrubbed the c‍oncrete⁠ on my h‍ands an⁠d‌ knee​s.⁠ I scrubbed the toilet‌. I s⁠crubbed the s‍ink.

He let out a weak smile knowing he now had a lead and he stood up and left his office. The murder of Aaron George was still a fresh topic on everyone's lips when the mysterious killer struck again,this time it was a top elite businessman and the owner of a pharmaceutical company called Ramson pharmaceuticals. Mr Ramson was found dead in a park with similar stab wounds with that of the former victim. Awhite, partially bloody rose was placed on his chest, his dull eyes widely open, he was dressed in a cooperate wear with a white long-sleeved shirt. Visitors who came to the park found him the next morning and alerted the police.

Was life even worth living? Tears rolled down my cheeks as I reflected on the past few weeks. "I can't do this anymore!" My voice bounced off the walls of the bathroom. After looking around for a moment, I reached out to the small shelf. I pulled off the large bottle of bleach on the bottom. I uncapped it. After looking at the clear liquid for a brief moment, I brought the bottle to my lips and drew my head back.

But the lemon smell is overpowered by the horrible scent permeating the room. “What’s that awful smell?” I say, waving my hand in front of my nose. “It sucks to have a sensitive wolf nose right about now,” Callan says. “This is bleach. It’s the only thing I could think of to get the bloodstains off the floor.” “Is Ethan okay?” I ask, sitting my backside on one of the chairs. “Other than a bad hangover, he’ll be fine by tomorrow.” Callan grabs a pink-stained towel and wipes the water and bleach from the floor.

Natalia gave him the 'go on look. "We have a room almost emptied of anything, could it have been a spell gone bad? We have half the house vacant, could it be, it was always like that? We have the master bedroom, untouched, and this room is here. This room doesn't look well used, it strikes me as barely living in. The bleach is on the top step. I'm thinking it was a trap or trick set up and gone bad. As I said, these people weren't dumb, and if it had been biological, then they knew it would be found even with bleach. I'm starting to wonder if it is bleach at all." Jimmy knew of other substances that might discolor the carpet. "Now you are thinking like a cop. I agree, this place is staged. B

The smell of bleach stings my nose as I pour it onto the sponge, the liquid sloshing over. I start with the floor, dropping to my knees beside the bloodstain. The sponge soaks up the red, turning it a sickly pink as I scrub, my arms moving in jerky motions. My head throbs with every movement, but I push through, my jaw clenched. The blood smears at first, stubborn and slick, but I keep at it, pouring more bleach, scrubbing until the tiles shines. I move to the table next, wiping down the edge where the blackmailer’s hand had rested, then the chairs, my hands shaking so badly I nearly drop the sponge. Every creak of the building, every distant sound of a car horn, makes me flinch, my eyes dar

For a moment, I was back there in a life I didn’t want to remember, surrounded by faces I’d long tried to forget. I tore my gaze away, heart pounding a little faster. I couldn’t let it show. Not even a hint of that past could resurface. Not here. Not now. I squared my shoulders and nodded at my reflection. “Time to bleach you out of existence.” The smell of bleach filled the tiny bathroom, making my nose wrinkle in disgust. I felt like I was withering away. It was pungent, seeping into every corner, mixing with the dampness of old tiles and mildew. I worked quickly, fingers gloved and precise, painting over every traitorous strand until I was satisfied. I watched as the brown vanished, repla