Floor Wax White

In an empty white space a black haired boy with pentagrams in his eyes is laying in the floor looking at what looks like galaxy swirls. he swipes one of his hands and a swirl disappeared. " How boring " it was this very statement that lead to his journey in search of his memories

When I got off the plane, a notification popped up on my phone. It was an announcement of my wife's wedding to her lover on social media. I rushed to the company, but I was stopped by the HR director at the elevator. "You are fired. Our company doesn't need freeloaders like you." I was utterly confused. Wasn't this my own company? "Is this a direct order from Claire Luna?" I inquired. "Haha, you are just a nobody in the company. Why would our president Ms. Luna bother with you?" "This is Mr. White's order!" I laughed in disbelief. Since when did Evan White speak for my wife? "Where are they?" I asked the HR director. "They are finally having their wedding on the top floor of the banquet hall. You need to leave now as the top floor is only accessible to the executives." Upon hearing that, I pushed the HR director away. I immediately pulled out my identification card and tapped it on the access scanner. "Beep. Highest authorization confirmed. Welcome back."

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.

On the day we finalized our college applications, I chose Cromwell University. The moment my brother saw it, his expression turned icy. Before I even understood what was happening, everything went black. When I woke up, I was trapped inside a glass box. All because our cousin Wendy had failed to get into Cromwell. To make it up to her, he ordered his men to carry me to an underground auction, putting me on display for a hundred strangers to gawk at for entertainment. I pounded on the glass, crying and begging for someone, anyone, to let me out. No one came. Men gathered around, their gazes shameless and invasive, murmuring to each other as if I were an object, something to be assessed and priced. My brother stood among them, watching. Then he smiled. "You brought this on yourself," he said lightly. "You had everything, our parents' support and my protection, and still you went after Wendy. You even had someone threaten her. "Because of you, she missed her exams. Because of you, she lost Cromwell." He took a step closer, his voice turning colder. "Your life's been too easy. It's time you learned what it feels like to be humiliated." I sank to the floor of the glass box, my body trembling, my mind going blank. While I was being reduced to nothing, he booked an entire resort in Wendy's honor, hosting a grand celebration for her acceptance to Halvard University. Later, when our parents called and asked him to bring me along, his assistant interrupted with a message. "Mr. Lawson… the police have confirmed Miss Kelly's death."

THIS BOOK CONTAINS RAW, STEAMY, AND EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. IF YOU'RE NOT 18+, PLEASE ABSTAIN. When Shemika accidentally kills her brother‑in‑law during a four‑hour, drug‑laced BDSM session on the night of her sister’s funeral, she flees and was hit by a car. The driver turns out to be the smooth‑talking ex‑convict everybody calls Bishop, manager of the ultra‑exclusive nightclub known as Wet Nights. He carries her to the club’s secret hospital beneath the dance floor for her to recover.  To dodge arrest, Shemika begs for a job at the club. After a shocking demonstration of wax play, orgasm denial, and bondage, she signs a blood‑ink contract and becomes property of Wet Nights. She was taken to the performers’ 14‑storey dorm, known as the Crimson House where all the performers (employees) at Wet Nights stays. The house is managed by the predatory house‑manager known as Sinner—he fucks every newbie in the house as part of their onboarding session. On her first night, Shemika is bullied to parade naked through all fourteen floors, but the funny bisexual icon Jax steps in and helps her. Soon Shemika teams up with two dancers namely; Synn, the ice‑cold top performer, and Lexi, whose real purpose is finding her sister who vanished while working at the club. But some doors in Wet Nights stay locked for a reason…

My mom had a sudden heart attack, and the medical bills were piling up faster than I could breathe. I was desperate, so I turned to my rich boyfriend, hoping he could help, or at least offer some kind of solution. But instead of the support I expected, he unleashed a tirade that hit harder than anything I'd ever heard. "So this is why you're with me? Just for my money? You're no different from those other women throwing themselves at me. You're all the same—pathetic and shameless!" Before I could even react, he shoved me out the door. Later, when he finally understood the full story, he handed me a bank card, no questions asked. "Candice," he said quietly, his tone almost remorseful. "The password is your birthday." I didn't say a word. I just let the card drop onto the floor and walked away without looking back.

The afternoon my critical condition notice was issued, Silas Stenson popped a bottle of champagne in the lab. On social media, a photo showed him and Wynter Keller standing side by side in the golden sunset, their white coats bathed in light. The caption read only one line—'Ten years—it finally worked.' Everyone said he was devoted, that he'd spent ten sleepless years trying to save me. When the nurse, her eyes red, showed it to me on her phone, I was staring at the wavering lines on the monitor. No one knew that the drug had already been perfected a year ago. And I was the only candidate who wasn't allowed to receive it.

The white rose lay on the floor dripping with blood. A small,shiny blade lay beside it. A beautiful object in such a terrible and painful condition. The blood stain on it did not hide it's immaculate and beautiful nature. She puffed smoke in the air and took a sip of the liquor beside her,as she glared at the bleeding rose with sad and anguish filled eyes,it told a lot about her and her agony. She was as beautiful as the rose in front of her. She took out an envelope containing different photos of different people in it,she stared at the image with a mixture of rage and disgust. “Revenge!!!“ She yelled as she fell to the ground crying” “I'll not sleep,I'll not rest until you all are dead!!”

"You whore!" A masculine voice. "You philanderer!" A feminine voice. "I'll kill you in this house!" He bellowed as he charged straight to the woman and started beating her up. The little boy stood at the door and watched his parents go about their daily routine, tears spilled from his eyes. He stood in the shadows, just watching and crying. If he speaks out loud, they'll remember him and his father will beat him also. No one remembers him. Not unless they want to beat him too. Then he saw the blow, heard the awful sound. The blow that made a difference. The blow that made that day stand out from every other day. His mom stopped screaming, she laid there on the floor, staring into nothingness. Dead. "Gia." His dad paused mid-beating. No answer. "Gianna!" He patted her white arms turned red from being beaten. Terror filled the little boy's system, a sound escaped his mouth, drawing the man's attention. "Oops. I've forgotten about you." He said to the little boy. "Mom's dead..." The little boy said in a tiny voice. The man looked down at the lifeless white woman, "Seems like it." He looked at the boy with an eye filled with menace. "You'll pretend you didn't see a thing. You'll......" The siren rang outside. The police had arrived. A neighbour had alerted them when he heard the noise. He watched as the policemen pointed their guns at his father. He watched as they took his father away. He remained hidden, his blue eyes returning to the woman who laid on the floor, with eyes as blue as his. She was staring right at him. Finally, she sees him. Only in death, did she really see him. Something died in that little boy that day. Replaced with bitterness.

How did this even happen? The girl whom she thought of as her best friend, the girl with whom she's sharing her room, is actually a guy? Hazel stood there with her feet rooted to the white marble floor, not even bothering to fake that utterly shook expression of hers by watching the handsome man dressed in woman's clothes. "She's a guy!?" Finally Hazel let it out straighning her mind. Tristan Sanchez is an undercover cop who by bad luck had to pretend as a sexy paino teacher According to his Cheif's orders. What would happen if the most dedicated and cold officer of the department falls in love with the clumsiest and cheerful girl ever. Can he complete his mission to find the culprit he's looking for? Or he will get distracted by the feeling called love.