How Do I Get Bleach Smell Off My Hands Novels & Stories

He screws his nose up before saying, “It smell likes someone shat in here.” I smirk, “You think? I can't smell anything.” I took a step toward him. Do I rub my hand in his face? Nah, better not. I pour fabric softener into my hands, rubbing them together and rinsing them under the faucet. He frowns and asks, “What are you doing?” I hold the fabric softener up and say, “Little tip Darius, fabric softener, gets the smell of baby shat off your hands.”

The scent of lavender and peaches filled the air, enveloping me in a fragrant embrace. I worked quickly but thoroughly, massaging the lather into my skin, feeling the grime and stress of the day wash away. I took care to cleanse every part of my body, the rhythmic motions of my hands both methodical and soothing. The water pounded gently against my back, easing the tension that had settled in my muscles.

But it wasn’t enough. I reached up to the cabinet and grabbed the lavender soap, rubbing it between my palms until it foamed. The smell was sharp, clean. I closed my eyes and massaged it into my face, feeling the sting of the tiny cuts and filth from the chaos downstairs. The lather slid down my neck, and with my eyes still closed, I groped for the tap again. The water gushed out, and I scooped it up, splashing my face over and over until I could finally breathe again.

The suds slid down my back, and I quickly tilted my head under the water to rinse it all away. Next came the body wash. The fresh, citrusy fragrance of oranges filled the steamy bathroom as I lathered the gel across my arms and legs. My hands moved swiftly, the soapy bubbles disappearing under the water’s steady flow. I rinsed off, making sure no trace of soap remained, and twisted the knob to shut off the shower.

He raised his hands on the air in surrender. “I think they are enough.” He showed me his palm and walked away. I returned the shears and put a pack of detergent and a bottle of bleach inside the empty bucket and brought them back to the kitchen. I filled the bucket with water before pouring some detergent and bleach in. I mixed them and started cleaning the awful mess Xyrus and Suzy made. I closed the faucet and the next thing I heard were moans and groans from the toilet. I shivered and brought out my phone and played some rock music.

I smiled as I quickly poured some in my hand after pushing my sleeves up and began washing my arms and hands with her soap. Once I was done I smelled my hands and smiled as I smelled her on my skin now. I then sniffed my sleeve and continued going back and forth between my hand and sleeve as I took turns smelling both of them. After a few moments I realized how silly I might look and felt myself blush. Thankfully no one was in the bathroom with me. After making sure I put everything away, I turned back to the mirror to make sure I looked okay before walking out of the bathroom.

He had me by my hand, holding it tight as he pulled me up onto my feet. "I'm not leaving until tomorrow morning. Besides, I drove here." "Then, I guess I'm staying here with you." He smiled, as if it would be something to make me happy. I stared. I opened the door to the house, smelling the light stench of bleach. This home had a unique smell to it. It wasn't a smell that I could put a name to, but it smelled like my home. Now, it was just bleach. It masked the smell I was used to. It was there to clean the blood stains and the smell of death, if there was any.

The blood is drying on my hands, crusting along my knuckles, smeared along my arms and shirt. I go straight to the bathroom, and the door clicks shut behind me as I turn the water on, letting it run hot before shoving my hands under the stream. The water turns pink, swirling down the drain as I scrub the blood away. It takes longer than it should. Some of it is under my nails, clinging to my skin like it doesn’t want to leave. Once my hands are clean, I strip off my shirt and grab a washcloth, wiping down the rest of me. There’s a cut along my arm I don’t remember getting, but I don’t bother with it. It doesn’t matter.

I asked, falling back onto my legs. “I didn’t put anything in it. I made it black, just the way you like it, same as always.” “It didn’t smell right,” I replied. “Hmm, I’ll check the expiration date.” He put his hand out and helped me up. I sniffed. “Ugh, this washroom smells awful. I need to clean it.” “Didn’t you just clean it the other day?” he asked, looking at me funny. “It definitely needs to be cleaned. I’m about to throw up again from how strong it smells.” I wrinkled my nose, pulling open the washroom cabinet door to get some bleach.

I moved my hand down to take ahold of her hand, which she immediately latched onto it. I wasn’t the only one that noticed that I was actually comforting her and taking away the pain. Now that she was calmer, I looked around and saw a bottle of bubble bath on the ledge of the tub. Her scent was still strong, but maybe adding some scented soap or something may help. Reaching for the bottle, with one hand I removed the cap and started pouring the liquid in. Instead of stopping with just a little, I went ahead and poured the entire contents in. The smell of her heat started to fade a little, but it was still very much noticeable. I just hoped it would be enough to help the rest of the pack.