Las Noches Bleach Novels & Stories

NIGHT SHIFT ~CHELSEA~ The smell of bleach burns my nostrils as I scrub at a stubborn black mark on Crawford Elite's spotless white tile floor. Some rich kid's designer shoe scuff, probably. I press harder, the muscles in my arm aching from three hours of similar work already tonight. "Come on," I mutter, watching the mark slowly fade under my attack. Small victories. At 1:13 AM, the huge school hallway stretches empty in both directions. My rubber gloves squeak against the wet tile, the sound echoing off trophy cases filled with golden evidence of Crawford Elite's greatness.

The black liquid oozes relentlessly from her nostrils as I fix the tissues beneath her nostrils. The pristine white tissue gets soaked in minutes and before we know it, two rolls of tissue pack soaked with black liquid lay wasted on the floor. Nox's face has turned pale, panic glinting in her eyes. with the black liquid showing no intent of stopping. My heart races wildly like a stallion as I motion to Julianne who paces the room in total panic to take over while I make a quick call to Dimitri. He answers in one ring. The words sound almost incoherent as they spill out of my mouth. "Nox. She is..she is... bleeding a black substance"

was scre​a​ming at me to​ l​eav‍e the r⁠oom, to strip off my own rui‌n‌e​d suit⁠,‍ to sc‍rub myself with bleach until I burned. But I‍ couldn‍'t le‍ave he‍r. "No," I said qu‌ietly. I wal⁠ked into‌ the en-suite bathroom. I turned on the show‌er. I adjus​ted the temp⁠erature until st‌eam filled the ro‍om.⁠ I wal‌ke‌d back t⁠o h⁠er. "I will help you." Chloe’s‍ ey​es widene​d. "Lore⁠nzo... you don't ha‌ve to. I know you hate th⁠is. I know you h‍ate germs."

"Blue ." " Cleo, I'm serious." ©#KCMmuoe

He had never met anyone who had such a perfect chest to pierce his rapier with, but by the Cosmos, did he try his damn best to remind himself that it was probably some twelve year old kid high on testosterone. "Why is it still midnight? I swear we've been in this game for a while." V pondered not so rhetorically, huffing as he placed his head against his palms. ".. Permanent night," Erin mumbled. "I don't have bat ears. Speak up," V spoke, laced with petulance. "If you did the bare minimum of reading the menu before signing up, you'd know they kept the battle on night mode to advertise their radioluminescent weapon range and attract sponsors," Erin muttered, just above a whisper.

Damn her. With each step, her brunette waves gave a slight bounce, her blue eyes sparkling. She was trying to cheer me up, and she had me at “milkshake.” I took a long pull, which was how long it took to get the ultra-thick shake up the straw. When the cold hit my tongue, it burst into multiple layers of chocolate heaven and I let out a moan, my body sagging. “Told you.” Hannah looked back to my mom. “What are you two doing here?” I asked before attempting to pull more up the straw.

"Enzo, you're bleeding!" _____

Azalea's POV. I am Bloody Mary. Tonight, oh yes. And I’m going to surprise my beloved son in his room, which has been transformed into a small maze of cloth and spooky decorations. My body ached after playing the piano for two straight hours at the wedding, but when it came to entertaining my son, I always found energy. “Get ready,” Julian said, and I quickly hid inside a wardrobe with a mirror. “Alvin’s still in the hall, but he’s about to head to his room.”

The freshly scent of bleach, though faint, is strong enough to churn my stomach. It's the kind of clean that tries too hard... the kind that hides blood. We pass closed doors, the thick and silent things that give nothing away. There are no sounds, no voices or idea of what lies behind them. My eyes flick up to the cameras. There are several nestled in every corner like watching insects in the ceiling. Cold, patient and unblinking.

VOSS ESTATE Rain had carved the night into trembling streaks, each one gliding down the glass like it wanted in. The thunder finally rolled past, leaving behind a quiet thick enough to hear the house breathe. Kaylee stood there, pale from the glow of the screen, her fingers tight around the laptop like it was the only thing anchoring her to the room. Amara’s voice sliced through the dark again — low, steady, and edged with a kind of control that only existed when something inside her was burning.