Unmasked Bleach Novels & Stories

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

Lex perused the masquerade, feeling somewhat elated by the fact that he was indistinguishable. He adjusted his white and gold mask that covered his entire forehead but extended only to half of his face. The overall colour was white with an acrylic effect. The gold highlighted the eyelids and accentuated the mask.

The process wouldn’t be explained further. Anyway, Beatrice was stunned. Her face flushed red as her heart was beating wildly. She saw Alex take his mask off. Although the light was very dim and she didn’t see the front of his face after turning around, she was sure that his face didn’t have any traces of disfigurement. In fact, his skin was very smooth. He even looked very handsome with his angular face. “Liar! “You're not disfigured at all!” When she wanted to take a closer look, Alex had already finished sucking out the venom and put on his mask again.

Christopher I stare at myself in the mirror of the downstairs bathroom. I can see the paleness on my face, my eyes bloodshot and hollow, like I haven’t slept in days. Sweat clings to my forehead even though the room feels cold. My hands tremble as I pull on the yellow gloves, the snap echoing in the tiled silence. On the counter beside me are everything Martin told me to get—bleach, water, and a sponge. I grip the edge of the sink, trying to steady myself. This was supposed to be simple, I remind myself.

I muttered, leaning closer so he could hear me over the buzz of the crowd, “Reagan doesn’t even know the names of half these people.” He smirked, his gaze sweeping the room. “Everyone’s wearing a mask.” “It’s a masquerade party, I think.” I spotted a nearby table stacked with ornate masks, clearly intended for anyone who needed one. I grabbed two and turned to Blaze, holding one out to him. “Here. Let’s blend in.” I slipped my mask on—a delicate, silver piece adorned with tiny crystals—and gestured for Blaze to do the same. He took his time, studying his black and gold mask like it was some kind of alien artifact before finally putting it on.

I watched it closely. For a second, nothing happened. I waited. Then, the liquid began to soak into the fibers. Right before my eyes, the deep black of my shirt began to change. It didn't just get wet. It started to fade. The black turned to a sickly, burnt orange. And then, gradually but fast, it turned to a pale, ghostly white. This was the same. The exact tea that had poured on me that day. The bleaching tea. What is inside this?

“Pause it.” The masked model stepped out like she owned the night. Graceful. Elegant. Moving with a confidence that burned me alive. Her face hidden by that damn silver mask. Her mask. The thing that had made her untouchable, untouchably adored. “Zoom in.” He hesitated. “It’s already blurry, ” “Do it,” I snapped, voice dripping venom. He did. The image worsened, but then something caught my eye—metal flashing under her sleeve.

That I would come to the kitchen doorway and stand there again, uncertain how far in I was allowed to step. And that I would step in anyway. I reached over and turned off the lamp. The room went dark except for the soft blue light coming through the window, the reflected glow of all that white outside. I closed my eyes and let the sound of the storm carry me, gradually and then completely, somewhere past the reach of all my careful plans.

Misha was stuck getting her hand out in the washing machine. She bleached her hair in midnight green color, although it might fade for a lighter color over time, she's satisfied with what it turns out like how she's satisfied how everything turned out in her life. Because she'll paint it on a different color before it fades. She knew Blanche or Cleo Martinez as she was, ever since she was little, she always looked up at her. Although they may be the same age, Misha was a lot smaller compared to all the agents they trained in the organization.

His eagle like eyes gawked at her as if she was his prey. "I am done." Lisa ate to her desire and stretched her arms feeling refreshed. She then left the bed and headed to bathroom. After a long a nice bath, Lisa wore Mustard Crepe Plain Balloon Ruffled Dress, which complimented her pale skin. She stepped out of walk in closet and frowned. Brad was sitting on couch with business magazine in his hand- reading it with leisure. His tilted face under the bright sunlight was a beautiful sight for Lisa. He had a different charisma.