What Happens If You Swallow Bleach Novels & Stories

Looking outside and beyond the horizon, I swipe my tongue across my lips to wet them, hoisting myself to my feet. Hands on my waist, I once over the entirety of my space, satisfied and proud, telling from the smile playing on my lips. I nod slowly, turning on my heels to head for the kitchen. It’s my next target. As soon as I step into my living room, a strong stench of bleach attacks my senses. Not unpleasant but too strong for my liking. I remind myself to be careful with the amount I use next time. Pinching my nose to reduce its potency, i dash across the living room and into my kitchen. A stack of dishes piled into the sink awaits me. I groan out loud, whining about having to actually do

I opened my mouth and squeezed the black rubber bulb on the top of the dropper, so a single bead of the thick liquid fell directly onto my tongue. I swallowed the tiny drop, and the foul, bitter taste burned the back of my throat with a horrible chemical flavor. I dropped the glass vial onto the marble counter with a loud clatter, and I grabbed the edge of the sink while I waited for something to happen. I did not have to wait very long, because the terrifying reaction hit my system within a matter of seconds. My vision blurred almost instantly in the bright bathroom, and the sharp edges of the vanity mirror melted into a fuzzy, distorted mess.

Just how I liked it. By the time I finished, my scalp burned slightly, a prickling reminder of the lengths I was willing to go. I washed my hands, the cold water soothing against my skin. As I rinsed off the bleach, droplets splattered against the porcelain sink, swirling down the drain. Then a honk startled me. Short. Loud. Annoying.

I could not be permanently tied to the monster who had ripped my life apart. I walked straight into the bathroom. I unscrewed the white cap. My hands shook violently as I poured two generic white pills into my palm. I turned on the sink, filled a glass with cold water, and threw the pills to the back of my raw throat. I swallowed hard, ignoring the sharp, burning pain in my windpipe. I hid the bottle deep inside my toiletry bag, burying it under a pile of heavy face creams. I stared at my pale reflection in the mirror. I had absolutely no idea that I had just swallowed poison. All I felt was a tiny, desperate surge of victory.

"This is a poison. If anyone keeps drinking this for, let's say… eight months to one and a half years, depending on when they started, and depending on the dose given—and the person's immune system—if luck isn't on their side, they won't even remember how to breathe. The person's heart will just... stop. And it will look like a natural brain failure." I gripped the paper. I looked at the list of chemicals. The names were long and complex, but the result was simple. "Wolf’s Bane extract—does it bleach?" I asked. "Nope. It doesn't. Not alone. "But with this…" she pointed at a text on the paper, "…and this mixed together, it bleaches. Or gives the bleach effect. Why do you ask?" "Nothing," I sa

Why in the goddess name would Rhena want to take me out? I stumbled into the bathroom, and I could feel my limbs slowly giving out. I leaned at the edge of the sink. There was no time to think, I dipped my finger into my mouth and reached for my uvula. I didn’t get my hand halfway through my mouth before I let out a gag, so violent that all my dinner came pouring out of my mouth instantly. I turned the tap on, quickly rinsing my mouth. As I watched the vomit spiral down the drain, I realized. It was too late, there were no pills in my vomit. It has dissolved into my system.

Every second that ticks by is another chance for someone to walk in, to see this nightmare. I stumble toward the kitchen, my legs unsteady, the pain in my head a constant drumbeat. The linoleum is cold under my bare feet, and I brace myself against the counter, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I need to clean this up little by little before they arrive, at least enough to buy time until he and his crew arrive. I yank open the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a bottle of bleach, a sponge, and a pair of rubber gloves. My hands tremble as I slip the gloves on, the rubber snapping against my wrists. The smell of bleach stings my nose as I pour it onto the sponge, the liquid sloshing ov

I tipped it between his lips. “Swallow it,” I whispered. “Come on, swallow the damn thing.” His throat suddenly bobbed. I exhaled, tension sliding off my shoulders. But relief didn’t last. Jace’s eyes flew open, wild and red. He arched violently, a raw scream tearing from his lungs. “What the....Jace!” I grabbed his shoulders, trying to hold him down. His body convulsed. Then he began vomiting a thick, chalky white substance. It spewed from his mouth, coating his chin, the pillow, the sheets. It steamed, almost sizzled, like acid.

Then washed my hair again and ran some conditioner through it. Then I brushed my teeth. I scrubbed my tongue so hard I gagged myself, but it was necessary. I doubled over and spat out a small rush of liquid, aiming it right into the shower drain. It was blackish green. Bile mixed with a little vampire blood I’d accidentally swallowed. At last, I could no longer taste the putrid, rotten flavor of it on my tongue. I added more toothpaste and scrubbed my teeth and gums once again for good measure, though.

It’s thick, metallic and then I remember where we are. It clings to the air like a suffocating fog, sinking into my nostrils and coating the back of my throat. I gag on it as bile rises into the back of my mouth. Then I smell bleach mixed in. The tang burns my nose, and for a split second, I can’t tell if the sting in my eyes is from the fumes or the growing panic in my chest. We slept in this. I cleaned the floor last night, scrubbed this spot until my hands were raw, but now the mix of blood and bleach is even worse. It’s foul and chemical, like something rotting beneath sterile lies.