Words Using Bleach Novels & Stories

"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

I agree with him, our packhouse, while small, is immaculate, yet the cleaning products' smell was subtle. We follow Walter towards the south of the building and through a set of double doors that reveal a long corridor with rooms down either side. A floor to ceiling window at the end of the corridor is bathing the area with sunlight. The smell of lemon bleach is even stronger here, with a subtle scent of drainage. Clearly, maintenance is needed, and the bleach is just covering the problem.

I wrinkled my nose, pulling open the washroom cabinet door to get some bleach. Alex sniffed loudly and said, “It doesn’t smell any different than usual. Are you sure you’re not just smelling things?” “No, it’s awful!” I replied. “Cleaning so early in the morning?” Alex’s mom was at the door of our washroom, peeking in as I was pouring bleach into the toilet bowl and getting the cleaning brush out. “Mom, what are you doing in here?” Alex asked. “The door was open. Anyway, it’s not like I haven’t already seen what you two get up to.”

Blood smears across the carpet, dark streaks that'll never come out. Good thing this place sees worse things than murder. The bathtub is barely big enough, but I manage to fold him inside. His head lolls at an unnatural angle. I turn away, focusing on the next step. Bleach. Lots of it. The motel's supply closet is a joke—just cleaning rags and half-empty bottles. But there's enough bleach to burn away DNA. I pour it over everything: the carpet, the walls, the doorknobs. The chemical smell makes my eyes water.

Lance asked, following me down to the hospital as we spoke. “It’s not something that you will understand if I explain with words,” I said nervously. The image of his drawer flashed in my head again and my smile got brighter. “Try me,” he insisted. “Okay, he poured bleach on his mate’s clothes. Trying to fix his mess and entire problem he went online to look for a solution and he saw where they asked him to use soda. Then he poured soda all over his drawer,” I said it all in one breath. Lance took a second to comprehend but then he said, “What?!”

"What is that smell?" Usually, if someone stood in front of your bathroom and asked you about a certain smell, it would be best if you shoo that person away. However, that wasn't applicable to this moment now. Kat knew that the stench wasn't from something natural, albeit embarrassing. What she didn't know was how to explain it in such a way that wouldn't come across as suspicious. "Er, it's bleach," she said at last. "I've been . . . mega-cleaning the bathroom."

She looked defeated, like someone who had lost all hope. “We need to clean up the blood,” Tony told me, not even sparing Britney a glance. “I’ll be right back,” I replied, rushing upstairs to grab my clothes. Once I was dressed, I returned with a gallon of bleach, towels, a mop, and a bucket among other cleaning supplies.