Hello, my name is Justin Mitchell, some people call me the neat freak. Ever since I can remember, I always used bleach on everything. If you have a problem bleach can fix it. if you get a stain on your shirt, if you have some weird spot on your bed, or if you hate your life, bleach can fix it. When I was four years old my mom was cleaning the floors, all I can remember was that smell. So sweet and it just smelled clean. One evening I asked her if I could give her a hand, ever since that day I've been hooked. I poured bleach on everything, on my car, my cat, even on my head, I love bleach.
One warm October morning, my great friend Lisa asked me to help her clean up her house (Lisa was a friend of mine ever since middle school) so of course I said yes. Lisa was the most beautiful person I've ever met, she had the cutest smile and long blond hair that any guy could get tangled in; but Lisa was like an energy drink, a good pick me up after five hours, but she'd kill you in large doses. She was that kind of girl you'd kill for, or even die for. Lisa was my kind of girl, and I was her kind of guy; we just didn't know it yet.
I was cleaning, I cleaned her floors, her light bulbs, even her ceiling. As I moved on to her makeup stand, I noticed all this brown powder, it was like dirt, but dirt that had gone threw a flour grinder, or some sort of contraption to thin it. Lisa walked up to me with a smile on her face, and said," hey, you missed a spot!" I looked at her, and there it was, the dirt. I threw my bleach straight on her face and started rubbing, I just needed to get that dirt off, I scrubbed and scrubbed, till the dirt was gone.
Now her skin was this weird, pink white color. She let out a scream, a scream louder than anything I've ever heard before. Was she screaming this entire time, Did it hurt her? I've poured bleach on myself plenty of times, and I was never harmed by it. Lisa got up and started yelling," WHAT THE FUCK JASON!? IT BURNS SO FUCKING BAD! CALL 911!" All I could think of is how sorry I was, but my body no longer cared about my thoughts, I ran for the phone faster than a cheetah chasing its prey. I flipped the phone open, and dialed 911. My hands were sweating, my body was shaking, and my head was acing. All I remember is darkness, I must have gone into shock during the panic, but wait, I don't remember hitting call.
Lisa awoke me, several hours or maybe even days later. Her face (or what was left of it) was this mangled mess. What happened to her hair? Those beautiful golden locks that I fell for were, white and almost non-existent. What have I done, who was I looking at?
A quick thanks to 