Dad Insisted I Take Cold Showers with the Soap He Gave Me — When My Boyfriend Found Out Why, He Broke Down in Tears
When Amelia’s father handed her a bar of soap and told her to take cold showers with it, she had no idea there was a darker reason behind his request. Her world was shattered when her boyfriend discovered the terrifying truth about the soap.
I used to be “Daddy’s little girl,” but now, even saying those words makes me feel sick. The man I once idolized is no longer the father I thought I knew. Here’s what happened.
Growing up, I was incredibly close to my dad. I’m 23 now, but until a month ago, I was still living with my parents because Dad never wanted me to move out. I had the entire second floor to myself—my own bedroom and bathroom. It felt like my sanctuary. Or so I thought.
Dad had always been strict, but he mixed in moments of kindness. He’d tell me, “Character is built in discomfort. You need to go through tough times now to enjoy a luxurious life later.” Yet, he’d still bring me chocolates and ice cream when I was upset.
My mom was the opposite—always warm and loving, ready with hugs and home-cooked meals. But recently, something had changed. My parents grew distant, and the warmth in our home disappeared, replaced by an unsettling coldness.
Then the complaints started. Dad would say things like, “You’re too loud with your friends,” or “You’re staying out too late.” But the worst came when he said, “You smell terrible. Go take a cold shower and use the soap I gave you.”
I was stunned. I had never worried about my hygiene before, but his words hit me hard. He handed me a strange green bar of soap I’d never seen before, telling me it would “fix” the problem.
@gentlemanbluebunnyi’ll also never forget the one time my dad gave me a longer cold shower than a quick spray & said i couldn’t use a towel to dry off lol
From that moment, I became consumed by insecurity. I avoided my boyfriend, Henry, and started taking multiple showers a day, scrubbing myself raw with the soap. No matter how much I washed, Dad would still tell me I smelled bad.
The humiliation wore me down, and my mother’s silence hurt just as much. She said nothing, even as I spiraled into self-doubt.
Then one day, Henry came over to visit. He could tell I’d been distant and asked what was going on. Reluctantly, I asked if he thought I smelled bad. He laughed, thinking I was joking, but I wasn’t.
That’s when Henry went into the bathroom and found the soap. His expression changed instantly. “Where did you get this?” he asked, alarmed. “This isn’t soap—it’s used to strip industrial grease! It’s toxic, Amy.”
My heart sank. How could my father knowingly give me something that would harm me?
Henry insisted I go to the hospital and report my parents, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t face the reality that my dad had done something so cruel. Instead, Henry helped me move out. Within days, we were settled into a tiny apartment, and for the first time in months, I felt safe.
But I needed answers. I went back to confront my dad, holding the soap in my hand. I demanded to know why he gave it to me. He smirked and said, “You needed to learn a lesson.”
Then he told me the truth. During a vacation, a fortune teller told him my mother had been unfaithful. When he confronted her, she admitted I wasn’t his biological daughter. Enraged, he decided to punish her—and me.
“You’re not my daughter,” he said coldly. “You’re not my blood.”
My world fell apart. My father had tormented me for something that wasn’t my fault, and my mother had stayed silent, knowing the entire time. I told him I was done with him and that he’d be hearing from my lawyer.
Now, I’m living with Henry, trying to rebuild my life. I’ve filed a restraining order against my father and started legal proceedings. My mother has tried to reach out, but I refuse to speak to her. She stood by and let me suffer when I needed her the most.
I’m beyond thankful to have Henry. He’s been my rock, helping me find peace and laughter again. Without him, I don’t know where I’d be.
