When Amelia’s father gave her a bar of soap and told her to take a cold shower with it, she had no idea that there was a sinister plan behind it. Her world was turned upside down when her boyfriend told her the horrifying truth about the soap.
I’ve always been a daddy’s girl, but now I feel sick when I say those words. I’m not his little girl, and he’s not the man I always thought he was. Let me tell you why.
Close relationship with my father
I’ve always been very close to my dad, like REALLY close. I’m 23 years old, and I lived with my parents until last month because my father didn’t want me to move out.
He gave me the second floor of the house, where I had my own bedroom and bathroom. Those two rooms belonged only to me; they were my safe space. Until Dad started complaining.
My father always seemed like a man with a tough personality but a kind heart. He adhered to strict principles, but at the same time he was caring and loving.
‘Character is forged in adversity,’ he often said. ‘If you want to live in luxury, you have to go through hardship first.’
But at the same time, he would buy me chocolate and ice cream when he saw that I was feeling down.
My mother, on the other hand, was always the typical caring mother. She hugged me, kissed me, and never refused my request to cook my favourite dish.
But in recent months, I felt that my parents had changed. They became cold and distant, as if all their love and care had evaporated.
The beginning of my father’s strange behaviour
Then my father’s endless complaints and reproaches began:
‘You were too noisy with your friends last night!’
‘You come home too late, Amy!’
‘You spend too much money on unnecessary things!’
But then he said something that really hurt my self-esteem:
‘You smell awful. Take a cold shower and use the soap I gave you!’
Me? I smell bad? Why all of a sudden?
My father handed me a bar of thick green soap with a strange smell and insisted that I use it. He assured me that it would help get rid of the unpleasant odour.
I was so embarrassed that I even stopped seeing my boyfriend, Henry. I constantly sniffed my skin, clothes, hair, and breath, checking to see what was bothering my father so much.
I followed his advice and started using the soap. More precisely, I started showering five times a day just to get rid of the imaginary smell.
I scrubbed my skin so hard that it became dry, flaky, and rough.
But my father still said:
‘You still smell like rotten onions! Did you really use this soap, Amy? Probably not.’
What hurt the most was my mother’s silence. She didn’t even try to defend me.
The discovery of the terrible truth
I tried to avoid my father, locking myself in my room so he wouldn’t smell me.
The turning point came when Henry came to see me. He noticed that I was avoiding him and wanted to understand what had happened.
‘Are you okay, Amy?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I was just busy. Everything’s fine,’ I forced a smile.
‘You don’t look fine,’ he said, concerned.
‘Henry… tell me, do I smell bad?’
He laughed, thinking I was joking:
‘No, of course not! You smell wonderful. Why do you ask?’
‘Never mind, forget it,’ I muttered.
A few minutes later, he came out of the bathroom with a bar of soap in his hand.
‘Who gave you that?! Are you showering with it?!’ His eyes widened.
‘Yes… my father. Why?’
‘Amy, that’s not soap. It’s used to clean grease and dirt off cars.’
‘What?!’
‘It’s toxic! It causes chemical burns!’
The shocking truth about parents
At that moment, my heart broke. How could my father do this to me?
I decided to get to the bottom of it. The next day, I returned to my parents’ house with the soap in my hand.
My father was sitting in the living room in front of the TV as usual, and my mother was in the kitchen.
‘I never thought you were capable of this, Dad,’ I said, holding up the bar of soap. ‘It’s toxic! It ruined my skin! Why did you do this?!’
My father smiled:
‘So you finally figured out what this thing is? Well… you needed a lesson.’
‘A lesson?! You almost killed me!’
My mother was silent, tears streaming down her cheeks.
‘Did you know, Mum? Were you involved in this too?!’
I saw her look away.
‘I want to know the truth! Why did you do it, Dad?!’
I wasn’t ready for what I heard next.
“Okay, do you want to know the truth? When your mother and I went on holiday last year, we got very drunk. A fortune teller told me that your mother had cheated on me.
I froze.
‘When I asked her in the morning if it was true, she confessed. She said you weren’t my daughter. You were the result of her affair while I was working abroad.’
I turned to my mother. She couldn’t look me in the eye.
“She begged me not to leave. I agreed, but on one condition: she had to pay for it. And so did you. Because YOU ARE NOT MY DAUGHTER!
The end of my relationship with my parents
My heart was shattered. He was taking revenge on me for my mother’s actions.
‘You gave me that toxic soap because you were angry with her?!’
‘You’re not my daughter,’ he said coldly.
I stood in silence, realising that I was being punished for something I wasn’t guilty of.
‘Fine. I’m done with you. You’ll hear from my lawyer.’
I left the house that had once been my refuge.
In the days that followed, I had my skin treated and consulted with a lawyer. My father received a notice of legal action and a restraining order. His reputation was ruined.
My mother tried to contact me, but I didn’t answer. She didn’t stand up for me then — why should I listen to her now?
Now I live with Henry and feel safe for the first time in a long time. I laugh, enjoy life, and thank fate for giving me someone like him. I don’t know what I would do without him.
