My Dad Told Me to Take Cold Showers with the Soap He Gave Me — When My Boyfriend Discovered the Truth, He Broke Down
When Amelia’s father handed her a bar of soap and insisted she take cold showers with it, she had no idea something sinister was behind his request. Her world shattered when her boyfriend uncovered the horrifying truth about the soap.
I used to be “Daddy’s little girl,” but now even saying those words makes me sick. The man I once adored is no longer the father I thought he was. Here’s how everything changed.
Growing up, I was incredibly close to my dad. I’m 23 now, but until just 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 bedroom and bathroom felt like my private escape. At least, I thought they did.
Dad was always strict but balanced it with moments of kindness. He used to say, “Character is built in discomfort. You have to go through tough times now to enjoy a better life later.” Still, he’d bring me chocolates and ice cream when I was feeling down.
My mom was the opposite—always warm, loving, and ready with hugs or my favorite meals. But recently, something changed. My parents grew distant, the warmth in our home disappeared, and everything started feeling cold.
Then the complaints from Dad began. “You’re too loud with your friends,” “You’re staying out too late,” “You’re wasting money.” But the worst came when he said, “You smell awful. Go take a cold shower and use the soap I gave you.”
I was shocked. I’d never been self-conscious about my hygiene, but Dad’s words made me question everything. He handed me a strange green bar of soap I’d never seen before, claiming it would fix the odor problem.
From that moment, insecurity consumed me. I started avoiding my boyfriend, Henry, and began taking multiple showers a day, scrubbing myself raw with the soap. But no matter how much I washed, Dad kept telling me I smelled bad.
The constant humiliation wore me down, and what hurt the most was my mom’s silence. She stood by, saying nothing, as I spiraled into doubt and confusion.
Things changed when Henry came over one day. He noticed I’d been acting distant and asked what was going on. Hesitant, I asked if I smelled bad. He laughed, thinking I was joking, but I wasn’t.
@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
Then he went into the bathroom and found the soap. His face immediately changed. “Where did you get this?” he asked, alarmed. “This isn’t soap—it’s used to strip industrial grease! It’s toxic, Amy.”
I felt my heart drop. How could my father do this to me? How could he knowingly give me something harmful?
Henry urged me to go to the hospital and report my parents, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wasn’t ready to accept that my father had done something so cruel. Instead, I asked Henry to help me move out. Within days, we were in a small apartment, and for the first time in months, I felt safe.
But I needed answers. So, I went back to confront my dad. I showed him the soap and demanded to know why he gave it to me. He smirked and said, “You needed to learn a lesson.”
That’s when the truth came out. While on vacation, a fortune teller told my dad that my mom had been unfaithful. When he confronted her, she admitted I wasn’t his biological daughter. Furious, he decided to make her—and me—pay.
“You’re not my daughter,” he said coldly. “You’re not my blood.”
My world crumbled. My father had punished me for something that wasn’t my fault, and my mother stood by, knowing everything. I told him I was done and that he’d hear from my lawyer.
Now, I’m living with Henry and slowly rebuilding my life. I’ve filed a restraining order against my father and begun legal proceedings. My mom tries to reach out, but I refuse to speak to her. She stood by and let me suffer when I needed her most.
I’m so thankful to have Henry by my side. He’s been my rock, helping me find peace and laughter again. Without him, I don’t know where I’d be.
