I’m 23 and used to live with my parents. My dad and I were very close, and he had always been the strict yet caring type, with his tough-love philosophy: “Character is built in discomfort.” He would often balance his strictness with acts of kindness, like buying me chocolates when I was feeling down.
Lately, however, my parents had grown distant and cold. My dad began criticizing everything I did, from staying out late to spending money. The final straw was when he handed me a strange green soap and told me I smelled bad. He insisted I use it and take cold showers. I followed his advice, taking multiple showers a day, but my skin became dry and irritated, and my father continued to complain.
My mother, who had always been loving and supportive, remained silent during these humiliations. Her lack of support left me feeling even more isolated.
The turning point came when my boyfriend, Henry, visited. Noticing my distress, he asked to use the bathroom and emerged holding the soap. He looked horrified and told me it wasn’t soap at all but a substance used to clean industrial machinery. It was toxic and could cause chemical burns.
A woman washing her legs | Source: freepik.com/freepik
Shocked and heartbroken, I realized my father had intentionally tried to harm me. Henry wanted to go to the hospital and the police, but I was too overwhelmed to accept that my father could be so cruel.
We moved into a small apartment, and I eventually confronted my parents. I held up the soap and demanded to know why my father had done this. He revealed that he had discovered my mother’s infidelity and, in his anger, had decided to punish both her and me. He claimed I was not his biological daughter and that his actions were part of a twisted revenge.
The revelation shattered me. I felt betrayed and used. I told my father I would be pursuing legal action and left their home.
After seeking medical treatment for my skin and consulting a lawyer, my father was served with a restraining order and faced a lawsuit. His actions caused his reputation to suffer, and he faced scorn from his circle.
My mother tried to contact me, but I ignored her calls. If she couldn’t stand up for me, I didn’t see a reason to engage with her.
Now, living with Henry, I feel a peace I hadn’t felt in a long time. I’m grateful for his support and the new beginning I’ve found with him.
