Dad always claimed I smelled awful and demanded I bathe with the bar of soap he handed me: but one day I discovered it wasn’t soap at all 😲😲
Dad never stopped repeating the same words: “You stink, go wash up. Use this bar only—no other.” I obeyed, never daring to question. The icy water stung my skin, and the bar’s sharp odor filled the air so intensely it made my head spin.
Day after day I grew weaker: my skin cracked, sleep vanished, exhaustion settled deep inside me. Mom said nothing. She always said nothing, which was strange—once she was the one I told everything to.
I scrubbed myself three times daily, yet Dad still complained that I reeked.
One night, my boyfriend dropped by. I couldn’t hold back anymore and asked:
— Tell me honestly… do I smell bad?
He chuckled at first, thinking I was teasing. But when he saw I wasn’t smiling, he shook his head. That’s when I told him what had been happening at home. Moments later, he went into the bathroom—and returned pale, trembling, clutching the bar in his hand.
“Where did you get this?!” His voice shook.
— Dad… why?
He pressed both hands to his temples.
— This isn’t soap! How could you wash with it? It’s…
— It’s used to ki:ll and repel pests. It’s an industrial chemical, not made for skin!
My vision blurred, the room tilting around me.
“What do you mean?..” My voice caught in my throat.
He slowly flipped the bar over, pointing to the tiny letters printed on the wrapper.
— See here? It says: “Pesticide treatment.” No wonder you’re sick.
I slid onto the edge of the cold bathtub, its tiles pulling the strength from my body. My heart pounded so hard it drowned out his words.
Rage, terror, betrayal—everything tangled into one suffocating knot. Why had Dad forced this on me? And why had Mom kept her silence?
My boyfriend lowered himself beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
— We’ll get through this, okay? You’ll never touch it again. I’ll find out what’s really going on.
But the look in his eyes told a story his words did not. There was deep worry there… and something else. He clearly knew far more than he was willing to admit.
