My father told me to take cold showers, always saying, “You smell horrible, go take a cold shower and use the soap I gave you.” And I did like five times a day — it was driving me mad. My mom stayed silent, which was strange since we were usually close. I couldn’t understand why my dad was so insistent, but I trusted him. I thought he knew best.
The soap was a strange, grayish block that crumbled easily and had a slightly metallic smell. I had never questioned it much, assuming it was some kind of special antiseptic soap. The cold showers were harsh, especially during the winter months, but I did them religiously, hoping to rid myself of whatever perceived stench my father noticed.
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