He started crying, “They didn’t tell you, did they?! Baby, this isn’t soap! It’s used to decontaminate metals—it’s industrial soap!”

I stared at him in shock, the realization hitting me like a tidal wave. My father was making me scrub myself with something meant to strip paint and grime off machines, not cleanse human skin. I felt a knot in my stomach as I tried to process why my father would do such a thing.

My boyfriend pulled me into a hug, his voice trembling with concern. “This stuff can be really harmful, especially if you’ve been using it as much as you said. It explains why your skin has been so dry and itchy.”