"What happened last night will never happen again. Do you forgive me?"

"Sure, Daddy," Debi said, not daring to say anything else

But the next time Mommy went to a meeting, it happened again.
It happened the way it always happened.

"Daddy! NO! STOP!"

"Not a word about this to your mother, Debi. Understand?"

"Yes, Daddy," Debi whispered.

"She wouldn't believe you anyway. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Daddy," Debi whispered.

"Besides, you really like it, don't you? You enjoy it, don't you?"

"Yes, Daddy," Debi whispered.

But she knew she was lying; she was afraid not to lie.

She didn't like it, she didn't enjoy it.

How could anyone like, how could anyone enjoy, that?

"I'm going to bed now. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Daddy."

Debi lay under the quilt, thinking.

She knew that the next night her Daddy would come to her and say,
"What happened last night will never happen again. Do you forgive me?"

Debi had finally had enough.

She got out of bed and went as quietly as a falling rose petal into her parents' bedroom.

Her Daddy was asleep.

There was a pair of sharp scissors on the desk.

"You're right, Daddy," she thought. "It will never happen again."

She took the scissors and