“Who will take care of you?” he cried. Dibs looked at me. “That is the father,” he said. “He says he is sorry. Who will buy you things and take care of you? I am your father! Please don’t hurt me. I am sorry for all I ever did to you! Oh, I am so sorry. Please, Dibs, please forgive me! I am so sorry.” He continued to shovel on the sand and the father doll was buried in his prison.
