Okay kind of depressing but...

The one of a kind large (I mean almost life sized to kid me) deer stuffed animal (it was lying down with it's head up, and had velveteen antlers that had wire in them to keep them stiff).

My wealthy grandpa gave it to me. We were poor, so that was a big deal to have, but I didn't know anything but sentimental value (didn't even know its worth until it was gone), and the feeling of safety it gave me. In my mind that stuffed animal protected me from "the monster" at night.

I.miss.that.deer. Even as a kid I didn't believe God was protecting me (because what god would "have a plan" that involved what was happening to me?), but that deer... I loved that deer, and believed it was the only thing in the entire world that cared about me. I believed I loved it so much and it loved me so much it came alive at night just to keep me safe. It was sewn in a way so that it had this stern and serene look on its face like it was watching. It stopped people in their tracks. This thing looked like there was life behind those plastic eyes.

My dad sold it for meth since it was extremely valuable. He was the monster, btw. He had never climbed into my bed while I had the deer.

I never got to say goodbye. One weekend it was there, and the next visitation it was gone. It was never even discussed.