I love my Teddy Bunny. We were such great friends, but Mom didn't like her—she was passed down from Grandma. Mom and Grandma never got along, though I never knew why.
I loved Bunny so much that words couldn't describe it. Mom once tried to take her away from me, but I didn't let her. She was my only friend.
Bunny had long floppy ears that touched the ground when I set her down, a round body and limbs, and a soft pale pink color. A small rose-red bow clipped just under her ear, and her black button eyes held a familiar comfort. I'd had her since I was a baby.
I was only eight years old, and I'd held onto Bunny ever since Grandma passed away when I was five. I only had a few memories of her, but with all my heart, I knew she had been so lovely to me. I just couldn't understand why Mom never liked Grandma.
One night, I woke up in my room and realized Bunny was missing.
I sat up, heart pounding, and walked downstairs to the kitchen—where I found Mom trying to destroy her.
I yelped in anger, rushing forward. Snatching Bunny from her grasp, I screamed—
"Don't touch my Bunny!"
Mom reeked of alcohol. I could tell she was intoxicated—she'd been like this ever since Dad got caught up in work.
I ran back to my room, clutching Bunny close, desperately patching up the rips in her fabric. I stayed up until midnight, stitching her together with clumsy, shaking hands.
That's when I heard it—an argument between Mom and Dad.
They never used to be like this. But ever since Dad was consumed by work—ever since Mom was diagnosed with something called bipolar—things had changed.
I didn't know what that meant. I was only eight, after all. I didn't understand.
I crawled onto my bed, switched off the lamp, and left my nightlight on. Hiding under my fluffy blankets, I listened.
Glass shattered downstairs. Voices rose and crashed.
I squeezed my eyelids shut, trying to block it out—but I couldn't hold back the tears.
I cried myself to sleep.
The next morning, a knock at the door startled me.
I was home alone—I hadn't been enrolled in school that day.
My fingers shook as I reached for the door handle, twisting it slowly. I clutched Bunny tightly against my chest.
Standing before me was a tall man in a blue police uniform.
"H-Hello, Mr. Police Man…" I mumbled, nervous.
The officer's eyes widened in surprise—finding a child home alone.
He knelt to my level, offering a kind smile.
"Hello there, little one. Are your parents home?"
I shook my head, gripping Bunny harder.
Concern flickered across his face. "Are you home alone?"
I didn't answer—just nodded.
He sighed, standing up, pulling out a small device and speaking into it.
"Everything is clear, but… there's a little girl here. Alone."
After a brief conversation, he turned back to me.
"How about you come with me to the station?" he said gently. "I can buy you some sweets on the way."
I hesitated—but I went with him anyway.
At the station, Mom and Dad finally arrived, speaking with the officers.
Mom rushed toward me, hugging me tightly. "Oh, honey… What have I done?"
But even as she pulled me close, I smelled the alcohol on her breath.
I glanced over her shoulder—toward the officer who had picked me up.
Through the window, I caught him watching us carefully, his expression unreadable.
I knew he smelled it too.
But his focus wasn't on Dad—only on Mom.
Dad was stressed, but the officer seemed more concerned about me.
He turned away, speaking with his fellow officers.
I sat in the back of Dad's car, holding Bunny as my parents talked—arguing about something I didn't understand.
"We can't let them take her."
My brows furrowed. Take… who?
"…Mommy? Daddy?" I whispered, trying to catch their attention.
They didn't hear me.
Then—headlights flashed.
A car was coming toward us. Too fast. Too close.
"Mommy! Daddy! The car!"
Their heads snapped forward—too late.
Everything went black.
I woke to a bright hospital room, white curtains draping down the sides.
My vision adjusted, and I realized—I was in a hospital bed.
A familiar voice spoke.
"Oh, good—you're awake."
I turned, finding the officer sitting beside me.
"M-Mr. Police Man?" I mumbled.
He smiled. "You've been out for a day and a half."
And then—he placed something near my arms.
"Here's Miss Bunny. She got a bit ripped in the accident, so I took her home and had my wife fix her up."
I hugged Bunny tightly, warmth blooming in my chest—until a sudden thought struck me.
"…Where's Mommy and Daddy?"
"Are they okay?"
The officer's face fell.
I already knew what he was about to say.
"…I'm sorry. They didn't make it."
Tears poured down my cheeks.
I squeezed Bunny tighter, shaking.
The officer moved—about to hug me—but I turned away, curling up on my side.
He paused. Then, after a moment, he walked away.
I lay there, silent, staring out the window.
Dark clouds loomed over the city.
Rain poured against the glass.
I listened.
Tip. Tap. Tip. Tap.
I had never felt so lost.