Jeff felt the life pour out of him and he closed his eyes, scared. He didn't want to die! Not like this!
He wasn't sure what to expect, the world to go dark, or to see his cervine body below him as he rose up, or even for his room to reappear around him as the Chronovac saved his life.
Instead, he was dully aware of everything around him. He felt no pain, but he could still feel as his body was dragged to a tree and slit open to drain it of blood and field dressed. He could hear the hunter and his buddies whoop it up that they'd taken him down. He could see as he was later carried to a truck and dumped in the pickup bed to be hauled to a home.
The horror only got worse. His head was cut off, and thankfully the awareness of his body faded. He didn't want to feel it as his muscles were cut up and made into dinner. His head was taken to a taxidermists shop and over a few weeks was mounted to a board. Even when Jeff had his brains and eyes removed and replaced with stuffing and glass marbles, he could still think and feel and hear. He was hung front a wall in the hunters home for a couple of years, just watching as his family grew. He would have lights hung from his antlers at Christmas and would watch as the family fought and loved.
After a couple years, the hunter opened a bar and he was moved there, hung over a fireplace to look over the scene, night after night.
Eventually, one day, no one came to open the bar. It went dark and stayed that way for weeks. Jeff had long past despair over his situation, feeling that it was his own private hell that he was forced to endure, though he wasn't sure why.
After a time, Jeff wasn't sure if it was days or decades, someone came into the dusty bar and looked around. They moved boldly, these weren't teenage vandals but rather people with a purpose. Eventually, they turned their flashlights on him. "There he is!" said one.