Guns
As a child, I grew up around guns. They were always within my reach. When I was five, my father took me to his bedroom and showed me the gun in his nightstand. He told me that it was there for emergencies, but that I was not to touch it. I never did.
I would target practice with my father (when he made me), but guns never interested me. Only once did I hold a gun for protection.
Home alone as a teenager, I heard a stranger knocked on the door. When no one answered, the man began peering in windows. Frightened, I called my parents. My father told me to get the gun and stay in my room. I lay the gun on my bed, as the man continued to peer in many of the windows.
The man eventually left, and the gun remained on my bed until my father came to retrieve it. I have been to various gun shows and gun ranges with my father since then, but I have never held a gun.
Though I held the gun for protection, after discovering that the strange man was a friend of my father I feared what I could have done with that gun had a door to the house been unlocked.