Disclaimer: I don't own characters, and I make no money from this.

Will continue if it's wanted, otherwise, okay with keeping this too myself.

*John*

I wake slowly, wincing at the bright white light surrounding me. I cover my eyes, because it's unbearable; and I'm not sure why. It takes a lot longer than I'm comfortable with for my eyes to adjust to the light. And, in the end, just barely.
I sit up slowly, my stomach roiling and look around my surroundings. I'm in a medium sized room. It's covered in all white - white walls that look to be made of metal, white floor, and white ceiling. And a steel door to my left in the middle of the room. The bed I'm lying on is across from it. A toilet and sink covered by a thin white sheet is set up in the right corner of the room.
I also notice a camera in the left corner of the room, focused on me.
"What the hell? Where am I?" I murmur, removing the paper thin and rough, stiff sheet from me and place my feet on the cold floor. The cold stings my feet a bit.
I startle at a loud click filling the room. "Ah, Mr. Watson, you're awake," says a man's cheerful voice. "We weren't sure you'd survive the Turn."
I look around and find a speaker above my bed.
"Turn?" I exclaim, failing to not panic at that word. "What do you mean?"
The man sighs. "Mr. Watson, do you remember anything from where you were posted?"

I search my memories, pulling at anything to prove that there is no way I could ever be Turned. But I draw blanks. All can remember is that I was stationed in Afghanistan, fighting to keep my country safe.
"Nothing that could mean I'm Turning," I answer honestly.
The man sighs again, sounding weary and almost sorry. "Mr. Watson-"
"Doctor," I correct sharply. "If I was Turned, then I'd lose that title," I say, sticking to denial and trying to keep my voice from wavering.
He sighs again. "Then you know it's true," he says solemnly.
I shake my head. "No. I was fighting in Afghanistan. Against humans," I state firmly.
"It's what you and your company thought," he starts. "You were stationed in Afghanistan. You were fighting against human terrorist at first, but a vampire group, who fight against humans attacked them and Turned them. The terrorists used their newly acquired abilities to their advantaged. Your camp was ambushed." He pauses, as if it's hard for him to continue.
From my position, it's harder to hear.
"Wha-what happened?" I ask, my voice just a whisper, tears threatening.
"A distress call was made from your camp, but the responding team was too late. They found you torn to shreds and bloodied, and with a machete in your hands. You beheaded many of your attackers. You fought hard...but you couldn't save any of your team. And you had a defining bite wound on your left shoulder and were in the process of Turning. I believe your...Sire bit you while you decapitated him, accidentally ingesting some of his blood.
The rescue team subdued you instead of killing you because they couldn't stand to lose another brother-in-arms was their reasoning," he explains.
I look at my body, finding it unscarred. And my heart sinks. A vampire would heal quickly and have no scarring.
"It's been eight days," I state monotonously, pulling up what I learned about Vampires from med school. "The normal incubation period of a Vampire. I have no scars because of the rapid healing abilities vampires have. I feel different and my senses feel...intense. The light feels like I'm looking directly into the sun. My skin feels raw - the air is too cold and the bed and my clothes feel rougher, like wool. And they obviously aren't," I list, rubbing the hem of my cotton shirt. "I smell nothing, so I assume the room is cloaked heavily in neutralizers, but I'm sure I'd be smelling...humans," I say, feeling sick at how I'll react when I do come into contact with a human, and how the hunger I feel now will change and intensify.
God, this cannot be happening to me!
"Correct. And, yes, those are the normal...attributes of a N.T., Newly Turned," he says simply.
I nod, feeling the tears finally slip. "When will I be...terminated?"
"You won't, Mr. Watson," the man says easily.
I frown in confusion. "The army kills all soldiers who are Turned during active duty."
"That is true, but your brothers and sisters-in-arms fought to have you sent here. This facility is a no-kill. We will rehabilitate and will find you a Sire," he explains.
I feel torn. I'm happy I was pardoned, that I'm allowed to live, but what kind of life is being a vampire. I almost wish I was killed along with my bretheren.
"And what if I don't want a Sire?" I ask disspirited. Already knowing the answer, but hoping maybe the Created Laws have changed in the last eight days.
The man sighs somberly. "You don't get a choice anymore. You know Newly Turned Created vampires don't get the same freedoms as the Ancients. For the first three months we will assess you; help you adjust to your new senses and learn to restrain...your monstrous urges and coexist with humans. If you do well within the three months, you will then be added to the list to be claimed by a Sire." he says clinically, like he's said it a million times. And I'm sure he must have. Vampire Turnings are common these days.
I nod and sigh despondently. "Okay. And I'll cooperate and restrain myself the best I can, but I concede to any methods used to protect others."
"Good, you have knowledge of the Intake process. And thank you, Mr. Watson," the man says, sounding relieved.
"Just John, please," I ask. "I don't want to hear something so formal for three months, and however long it takes to be claimed by a Sire."
"Okay, John," he says, sounding more friendly. "I know you must be hungry, but I want you assessed before we feed you."
I feel sickened at the thought. "Because I may be allergic to blood," I clarify.
"Yes. Most human to vampire Turnings don't go as well as hoped. Many Newlys die of starvation because they can't stomach blood. We have synthetic now that can help. Not great at curbing the cravings, but it keeps the vampire...functioning," he says. "We want to make this transition as easy as possible for you, John. You didn't deserve this. You served your country bravely. You tried to save your company. This is not the repayment a war hero deserves," he adds vehemently.
I feel my face heat, or imagine I do because as a vampire, I no longer have hot flowing blood to blush. "Thank you. Am I back in Britain?"
"Yes. Also, I'm Dr. Brian Stirling. I'll be overseeing your care. You'll have many nurses to look after you and assist you. And you will be assigned a caseworker to find you a Sire after you are assessed and can handle being around humans," he says.
"Okay," I say, feeling the reality of the situation begin to crush me. "Um, before all that...can I have a few moments alone?" my voice wavering.
"Oh. Yes, of course. Just wave at the camera when you are ready," he says easily and I hear a click signaling the mic is off.
I then walk over to the makeshift bathroom, pull the curtains around me, sink to my knees and begin sobbing.