Pain. That's the only way I can truly describe the experience of turning. Their blood trickles down your throat, burning your insides, leaving a horrible, hot, sticky aftertaste. Then there's darkness, you know you're gone, you know that you're dead...but you're not. It's like, falling asleep, you only see the dark, pitch black backdrop, but you know where you are, you remember everything, your past, your present, there's no life flashing in front of your eyes, it's just blackness.
But, then you feel it, the burning that started in your throat spreads through your body, your limp, lifeless body and you feel a power surging through every limb your possess. You hunger for more of the hot, red liquid that you had been feasting on only minutes before. Your senses pick up, everything seems so much louder, every small, insignificant noise that you didn't care about before suddenly sounds like a drum being hit repeatedly right next to your ear. Next is the smell, it's all so overwhelming at first, but once you tune into the sweet, metallic smell of the blood, everything else gets drowned out. Finally, comes the option, the choice you get to turn it all off, every emotion, every thought, every memory you have ever made, you can make the choice to forget it all, to live your life as an emotionless zombie with no past to care about. That's the worst part, even after being killed that's the part that gets you the most. Do you choose to remember everything? Remember everyone that you have been forced to leave behind? Or do you choose to forget it? To forget every fantastic memory that you have been given, and anyone that ever gave a damn about you throughout your life?
I wish I could say that I made the right choice, to not forget everybody I cared about, to remember all the good times that I had as a human, but I'd be lying. Of course I wanted to forget, so that I didn't remember the pain I had put my family through, I didn't want to remember being forced to leave my best friend, Lexi. But the thought that someday, maybe even soon, I might turn on them, make them become the monster that I was fated into, or drink from them, draining all the blood that runs through their body keeping them alive, and not even be able to remember who they are and how much they once meant to me. That was enough to make me remember.
The thing is by remembering my past life, my pre-vampire phase, I have been forced into remembering everything that happens post-turning, including remembering my killer; Niklaus Mikaelson.