The first thing she did was release her anger. The anger that Newt had always been able to contain, control and focus. It was the anger that Seras had somehow managed to bring out of Newt, to expose in Newt's brief moment of weakness.
Resentful of her failure to change Seras, Newt took out her anger on the vampire's precious home. She went rampant; smashing furniture, breaking plates, ripping apart the very walls. She despised how Seras could pity her while refusing to acknowledge her own damnation. She hated how Seras refused to give up hope and insisted on seeing the world through a lens of wretched naivety. Most of all, Newt was enraged at the notion that by giving up her morality, hiding her emotions and allowing rage to fuel her was anything less than a sign of her strength. She saw the picture of Seras and her family, mocking Newt with their happiness. She violently threw the picture against the wall where the glass shattered into pieces.
Her rampage continued until she tore apart the fridge. Along with the uncooked meat, vegetables and fruit that crashed to the floor, a cardboard container Newt had never seen before broke open.
Curiosity overcame her rage, and for a moment Newt forgot her anger. She paused her destructive spree long enough to peer inside the broken box. Within the box was the remnants of Seras' secret gift to Newt, now reduced to a mound of pink mush.
A cake?
How had Seras known? Newt was now thirteen years old. It was the anniversary of her birth, the same day four years ago when the Masters had taken her, and when a mere twelve months later she had plunged a knife into her father's chest. Today was a day when she couldn't help but remember the pain and when her emotional barriers were at their weakest.
Unable to help herself, she scooped a piece of the cake onto her finger and let the frosting fall onto her tongue. It was strawberry.
Her favorite.
It was just like she remembered it. The frosting was smooth, coated in sugar to make it extra sweet, plus with the mouth-watering taste of the strawberry…Newt remembered how hyper it would make her, how she wouldn't sleep for hours. She lost herself in memories of presents and love from a lifetime ago. Her walls broke down and she savored a life that hadn't been marred by suffering, or controlled by vengeance. The sweet taste in her mouth became salty.
Newt was crying.
"No!" she screamed to herself as she knocked the cake away, splattering the wall with chunks of pink.
That's not me! That shouldn't be me!
That was the girl that had died in the Catacombs on her eleventh birthday. That's when the girl had died and Newt had been born in the murder of her parents, a child already condemned to Hell. Those kinds of thoughts belonged to someone who hadn't killed, who hadn't done what Newt had done.
To think I could ever be happy like that again…to think I could ever deserve that is delusional!
Worse, it was like Seras.
Newt thought back to the Catacombs, to one of the many captives she'd met in that nightmarish prison.
An old man, the few hairs on his head long since faded into a pale shade of grey. The wrinkles and age spots dotting his face contrasted with the Master's grotesque, if somewhat youthful appearance. In spite of the blood running down his face, the man still managed to retain some look of solace. His ripped clothing was unmistakable for the uniform of a Catholic priest.
Newt had found him, his hands chained to the ceiling while the rest of his body remained limp, in one of the Masters feeding rooms less than a month since accepting her new name. Quietly she crept up to the priest, certain that the Masters had left the room unattended.
"Child…" The priest had said weakly, his dull eyes straining to remain open, "What are you doing in a place like this? Are you an angel?"
"No." she's replied flatly. Newt retrieved a half-eaten loaf of bread, tearing off tiny pieces to feed to the priest. The man's vigor returned as he eagerly chewed on the paltry meal.
"How are you so calm?" she finally asked as he finished the last of the rare food.
He didn't answer immediately, perhaps taken aback by Newt's odd question.
"I'm going to die." He said quietly. "But I happily accept this, knowing that my pained existence on this earth will soon be over. For I have lived a decent life, free of sin and soon I will be with God, in a land of eternal love, free of suffering."
"No you won't." Newt had cut in. She remembered how Darius had described ghouls. This man's soul would never see paradise, instead remaining bound to earth in his own corpse.
"Have faith, child." The priest suddenly coughed up blood, which dripped to the floor. "Have hope." He finished weakly.
"Hope and faith have led you here and not even God can save you now." Newt coldly retorted. Then she paused as a thought occurred to her. "But I can. If there really is a paradise for you, then…I could help you reach it…I can help you escape."
"Escape?" he had almost grinned at the thought. "Child, those monsters are everywhere, and how would you free me from these chains? You must save yourself. I am too weak t-".
He never finished that sentence, his face frozen in a portrait of shock as Newt plunged a pen into his chest. It was the only weapon she'd been able to scavenge so far, now destroyed in a single use. Newt had become more skilled with even that poor weapon. The pen had expertly pierced the muscle and sinew, navigating between his ribs to find man's heart.
"Maybe you found your paradise." She had spoken to the lifeless priest. "But I never will."
For even if there was a God and a paradise, Newt would never be welcome into such a place. Nor would Newt ever ask for God's forgiveness. After everything this horrible life had done to her, He should be asking for hers.
But at least she had learned something from the man. By accepting her own inevitable damnation, and to give up on any chance of forgiveness Newt found a new sense of calm which she would use to grow stronger.
She had discarded the useless pen to the ground and noticed a rumble in her stomach. She'd immediately regretted giving the bread to the priest, it had been a pointless waste on the dead man. In the future she wouldn't be so careless.
As Newt sifted through the memory, she came to a realization. She understood the true pain that Seras caused her and the real reason behind her all-consuming hate of the vampire.
Seras gave Newt hope of having a better life and of being a better person. Seras could make Newt forget, if only for the briefest moment, that life was anything but the grim reality Newt knew it to be. That pain was worse than anything the Masters could inflict on Newt.
Mercy killings or not, Newt's past was carved in the deaths of countless prisoners. She was just as damned as Seras. The weight of her sins weighed her down in life, just as they would in death.
Certain once again of who she was, Newt left the abandoned house, promising herself never to return.
AN: Looking back on this chapter. I feel like the cake idea was a little forced. My goal for this chapter was to introduce the idea that Newt, while definitely cold-hearted and murderous, is coming from a good place. She kills people out of mercy, because that was the only thing she could do to help. At the same time, as Seras was started her descent into a darker side, I wanted Newt to start exploring her better side.
