I feel dirty as if what I have done is an evil thing. Alucard, oh how we
have ruined a good relationship. Whether is was his turn on us all, or my
reckless behavior with him, I know not. I feel like I love him, but that
isn't right. I'm supposed to kill his kind, and yet I've fallen in love
with one. Someone explain the logic in this please.
He was not beside me when I awoke, but his coat was, as if he left it there as a symbol of some sort. It was probably a mistake, I pray that a mistake was all it was, and I can't ask him until tonight, if I ask him at all. How do you ask something like him if what you have done was the right response to all the stress I'm under? For all I know, he's using me as a memory of my sister; he loved her, not me. Even now, I'm curled around the coat, my head on the pillow where he lay beside me, wondering if it were love or just hormones. Does he even have hormones? He's been dead for over 500 years, though he seems to have some sort of male attribute. I don't know I think I'm just confused.
I know that I could go down into that basement that he calls a home and find him in the chair that I first found him in, whether asleep or just thinking I don't know. It hasn't been long since I found him in there, waiting for someone to find him. We were fine until the priest, Anderson appeared trying to exact revenge on him. It worked, but so many things spawned from that chance meeting. The girl of Alucard's, Seras Victoria, she came and trained our men, then watched them be killed by her 'master.' How is he her master? What did he do to her that issued that kind of label? Another thing I refuse to ask of him, lest he believe I'm jealous of a vampire. She's left again, thank goodness. She was forced to help me reseal him, and that drove her away. The men, what was left of them are gone as well. The Hellsing Organization is no more than an old house. The vampires of England, what vampires of England? The only one that I have seen and conversed with was Alucard, and that girl Seras. Now I suppose I'm no better than them, though he says I'm not a vampire, but merely immortal. He should have let me die, it was his selfish pride that saved me, for if I died then there would be no more, the house would be torn down and he would be killed by Parliament. I hate him.
No, I don't hate him, but I don't love him either. What do I do with him? It's not like I can kill him, or him me. We're stuck, and I'm beginning to miss my other life, not that there was much there, an old cabin in the mountains, forests where I could hide, snow in Vermont. I miss it. I nearly wish I could leave here, leave him alone here and return to that life, the cabin is still there, I still own it. My ex-husband was forced to move out after the arrangements were made, the thought of going back to America is a nice one, but out of the question. There is too much riding on this house, and until I write the history of the Hellsing family, as I promised my boss/editor, Abraham, I cannot leave. I have started it, but there is too much I have to leave out, no one will believe that there are vampires and that they are real. I sent a letter to my editor, telling him of the things that cannot be included; there has been no response from him. Abraham doesn't trust me, or Alucard, for that matter. He thinks I have become a socialite in England and that the writings that I had contributed to the American people mean nothing to me. The history of this house, this family, it might as well be fiction for all the belief I'll get out of it. A good way to do it, but not a very profitable one. He doesn't understand that I'm an author, I'll be writing, thinking I'm getting some where and then he starts with the rubbing on my neck with his hands, his touch intoxicates me and I have to stop, to pay attention to him. I do love him, I know I do, but taking him anywhere but through the castle is an odd thought. I'd like to go back to America, see if he would come with me. But then I'd have to get a night flight and find a place for him in that bright cabin in Vermont where he can hide. It's worth a shot I guess, but I know he won't take it.
He was not beside me when I awoke, but his coat was, as if he left it there as a symbol of some sort. It was probably a mistake, I pray that a mistake was all it was, and I can't ask him until tonight, if I ask him at all. How do you ask something like him if what you have done was the right response to all the stress I'm under? For all I know, he's using me as a memory of my sister; he loved her, not me. Even now, I'm curled around the coat, my head on the pillow where he lay beside me, wondering if it were love or just hormones. Does he even have hormones? He's been dead for over 500 years, though he seems to have some sort of male attribute. I don't know I think I'm just confused.
I know that I could go down into that basement that he calls a home and find him in the chair that I first found him in, whether asleep or just thinking I don't know. It hasn't been long since I found him in there, waiting for someone to find him. We were fine until the priest, Anderson appeared trying to exact revenge on him. It worked, but so many things spawned from that chance meeting. The girl of Alucard's, Seras Victoria, she came and trained our men, then watched them be killed by her 'master.' How is he her master? What did he do to her that issued that kind of label? Another thing I refuse to ask of him, lest he believe I'm jealous of a vampire. She's left again, thank goodness. She was forced to help me reseal him, and that drove her away. The men, what was left of them are gone as well. The Hellsing Organization is no more than an old house. The vampires of England, what vampires of England? The only one that I have seen and conversed with was Alucard, and that girl Seras. Now I suppose I'm no better than them, though he says I'm not a vampire, but merely immortal. He should have let me die, it was his selfish pride that saved me, for if I died then there would be no more, the house would be torn down and he would be killed by Parliament. I hate him.
No, I don't hate him, but I don't love him either. What do I do with him? It's not like I can kill him, or him me. We're stuck, and I'm beginning to miss my other life, not that there was much there, an old cabin in the mountains, forests where I could hide, snow in Vermont. I miss it. I nearly wish I could leave here, leave him alone here and return to that life, the cabin is still there, I still own it. My ex-husband was forced to move out after the arrangements were made, the thought of going back to America is a nice one, but out of the question. There is too much riding on this house, and until I write the history of the Hellsing family, as I promised my boss/editor, Abraham, I cannot leave. I have started it, but there is too much I have to leave out, no one will believe that there are vampires and that they are real. I sent a letter to my editor, telling him of the things that cannot be included; there has been no response from him. Abraham doesn't trust me, or Alucard, for that matter. He thinks I have become a socialite in England and that the writings that I had contributed to the American people mean nothing to me. The history of this house, this family, it might as well be fiction for all the belief I'll get out of it. A good way to do it, but not a very profitable one. He doesn't understand that I'm an author, I'll be writing, thinking I'm getting some where and then he starts with the rubbing on my neck with his hands, his touch intoxicates me and I have to stop, to pay attention to him. I do love him, I know I do, but taking him anywhere but through the castle is an odd thought. I'd like to go back to America, see if he would come with me. But then I'd have to get a night flight and find a place for him in that bright cabin in Vermont where he can hide. It's worth a shot I guess, but I know he won't take it.