*The last prompt would probably be either my reaction if I was turned into a vampire, or the reason I'd refuse if asked under the same circumstances Seras was turned in. If someone says they'll save me, I want my LIFE to be saved, not my existence. It becomes a moot point on "saving" when I end up an undead vampire. That's still DEAD.
Prompt: Where were you?
Seras sighed as she took the plastic straw in her mouth.
Her master had returned.
The joy was tempered by an extremely improper and disobedient feeling of anger.
Where had he been the last thirty years?
Killing his familiars?
It was Master!
He could kill billions of humans within a month if he was left free to roam without Sir Integra keeping him on a leash!
And he had taken thirty years to kill a measly army of a few million?!
He had left her alone, in the cold, to learn all by herself!
She was still so young in vampiric terms.
She had to learn the ropes all by herself, and as she did so, good men, men who simply were trying to do the right thing, had gotten killed under her command.
Why hadn't her master come back sooner?!
She shook her head irritably, leaning her Harkonnen against the wall as she finished and crumpled the blood pack.
She was a good fledgling, and she wouldn't betray her master by thinking things like this.
But the resentment still lingered.
Prompt: I'm sorry.
Seras stared at the mass grave, choking back tears.
Her body couldn't afford the loss of nutrients, and bloody tears on her face just might alert the other visitors to her otherworldly nature.
But she wanted to cry all the same.
Eddie…Simon…all of them…all of them died…
It had been, without question, the most terrifying and the most horrible night of her life.
All of her friends, her family, the ones who had accepted her, all of them had died at the fangs of the vampire and the jaws of the ghouls.
All but one.
All but her.
I'm sorry…
Survivor's guilt was indeed a horrible thing.
And now, all of her new friends, her new family, they had died too.
Down to the last man, the soldiers and staff of the Hellsing Manor had been slaughtered.
Then they had become ghouls.
Then she had killed them again.
She stared at the graves as the rain poured down, a dead thing, just as her comrades were.
But she had been given a chance that they hadn't.
A single red tear slid down her face, and she quickly wiped it away with the back of her gloved hand.
I'm so sorry.
Prompt: So ungrateful.
Seras sat, arms folded crossly, staring at the small plastic bag of human blood.
Master, this wasn't what I meant!
When he had asked her if she was a virgin, she had been too scared to understand what was going on and had replied only because he was nearly aiming his gun at her.
She had asked him to save her life.
Not kill her.
Not make her undead.
She had wanted to live!
To enjoy the rest of her life!
Not to be condemned to this!
Tears sprung to her eyes as she stewed in her misery, laying her chin on her folded arms as they rested themselves on the wooden surface.
She would never be able to enjoy a day at the beach again, or eat chocolate, or buy a silver necklace or earring.
Those abilities, those pleasures, they had been taken from her.
Now she could only lurk in the gloom and choke down the thick, repulsive blood.
Now she could just stagnate and exist, forever.