When I was six, a vampire killed my parents.
It killed them slow... and me made me watch.
By the time the Slayers had arrived, the vampire had forced pieces of its "food" down my throat. The Slayer's magic killed the vampire, but they couldn't reverse what had been done to me.
No child should ever know the taste of their parents.
So believe me when I say this.
I hate vampires.
Hate them with every bone in my body.
And so help me, I will throw myself at the sun if it means I obliterate every last one of them.