Sarah and I have much in common. We both lost our parents at a most vulnerable age. She, after they lost their money. Her father had a stroke. Her mother suffered a fatal heart attack caring for him. He died soon after. Sarah tried to do her best, but without money the devoted souls in the medical establishment were blind to her needs. Now I didn't truly lose my parents. They lost me. The same Crusader horde responsible for the burning of the synagogue descended on Jews throughout the region. The unknown vampire who created me actually went to my father's camp to tell him I perished in the fire. My father and his entourage were hastily packing up when he got the message. They were fleeing to the coast, hopping to find a ship that would take them south to a Moorish port. A band of blood soaked Crusaders encountered my creator, as he returned to his rocky lair. They had a vampire traveling with them, a prisoner, a pathetic, little 'elf', or child vampire on the cusp of puberty. She feared for her very existence. It was her job to finger any 'unclean' souls found along the way. A group of these unwashed barbarians attempted to overpower my creator, but he fought them off, sublimating through a few and instantly shredding them to bits. But his strength soon waned. They pinned him to the ground and locked him in a heavy, 'iron maiden' minus the usual interior spikes. He screamed. He raged. But it was no use. The chains were too heavy and the locks too strong. Perhaps if he could feed?. My maker needed blood and was surrounded by souls deserving of death, but he could not take a drop.... So they carried him to Rome, where he was kept as a curiosity, deep within the hidden Vatican archives. I learned all this much later from the little 'elf' girl. She survived. For a while she had a successful career as a waif-like fashion model. But that is an entirely different tale and one that she should tell herself.