Got the idea of this story from reading the synopsis of Birth of a Killer. All characters belong to Darren Shan. I just gave Larten's brother and the foreman names. Below the story is the synopsis from Barnes and Noble. Please enjoy, and review!

How I Was Born a Killer

"Mr. Crepsley!" Darren called for me within the Hall of Khledon Lurt. I turned from my mug of blood to see what he wanted. He had a mischievous grin, which worried me. He sat across from me with curious eyes.

"Yes, Darren?" I asked cautiously. I slowly started bringing the mug up to my lips.

"Why'd you become a vampire?" He asked. I froze, nearly dropping the mug. I knew Darren was curious by nature, but to be this curious…

"Why do you ask?" I pressed on. He shrugged.

"Gavner told me every vampire has their own reasons, and I was curious to know what your reason was."

I decided it would not be bad to tell him. After all, he was my assistant. And besides, if I did not, he would ask Seba, and Seba would tell him.

I set down the mug. "Alright Darren, because you asked, I will tell you. I was a fugitive." I waited for his reaction.

Darren nearly choked in shock, and then burst out laughing. "You? A fugitive? That's impossible!" He calmed down and pulled himself together. "What did you do? Hijack a horse?"

I gnashed my teeth in anger and frustration. "No." I growled. "I killed a man."

Darren's smile faded. "You, what?" He gasped.

"You heard me, Master Shan." I sneered. "I killed a man. I was about your age…"

"C'mon Larten, we'll be late!" My little brother, John, called.

"Ok, ok, hold on!" I laughed. I knew as well as he that if we were late again, Mr. Vanderson, our foreman, would have our heads. He was as strict as there was.

Our parents died when we were young. We had no close relatives or family friends, so I promised myself that I would protect John. We got jobs and went off on our own.

I was older and much more mature than John. I was also a good and hard worker. John, on the other hand, was like any hyper ten-year-old. He would run about, making noise and annoying other child workers. When the foreman would come to investigate the ruckus, he would pretend to be working, and none of the other children would speak otherwise.

As we arrived, Mr. Vanderson snorted angrily. "You're late."

"Sorry sir. Won't happen again." I said. He grunted.

"Make sure it doesn't." And we hurried to our stations.

The day went on as it usually did. Usually Mr. Vanderson only checks in at the beginning and end of the day, as well as lunchtime. But he came to check on us an hour after lunch, and unfortunately, John was goofing off. I was not worried. Sometimes John needs a smack in the ear. But by the evil grin on Vanderson's face, I think he would get it worse.

He caught John by the back of the shirt and sneered. "Why, if it isn't the troublemaker I've been trying to catch for a long time. I hope you understand, boy, the punishment I give for misbehaving kids."

"You fire them?" John asked sheepishly.

"No. I—"He stopped as a few kids started to throw rocks at him. I laughed softly as he turned to them with rage. They stopped instantly.

"Do you know why I put up with you, John? It's because your brother gets the work done, but I'm getting a little sick and tired of it. Because of your meddling, you have caused working children to rebel and stop, and I don't like that." And from a holster I had never noticed before, he pulled out a handgun.

"Mr. Vanderson, what are you doing?" I shrieked. "You could hurt somebody with that!"

"I think it is time that you children all realize I'm not a very tolerant man!" He shouted. "Rebellion and misbehaving, to me, is punishable by death. May this all be a lesson to you children." Mr. Vanderson raised the gun and pointed it at John, who was petrified with fear.

BANG! The gunshot rang as the bullet whizzed through the air and hit John in the chest. He seemed to collapse in slow motion.

"NO!" I screamed, dropping all my tools and running to him. Tears blurred my vision as I dropped to the ground, cradling his dying body in my arms.

"I was…always the…trouble making…idiot, wasn't I?" He murmured, giving me a weak toothy grin.

"Yeah, but you were always my trouble making idiot." I sobbed. I gave him a tight hug, not caring about the blood stains. "I love you, little Johnny." I whispered.

"I lo—"Was all he could get out before his whole body shut down, and he went limp. Rain started to pour, as—

"Mr. Crepsley?" I snapped out of the memory to hear Darren's small voice. He looked really shaken by the story. "I don't know if I want to keep going. It's just, so sad…" I could see him trying to blink back tears.

I sighed. "I am sorry. Perhaps I should not continue." I had forgotten that, as mature as Darren was, he was only a child. He may not be ready for me to tell this tale.

"No." Darren suddenly said boldly. I turned back to him. "No, please continue. Just finish it." He whispered. I smiled at him and squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"I promise you, Darren, it will get easier to hear. Vanderson will get what he deserves." I said gently.

Rain started to pour, as if to mock me, and remind me of the terrible moment that had just occured. Mr. Vanderson chuckled darkly at me and my brother's body.

"You see, Mr. Crepsley, naughty children always get what they deserve." He smirked.

"Shut the bloody hell up, you filthy pig!" I snapped, venom lacing my words. He flinched. "If I have to hear another word from your damn mouth, I'll kill you." I snarled.

"Do not talk to me in that tone!" He spat. "Or I'll show you the same mercy I showed your brother."

"THAT'S IT!" I screeched, and lunged at him. He was so surprised, he dropped his gun. I landed on top of him, pounding him with my fists, sobbing with rage and horror. Without thinking clearly, I picked up his gun and shot him multiple times in the head. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! BANG!

Calming down and panting heavily, I threw the gun to the side and crawled off the bloodied body. Children laborers had seen everything, and were shaking in fear. I heard a woman gasp and murmur, and realized many villagers had heard the ruckus. I glanced around, taking in the situation now. My brother's dead body, the body of our foreman, and me, covered in both of their blood.

Two village officers slowly came up to me. "It's ok, son. We won't hurt you." And I realized that I was now a murderer, no better than any criminal that was locked up or hung.

I broke into a full run, sprinting northward through the crowd. I was not sure where I was going, but I had to get out of here. Officers and a few villagers started chasing me. Some were shooting with rifles, but I was already too far ahead. I kept running until I was sure I had lost them. Then I jogged for a while, continuing north.

I was cold, wet, starving, and lonely. Rain was pelting me heavily. Hours had passed, and I had lost the mob. I had come across an old cemetery. I did not want to go in, but I would end up killing myself if I did not. I had always been superstitious, which was the reason I was hesitant. But I could see crypts within this old graveyard, which may be the only shelter I would find for a while.

I scrambled across the graveyard, eyes low, muttering prayers as I came to the crypts. The first one was sealed shut, with no hope of opening it. The second crypt had a chain on it, and although I tried to shake it loose, it would not budge.

When I came to the third, I hesitated. It was slightly ajar, but I doubted that I would have enough strength to open it a little more. But I had to find shelter, so I grabbed the edge and pulled. It opened up so easily, I slipped and fell to the wet ground. I was afraid maybe a creature inside had pushed as I pulled, but as I peered inside, I saw nothing but darkness. I stood up, wiping away mud, and went inside.

After a few moments of adjusting to the darkness, I was able to see the crypt. The coffins rested behind stone bricks in the wall, and there was an ornamental fountain in the center, covered in cobwebs. My stomach growled and I winced, realizing how hungry I was. The only thing here was cobwebs. If I tried to eat them, they might make me sick, but what would I have to lose?

I ran my fingers down the fountain until they were covered with cobwebs, and after whirling the webbing around my fingers, I ate them. I gagged, but kept it down, and kept going. As I had finished a second finger full, a voice spoke from above the door, the one place I had not looked for monsters.

"Are cobwebs a treat where you come from?" It asked. I whirled around defensively, to see a red skinned beast, with a pale face, and long dark hair streaked with white. He smiled wickedly at me. I darted for the door; certain he would swoop down on me and rip me to pieces. But he did not move. Instead, he spoke in a sort of lonely voice that made me stop.

"I would ask you to stay awhile." I looked up, to see his face only a few inches away from mine, causing me to slam backwards into the wall, startled.

"What are you?" I gasped, terrified of the strange creature.

"Should not the question be: Who am I?" The creature said, who dropped to the floor and stood. I realized now it was human, or at least, appeared to be. Pale skin and he wore red clothes.

"Aren't you a monster?" I asked cautiously, stepping away from the wall.

The man chuckled. "I would not describe myself as one, although there are many who would." He offered his hand, which I shakily accepted. But as I shook it, it seemed that all my fear had…disappeared.

The man let go of my hand. "This crypt is my home for the night. You are more than welcome to share it with me, if you wish."

"Thank you!" I said with a smile on my lips.

"By the way, my name is Seba Nile. May I ask what is yours?" He inquired.

"I'm Larten. Larten Crepsley." I replied.

Seba smiled warmly. "I bid you welcome, Larten." And he disappeared into the shadows.

"What happened next, Mr. Crepsley?" Darren asked. I stroked my scar.

"Seba offered me the night after to become his assistant. He promised to protect me from the villagers and train me as a vampire." I sighed sadly. "But none of it would have happened had John lived."

Darren grew awfully quiet as we headed back to our rooms. Suddenly, he stopped in front of me, and hugged me. As he pulled away, I saw tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Crepsley. I'm sure it hurts to think about it. I should have never asked." He whispered. I felt guilty for making the boy feel guilty. I kneeled down to his level, unsure what to do. So I went with my instinct, and I hugged him back.

"Yes, it does hurt, but it only started to hurt after you came along. Do you know why?" I asked him. He shook his head. "It is because you remind me of him every day. You never do as I say, you get yourself into loads of trouble, and…you love life the way he did. I feel like I am being given a second chance in looking after John, if I look after you." I said gently.

We continued on until we reached Darren's room. As I was turning to leave, Darren tapped my shoulder, and I turned around.

Darren sniffed and looked up at me. "So, you're calling me a trouble making idiot?"

I laughed. "Yes, Darren, but you are my trouble making idiot."

Ok, this is the synopsis:

Before Cirque Du Freak...

Before the war with the vampaneze...

Before he was a vampire.

Larten Crepsley was a boy.

As a child laborer many centuries ago, Larten Crepsley did his job well and without complaint, until the day the foreman killed his brother as an example to the other children.

In that moment, young Larten flies into a rage that the foreman wouldn't survive. Forced on the run, he sleeps in crypts and eats cobwebs to get by. And when a vampire named Seba offers him protection and training as a vampire's assistant, Larten takes it.

This is his story.

Please enjoy and review!