Journal of Leviticus Bekhit: 9/3/2012
Around 6 AM today she woke up coughing and sweating. She said she would be fine, and went to work like usual, but I worried all day. Dad was gone, as usual, so I was alone all day just worrying. It’s been three weeks since the bastard’s shown up back home. It’s like he doesn’t even care about us. Last time he was home he stopped in for dinner and then as soon as Mom and I went to bed he was gone again. I just don
Mom was calling for water. Had to run and get it for her. She’s not doing well at all. Won’t let me call for a doctor, says we don’t have the money. I’ll probably call 911 before the night is out, but I don’t know. I can’t lose her. She’s getting delirious. She kept muttering about “The Memories!” Then something about Rats, before she lost consciousness again. She doesn’t want me to call a doctor, but I still have Dad’s number. I don’t want to call him, but I will if I have to.
Going to bed. Will write more tomorrow If able.
Journal of Leviticus Bekhit: 9/4/2012
Mom’s not getting any better. I skipped class today to take care of her. I didn’t have any choice. She’s still feverish. The Muttering’s stopped for the most part. I found a doctor online and called her. I told her Mom couldn’t come into the office because we didn’t have the money and she said she could have something arranged, but until then, I should keep her hydrated and she’d let me know if she could set up a visit. She sounded real sarcastic. I wanted to come through the phone at her, but just in case, I kept polite. At least until Mom can get help.
Journal of Leviticus Bekhit: 9/9/2012
I called Dad this morning. He didn’t pick up when I called, but he called back in about an hour. I could hear voices in the background that sounded happy and raucous. It made me so angry that while Mom was here suffering and feverish he could be out partying. I kept a hold on my temper though. Couldn’t get angry with Mom so close, didn’t want to be yelling. I haven’t been to school all this week, probably won’t until Mom gets better. I can’t concentrate anyway.
When I was changing Mom’s bedding today, I found a bite on her left hand. I guess that’s probably what’s causing this fever. Don’t know though. Could have been something in the apartment since she’s been sick. I won’t let it happen again though. I’ve been staying in her room at night. Keeping watch. Still no return call from the doctor.
Oh, Dad said he’s on his way. He did sound worried, but he didn’t know how long it would take him to get back. He better get back soon. I can’t handle this on my own. It’s too much. Mom’s been muttering again. I’m gonna have to call 911 if nothing changes tonight. I’ll write more tomorrow maybe.
Journal of Leviticus Bekhit: 9/11/2012
Mom Died last night.
Journal of Leviticus Bekhit: 9/12/2012
a Newspaper clipping is attached inside. It is an obituary
Born 4:55 AM April 30, 1974, Died 20:15 September 10, 2012. Angela took ill on September 4, and was unable to recover. She was 35 years old and is survived by her Husband Garai Bekhit and her son Levi Bekhit.
That’s her Obituary. That one paragraph, no just three sentences, is all that they could do to sum up her life.
I called 911 the morning of the 10th because she had a seizure. I didn’t know what to do, so I held her hand until the Ambulance got here. Apparently she didn’t make it to the Hospital. She was pronounced dead on Arrival. I wish I could have ridden with her. The last words that I’d said to my mother had been almost a week before she died the night she got home from work when sick.
This morning they sent us an ambulance bill. In the return envelope I sent a dead mouse and a note card with “FUCK YOU” written on it in Sharpie.
Dad’s still not back yet. This whole thing is his fault. I’m afraid of what I’ll do when I see him. Still waiting…
Journal of Leviticus Bekhit: 9/13/2012
I got Mom’s ashes in the mail this morning from the Hospital. I put them into her favorite vase. I wasn’t sure what else to do, so I left her on the Mantle. I made up a tiny tombstone. It’s stupid I know, but it helped me. I’ve been alone for 3 full days now. Dad said he’d be back in a week or so. I’m expecting him any day now. He doesn’t know.
Found out they turned off the water today. Mom Must’ve forgotten to pay the bill. It doesn’t matter; I’m only staying here until Dad gets back. I’ll figure things out from there. Got a few friends I can stay with for awhile, and the owner of the grocery that Mom worked for said I could have a job when I got old enough a year or so ago. Hopefully he’ll give me one still. Otherwise I’ll figure something else out. Well, I haven’t slept in 3 days, but I think I’m finally gonna pass out from exhaustion. I’ll write again as soon as I can.
Journal of Leviticus Bekhit: 9/14/2012
I’m still waiting. Just woke up though. I slept for almost 24 hours. Got a few dollars in a cup in the kitchen. Gonna go buy water and some dinner.
Found more in the cup than I thought I would. Grabbed some groceries for the rest of the week and a few gallons of water. I guess Mom has been putting her spare change in there. Or had been I suppose. Just one more thing I can’t thank her for.
I still can’t quite process that she’s gone. I feel so alone. I haven’t communicated other than in this journal for almost 5 days now. I don’t want to leave for too long because I have to be here when my dad gets here. Lease on the apartment is supposed to be up at the end of the month. Landlord hated us anyway, he’ll probably have the police in here exactly on the 30th. They’re all bastards.
If Dad doesn’t show up before I have to get out of here I’m gonna wait for him. In the Alley outside probably. Somewhere I can get a good view of him approaching.
Journal of Leviticus Bekhit: 9/16/2012
Journal of Leviticus Bekhit: 9/24/2012
Dad’s still not arrived. I’m gonna put off writing for now. All I can think of is my anger. I don’t just want to write the same thoughts over and over again in here.
Journal of Leviticus Bekhit: 9/25/2012
I changed my mind. Writing in here helps me calm down and center my thoughts. I almost kicked a hole in the wall today I got so mad. It’s kinda funny if you thi
Journal of Leviticus Bekhit: 10/8/2012
Dad showed up as I was writing on the 25th. I think he tried to kill me, but I can’t remember…
I know it was quiet at first, as he walked in to find the house empty except for me. I think he realized that he had missed her. I remember him crumpling to the floor with his hands on his face. He might have been crying. I stood up from where I was and I started shouting at him. That’s where i stop remembering.
There’s just Red, and then black.
I woke up what must have been hours later on a bench in Central Park. I almost had a heart attack when I first opened my eyes, as an old warty witch-face took up my field of vision. I didn’t move though. She had the look in her eyes that bespoke the kind of old lady that wouldn’t take kindly to those who didn’t do exactly as she said. Not that I was afraid of her, just wary. I wasn’t sure of what she was capable, and I knew from the mind-numbing pain in my chest that I was either very seriously wounded, or was having a heart attack. I looked down at my body and saw that what bare skin I could see was covered in long cuts, and that my chest had a massive slash across it from shoulder to hip. The old woman said something and I blacked out again.
I woke up several hours later. I was laid up on a sleeping bag somewhere. It was dark, and there appeared to be a concrete and earthen ceiling above me. I was alone, and the first thing I checked was my wounds. Everything had been healed up. The only mark on me was a massive scar where the slash had been. My first thought was that it must have been months since I was last conscious. I sat up. A newspaper and a battered ti cup of water were next to my sleeping bag. This journal too as it turns out. A note was scrawled in tiny sharp letters in the newspaper. It read, “Thought you might like some reading material in case you woke up before I returned. -ML”
I checked the newspaper and was stunned to discover that it was only October 8th, 2012. So that’s where I am. Less than 2 weeks after I was sliced open, I’m fully-healed, (albeit with a massive scar), in some cave in Central Park. Probably.
Journal of Leviticus Bekhit: 10/13/2012
So I guess I’m a werewolf.
Or a Garou, as we supposedly call ourselves. Apparently what I experienced on the night of my father’s return was my First Change.
I’ve been slowly regaining memory from that night, and given the new information that I’ve been provided with I think I’ve figured out what’s happened.
My Dad arrived home and saw me. I started to get angry then, but I just stared at him, filthy from not bathing. He glanced left and then right frantically down each wall of our apartment. Looking into my eyes with deep despair in his, he sank to the floor. I stood then, enraged that he could be so pathetic. It was insulting! I yelled at him everything that had been seething in my heart the past weeks. He had no right to grieve! He’d left us! She’d died because he couldn’t be here! His roaming was more important than we were! I clenched my fists so hard that my nails drew blood from my palms. I shouted wordlessly. I think at this point
because I still don’t remember precisely, but from what I’ve been told it makes sense I turned into a big angry wolf-monster. I leapt at him claws and teeth bared to tear his throat open.
What I met, I imagine, was the equally bared teeth and claws of a much older and more experienced Garou. He backhanded me with a massive taloned hand that cut deeply as it impacted. The impact tossed me across the room and my Father drew some sort of blade from his belt. I got up and charged him, even more furious now, my lips foaming with battle-rage. He swiftly sliced across my chest, opening my ribcage to the air. I felt my flesh begin to knit itself back together even as I fell to the floor. I stood again, now howling in rage at my father. I charged again, this time my claws connected. I had overextended though, and the knife was rammed up to the hilt in my sternum. My father, snarling in my face threw me out the plate-glass window of the apartment. Before my consciousness faded entirely, I remember looking back and seeing him, a man again, the look in his eyes showing the deepest black sorrow.
So that’s it then. The rest is basically song and dance. I’m some sort of warrior protector now. Don’t have e slightest clue what that means, but at least I’m done with school. I think. I should probably double-check that.
I don’t know when next I’m gonna be able to write. People have been saying something about Rites of Passage and some shit, so I imagine I’ll be busy from now on. But thanks Journal, you’ve been great. You helped me get through all this shit.
Journal of Leviticus Bekhit: 8/16/2013
So, I am continuing this journal until further notice. It seems like a great way to keep my thoughts in order.
Being a werewolf is not all it’s cracked up to be.
Or perhaps it is exactly what it is cracked up to be.
Let me start at the beginning. So there we were (to use a cliche), sitting in a balmy warehouse when Mother Larissa bursts in. She put us down for a little bit, and then sent us off to the central Park wilderness of the Ramble or scramble… Bramble? Whichever, she sent us into the forest. Things started off uneventfully enough, we walked aimlessly through woods for a bit until a be-suited, Delirious gentleman burst into the clearing.
He was quickly followed by a quintet of angry Hispo garou. Defending those beneath us, we engaged the group. Unfortunately, we were forced to kill the other garou. They attacked immediately with intent to kill, not even concentrating on their quarry, but on killing us. The fight was over very quickly. There was much blood and rending of flesh. I nearly had my own spine torn out. At the conclusion of the fight, a massive shadow swooped out of the sky, and with a whippoorwill howl grabbed up the suited man and swooped back into the sky.
My father killed it. He showed up, out of nowhere. It took all my self control to restrain my urge to attack him. But I did, even allowing his haughty holier than thou comments.
Another tribe member of higher station found us. The garou we’d killed were the pups sent from the sept of the Winter Wolf, and had been corrupted by the Wyrm. But the wendigo didn’t know that. And we’d already sent a group of pups up north. Accolon showed himself to us and urged us to go north. Apparently, he doesn’t speak to anyone often, so Hundo Chunder called in Bumper-Biter, a Bone-Gnawer with a Van. So… Road Trip? Yeah, not liking that… You know how I’ve been with vehicles…
Oh, everyone’s back. Gotta go. I’ll update again later.
Journal of Leviticus Bekhit: 8/17/2013
Holy shit… I am so glad we’re done for the day.
After nearly dying of acute motion sickness, we stopped to give me a breather at some scenic turnoff. My friends stepped into the umbra, presumably to check out the view, which I was totally cool with. But soon enough, unfortunately, we were back on the road…
For about 5 minutes. We found a horrifying crash. Multiple fatalities, I didn’t know what to do. The sheriff showed up, and me and my motion sickness-addled mind couldn’t keep up, and I fear I made a fool of myself.
After we cleared everything with the sheriff, we got into town. We stopped at a diner to grab a bite, and this lady named Kayla helped us out and gave the food to us free. She reminded me of Mom.
I miss her so much. Still feels like fucking yesterday… I swear by Gaia, Luna, and the Wyld, I will pay him back for every moment that she suffered…
The ink here is smeared in places as with tears; the handwriting degenerates to illegibility.
Sorry had to go for a moment to compose myself. Where was I? The diner, right.
Okay, so a pair of biker assholes came in halfway through our meal, made fools of themselves by hitting each other, and left the bar under threat of shotgun. Then, out of the kindness of her heart, Kayla offered us a free cabin stay over night. Which is where we are now, just settling down. Sure is shaping up to be a relaxing evening.
Journal of Leviticus Bekhit: 8/18/2013
Holy shit, where do I begin. So, almost immediately after I stopped writing last night, all hell broke loose. A gunshot rang out through the forest, and We dispersed to check it out. Kaiden and the Theurge went into the Umbra to check things out from there, and I checked the back porch. A hunter had run up to the door, and was babbling that “something was coming.” Then, out of the forest streaked a shark-toothed mangy-looking horror from the deepest nightmares. It moved up to the hunter before I could even blink and was chowing down on his arm in seconds.
I froze, for only a moment, and reached for the rage. I released it and went straight to Crinos without hesitation. From behind me leapt Oskar, and Stephen charged in too. Together we tore the thing to pieces. I immediately ran back to check on the hunter.
He wasn’t doing well. He’d more or less already bled out. I knew I was too late. I don’t really remember what happened after that. It’s all haze.
Next I remember I was huddled against the couch, covered in blood, and the hunter was dead.
Looking at him, I could see black veins moving up his arms. We’d prevented the curse from spreading on him entirely.
From there, after a frantic sequence of events we came across a seriously wyrm-tainted shack. I went to the real world from the Umbra to perform a bit of recon. The shack was basically 5 pieces of cardboard attached to each other. The creatures inside, more tainted humans, saw me a screeched. Panicking, I went back to the Umbra and signaled the attack. In a haze of blood and gore we finished every last one of the monsters. And took back Lyla’s apparently missing parts. A spirit emerged from the wreckage of the shack after we’d cleansed it and explained some things. I was happy to have my pack mates safe. Oh, everyone’s talking again. I’ll write more later.
Journal of Leviticus Bekhit: 8/24/2013
So, where to begin? So much has happened since the last time I wrote I… I’m… Lost.
How could he do that? That’s not him! I don’t… I cant’t… He hated us, Mom and me! He was never there when we needed him! And even when he was here, he was absent, looking toward the road. Always for the next journey. They always meant more him than us, his other family, his pack. I don’t even know who they are! I doubt mom did either… Why would he do this to me!?
I’m sorry, I’m all over the place, let me explain. We were driving down the road in Lyla, having just rescued a lost pup that we had dubbed Pinecones, when we hit a spike strip. Lyla spun out and flipped and I fell unconscious for a few moments. When I came to, there were 4 vampires standing around the van and only Kaiden and I were awake. We attacked the first to charge us, nearly tearing him in half with a Wishbone maneuver. I went to finish him off, and about there things go a little hazy. I know I killed another of the four and Kaiden a third, but the details are fuzzy until suddenly there was a purple dust cloud or maybe a fog or mist of some kind surrounding us. As this happened, the fourth Vampire, some chick in crazy anime clothes, stopped suddenly as he head fell from her shoulders. It was him damnit! I realized this as we fell deeply unconscious.
What followed was a really bizarre, peaceful dream. We hunted a white stag as a pack, and each sort of found ourselves individually. It was a brief relief from the awful that preceded it.
We awoke, after what I assume was maybe five or ten minutes, fully healed. My father was standing over us. He’d saved us again.
But this time he’d fucked up and missed Lyla and Pinecones. I… I… Told him to find them and meet us at the sept of the Winter Wolf. I was angry then, now I don’t know how I feel.
We made it to the sept of the winter wolf, with only a minor delay that ended up being a turn for the best as it allowed us to gain easy access into the sept.
Then, we told them what had happened to their pups, that it had been us who had killed them. But then… Then my father spoke up for us, taking the blame in such a way that any protestations on my part would be useless… he claimed fathership. I… I don’t know what to think anymore.
The Winter Wolf Sept Elders made us perform the punishment rite. I don’t remember it, just being violently ill immediately after.
So that’s where I am. Dad’s gone now. He left again, but it was my fault… My fuck-up that forced him to leave. I don’t have any family left. And I’m finally realizing how wrong I was to blame him for what happened. It’s like the foundation of hate that I’ve built up over the past year is suddenly vanished leaving me falling. I have all this pent up anger, and nowhere to point it… But at myself.
I am lost.
My name is Leviticus Bekhit, my mother was Angela Bekhit, and my father is, and always will be Khaldoun “Races-The-Dark” Bekhit.