Part of the Havok’Ra stand alone series
Seven days. Seven days without Skooma and all I know is I wish I were dead. That’s just the withdrawal talking right…right? Sometime in Morningstar I told Zora to watch my hideout in Falkreath the Bannermist tower. Despite her protests, Iona is now bodyguard for my beloved wife Veralane in Riften. I have secluded myself in a small shack in the mountains south of Riften.
This crippling addiction is my one weakness my one flaw. My master plan is to simply stay inside this shack until I no longer want Skooma.
It feels like years since I enjoyed a drop of Skooma. I just want life to feel like it’s worth living just for a moment. I’m trying to keep it together and I’m trying not to lose my mind. There is just one problem.
The noise problem. Ever since I locked myself in this shack I am plagued by a noise.
I sit alone naked in a cold sweat as my heart beats wildly. I am manic but I am exhausted. My once bright emerald green scales now look pale and muddy. I lay on a bed of furs and wood. I don’t even remember how to move to without Skooma in my system pushing me along. The noise persists and gets louder like a screeching hagraven in my head. It feels like a pressure is building inside my skull and pushing out like some kind of demon wishes to escape me and scratch and crawl his way out of my mortal shell.
I clutch fistfuls of the dirty furs tightly and close my eyes trying to will away the sound. I try and focus on anything but here anything but this moment. Suddenly I’m back home in Lilmoth, Black Marsh. I’m at the end of the long gilded oak table in my fathers manor. I’m twelve years old sitting in a chair twice my size. At the other end of the table sits my father a colossal brute of an argonian. His crimson scales contrast with his bright yellow eyes.
My father sits at the table fists clenched ontop the table. An elderly female dunmer maid sits a silver chalice of ale in front of my father. His large frame is clad in the gold armor of an An-Xileel general. My mother a small argonian alchemist with emerald green scales and silver eyes. She always carried herself with grace and kindness. My mother sits next to my father averting her gaze from either of us.
My father stares at me with hatred in his eyes. The long oak table gets longer and longer every second pushing me away from my parents. I just want my mother to look at me to acknowledge me and forgive me. I know what I did was wrong it was a terrible thing to do and I know I shouldn’t have done it. Why won’t she look at me why won’t she forgive me?
My mother begins to weep as I am pushed further and further away. I begin to panic and crawl onto the table when the table bursts through the wall behind me sending my chair tumbling down the mountainside into the unforgiving violent ocean below. I quickly glance down and see the ocean is now a violent torrent filled ocean of blood. I lay on my stomach spread out onto the smooth oak table with gilded edges. My tail whips wildly as my claws desperately try and dig into the wood. I press my face into the table trying to grip the edges so as not to fall into the crimson ocean.
The sound. I hear the sound and the table explodes into chips of wood and thin golden pieces of shrapnel. I cry out for help as I fall into the ocean of blood. I wake up in the cabin on the dirty furs clutching my head in agony as the sound increases dramatically in volume. I jump out of bed onto my feet. My weak legs give way and I fall to the ground onto my stomach.
I scramble across the ground and climb up a bookshelf only to knock it over shattering the glasses and bottles it held in an attempt to silence the noise. I lean against the wall and slide to the ground in a pathetic attempt to stand. I begin to quietly weep in desperation. I’m trying to keep it together I’m trying not to lose my mind. I’ve been living like this for ten years now.
There are moments where everything just collapses where this empire of me I’ve built up in my mind just falls apart and I’ve realized maybe I’m not built on a solid foundation. I’m filled with a lifetime worth of anxieties and nervousness. This anger this frustration inside me just unleashes. I look down on the dirty floor of broken bottles and tossed books and see a familiar green bottle.
WHO GAVE ME THIS? WHO GAVE ME THIS ADDICTION? WHO DID THIS TO ME? I grab the bottle and throw it at the wall shattering it. The noise remains.
Somebody needs to take responsibility for my suffering for my pain. Someone did this to me and I’m going to find out who. This is a conspiracy a conspiracy to keep me down. I’ve been in this cold cabin for seven days now enduring cold sweats and THE NOISE. Will this noise ever cease?!
I just have to ride this out I just need to weather this storm. The cold sweat the unbearable chills. The noise. Keep it together Havok, you’re not going to die. You have a wife! You have a good thing going here with this new Empire job. Things are improving I’m moving up in the world.
I let out a manic laugh. I can’t help but laugh at how pathetic and fragile I am.
Look how temporary and finite life is. Look at how easily you can be marginalized and destroyed when others conspire against you. My heart could just stop beating right now. What difference would it make? My vision fades and gives way to blackness. The noise is gone.