Thirst is my predominant thought at this time, I'm not sure how long I've been in this place, but its been long enough for me weaken and feel the burning in my throat. What bothers me the most is the heaviness in my neck, the discomfort is enough to prompt me to try and observe my situation. It's dark, damp, and cold. As I look in the darkness, as my eyes adjust, I can see my breath and some of the brighter parts of the walls. It occurs to me, that my tongue has been resting on the roof my mouth, I'm barely able to grasp my position in the world, weightlessness is turning into stress, my mind fades in and out as i try to make sense of this simple thought, yet when I arrive to my conclusion, it is torn from me in so little time that I can't grasp its meaning.
Not long after this losing battle, I give into fatigue, and let my mind and body rest. As I lightly sleep, I hear the sound of drops of water, and a scratching sound on the walls around me, and sometimes right next to me. where the walls are exactly, as far as I can tell from the sounds around me, they have to be at least thirty feet away. I dream of prison and my incarceration, of my family and my friends, as well as distant, trivial memories. My husband's embrace, my daughter's bright, hopeful smile, and my father's bearlike strength. I miss them all dearly.
I snap to my senses at the sound of scratching on the walls, louder and faster this time. It sounds like my dog, scratching at my door to leave my room. It's coming from behind me, and slightly to the right. The sounds are so fast, so furious, that I start to move despite the pain lingering in my body. Its only now that I realize how well my eyes had adjusted. The walls are a deep dark blue with black patches on them, I look to the ceiling and I see a body. It is thin, and gray, I wonder why this body is on the roof, finally the thought clicks, I realize that I'm upside down.
The scratching has not stopped, but has slowed gradually over time. It has only been a minute at most, although it feels as if a lifetime has passed. My new sight, the gravity pressing my body into my neck, and the frantic scratching have taken a toll on my mind. I begin to cry, letting out soft whimpers and a stream of tears. I can not wipe my face, my arms are bound and now throbbing again with pain. I am bound, dehydrated, hungry, scared, and weeping heavily, I believe I weep now because I am to week to panic in any other way.
Once again I drift into a loose sleep and again, the scratching walls are drowned out by images of my family and my past. Only through these dreams can I maintain my sanity. I open my eyes for the third time and glance again at the walls, brighter now but still a dark blue. The black patches move sometimes, very slightly, making a soft scratching sound as they do so. I look at the floor, knowing what it is now, and the body still lying there. I know this man but only by his blue armor, I can't figure out a name, nor can I picture his face just yet.
I lie in silence before my heart starts to throb and I become unable to scream. I see the blackness on the walls rush and scurry, knowing I can not trust my eyes just yet I shut them tight and listen to the rhythmic scratching, it is quick and purposeful. I begin to panic once again and try to squirm to no avail, I am bound tightly and my captors are not as lazy as the guard who arrested me, there is no escape this time.
I feel pressure on my skin, as if several children are running their fists against my body from outside of a burlap sack. Ten, maybe twenty little fists running on my body as fast as they can. I look around, and I almost miss it, I almost miss what I had been to sick and week to comprehend. We had never made it to the surface, and the culprit had been watching me for what I can assume to be days. A man sized, 8 legged beast lies slightly to my left, close enough to see but far away enough to be in full view. Its several eyes and giant fangs water when it takes notice that I am now panicking. As my vision focus, I can see the beasts offspring move from its back and onto the dark blue web to close in on me. The longer they stream onto the net the more fists I feel around my body. I begin to struggle as fear turns into panic and the will to live. The first bite is excruciating, it prices deeply, at least an inch, and burns like hot coals inside of my skin. Again and again this happens, I loose count at 7 and the pain takes over. I scream, and I cry, and I squirm and I kick but nothing helps. I can not see my body, only the giant spider and the body of the dead man on the floor. I beg the gods and I pray for my family.
In my frantic, and useless, display of my desire to live, I managed to get one the babys in between my teeth and chomp it in half. The taste is bitter and foul, but it is a sign that I still live. A loud hiss after my only kill was followed by a breeze, and a massive pressure in my abdomen. The mother had finally come to finish me, “thank you” I whispered with the last my breath. I was not dead, but I was numb as the babys devoured my body and drained me of life. I looked down one last time and remembered the words of the Storm Cloak Rebel, Rolof, who had said to me after the dragon had drove us from Helgen Keep into this cave. he lay beneath me now, his words remindeing me, "A Nords last thoughts, should be of home."