9.
Morning. I’m thirsty. Do I get a drink? Jesus got one. God, it was cold last night. Shivering made the pain of the nails much worse. I wonder if I’ve lost much blood, can’t see any, but that collar thing round my wrist has tubes attached, to suck the blood away. It’s Ok to see a girl naked, covered in God-knows-what, obviously in severe pain, but you can’t show blood, it might scare the children. I guess that’s why they don’t want a virgin suffering this. Can’t see my feet, tits in the way. Never used to call them tits, always said breasts, crucifixion must do strange things to your mind.
Cross coming down, must be breakfast!!
Collegekids crossing the square, having a good look at me. One or two finger me, several more weigh my tits, practical biology class, glad to help.
Small squeezy bottle put to my lips, water I think though a bit sweet, I drink it all. “Do I get anything else?”
The cross goes back up, my question unanswered.
A little winged thing tickles my nose, I sneeze. Snot hangs down past my chin, I shake my head to try to dislodge it, all that happens is it clings to my lips. I try to blow it away but it gets inside my mouth. I lick my lips and heave. Plenty of flies on my cunt now. Yes, it’s not a pussy anymore either. For the love of God, just give me a free hand for ten seconds, drive the buggers away. I jerk my hips to try to scare them “She’s enjoying herself” I hear shouted from down below. If only they knew. I think about shouting back to them, but what’s the point? Nothing matters except the pain. And the flies.
The cross comes down. A posh-looking family are at the foot, looking up at me. Oh God, it’s the fish owners. They have a couple of picnic coolers with them. Going to have a meal in front of me, are you?
Lots of words of a derogatory nature from the posh adults, I let them wash over me: stupid cunt, fucking idiot, 48hours too good for you, servitude for life; plenty of crap like that.
A cooler is opened and a necklace of rotting fish taken out, placed round my neck, the stench is awful, I heave and a bit of vomit comes up, dribbles down my tits, drops out of sight. “The fish you killed”. I guessed as much. “Now we have a special one for you”, and he opens the second cooler, wisps of vapour come out, a frozen fish is removed. She holds some webbing, joined together. What the hell? The cross is raised till my cunt is at their shoulder level, and he starts playing with it. Then he pushes the fish against my hole “Hard frozen, the fins should dig in nicely” Damn and blast it, that hurts. She straps the webbing round my waist and between my legs, trapping it there. “It’ll start to ferment when thawed, should be an interesting feeling”.
The cross is raised. I vomit again from the fish necklace. I feel some of the vomit running down my legs, getting into the clamp thing that holds my nailed feet. Jam, shit, vomit, fish. A gourmet meal for the flies. At least the webbing pads the seat a little, though the pressure makes the fish move, bones stick in where fish bones shouldn’t go.
Another evening of louts from the pubs. Girls seem more prepared to get their hands on me than the lads, maybe they’re more used to shitty nappies, so my smell doesn’t put them off. Thankfully with the fish locked in my cunt I can’t be raped again. Doesn’t stop some wanker from coming all over me though.
The ants have found me now. Jam, shit, vomit, fish, cum. Once more, all I can think about is getting one hand free for a minute to get rid of the damn things.
Haven’t seen Peter today.
(tbc)