The Seventeen Moments of He and She
Moment Nine - The Scream
He stood up, brushed himself off, and stepped away for a few moments to collect himself. The pit in his stomach had grown like a cancer, metastasizing to his very soul, the very essence of his being. He wanted to let her lie there a bit, give her time to dread the next step so much that it would give her pause about continuing. This would be his last chance to offer her an exit from the whole plan. Surely, once she saw the hammer and nails, she would come to her senses and accept his offer to stop, surely, she would do that… That possibility was the only thing keeping him together at the time.
She was frightened beyond her wildest imagination, enveloped in a cocoon of absolute terror and dread, knowing what was about to happen. She had regained her breath now, recovered from when he slapped the wind out of her. Still, even with regaining her breath there was no calming effect, quite the opposite. She could feel her heart racing as she hyperventilated, lifting her had she could see her sweat-drenched chest rising and falling rapidly, her breasts quivering as they followed her chest. Her nipples betrayed her, hard as pebbles though she certainly did not feel turned on by her situation - she was humiliated imagining what the guards thought of her display....
For their part the guards stood at attention in their original position, just as he had instructed. Though she was naked, exposed, and completely vulnerable to them while he was offsite for a moment, they maintained their promise of not violating her.
She had gradually stopped pleading during this brief respite, transitioning to both sobbing and praying at the same time. She laid her against the wood and looked up at the cloudless blue sky. She prayed that God would accept her ultimate act of atonement and welcome her into His Kingdom above. In the minute or two it took for him to compose himself she found a brief, fleeting feeling of peace.
His return shattered that feeling as she saw the hammer in one hand with the nails in the other. “NO, NO, NO, OH GOD NO!” Her eyes were bulging in sheer terror, straining against the ropes, trying to escape her fate. “Please, I beg you, please, please, please... don’t nail me, please don’t nail me, OH GOD, GOD, GOD, THEY WANT TO CRUCIFY ME, NO...! PLEASE...! STOP! STOP! NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”
They had discussed this a hundred times: no matter how much she begged and pleaded for her life he was to continue with her execution, just as it would have happened in ancient times. She was still “in character” but the terror she was expressing was real. Her crucifixion was moments away, she was absolutely horrified, trembling with fear along her entire body.
He was horrified too. Kneeling in front of her, he reached for one of the grotesque nails laying in front of him with his trembling left hand. She gasped, her entire face frozen in a silent scream. He probed her wrist with his right hand, eventually finding the proper point of entry. Using his left hand, he positioned the nail and reached for the hammer with his right: both hands were noticeably shaking now, his mind on fire with doubt and regret. She began begging him to stop, incessantly, over and over, almost as if her mouth was moving on its own, detached from her brain.
The moment had arrived, he could clearly feel it... “HEY, HEY, STOP. STOP TALKING!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME... LOOK. AT. ME..... STOP SCREAMING FOR ONE FUCKING SECOND!!!!”
She didn’t hear him at first, it took a few seconds for her panic-stricken brain to register his voice... she slowed down, only her heavy breathing making a sound. Her body drenched in sweat and her eyes awash with tears. He had a short window to make his case.
Staring into her eyes he emphatically stated his feelings for her: “LISTEN.... LISTEN. TO. ME.... I LOVE YOU...! I LOVE YOU...! AS I HAVE LOVED NO OTHER... I. LOVE. YOU!!!”
She returned his gaze.
“I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS...! YOU DON’T NEED TO DIE ON THIS FUCKING CROSS!!!! YOU CAN STOP NOW…”
She began crying again. This was off-script, and she wasn’t prepared for it. Her head shook back and forth as if silently saying no, no, no.
A shroud of quietude came over the entire site, sunlight streaming through the rough pine branches.
He reasoned with her now, softening his tone: “Please, you’ve got to listen to me… PLEASE! You’ve gone far enough… It’s ok, it’s ok, it’s ok… God will understand!!!! We can build a life together that will make it all right, everything will be all right!”
She looked at her outstretched arms, ready for the nails, while still taking in every word, every nuance of sight and sound from him. Yet she said nothing.
He pleaded: “DON’T. MAKE. ME. DO. THIS… WE SHOULD BE TOGETHER!!!! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!”
Her head turned to the side, eyes wet with tears. She was so sorry for everything… everything about her life... everything about the horrible sin that brought them together in the first place… everything she was making him feel right now… everything…
He begged: “PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE… DON’T MAKE ME DO THIS!!!
He was emotionally exhausted, spent, desperate. Telling her his true feelings made him feel as vulnerable as she was: he had borne his soul to her, laying everything on the line. It was up to her to choose. She chose him once before, he prayed for her to choose him again.
She looked up at him again through her tear-filled eyes. He was emotionally suffering as much as she was... his pain was as real as hers, and she was causing it. She didn’t expect to feel guilt as one of her emotions, lying on her cross awaiting the first nail.
In a split second her life flashed before her eyes. Memories of her childhood, her parents, her siblings. Memories of her sinful decision and its aftermath, how it haunted her. Memories of loves gained and lost, memories of distant family, friends, all of whom had come and gone over the years. Memories of him, his kindness, his ability to listen without judgment. Memories of their passion together, extreme pleasure given to each for each other. Memories of the crucifix still hanging to her neck just above her breasts and what it represented in her life, how important her faith was to her very existence... God had always guided her in every decision but one… she needed His Guidance now more than ever.
She locked eyes with him for a moment, a sustained, intense moment frozen in time, motionless, absolute stillness enveloping their entire world; then, suddenly, she seemed to be looking through him as if she was addressing someone else: “PLEASE, OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD.... NO, PLEASE DON’T NAIL ME!!! PLEASE, PLEASE, HAVE MERCY, I BEG YOU, NOOOOOOOO!!!!!”
He snapped, right in that moment. One could see it etched in his face. All hope lost, a tidal wave of emotions overwhelmed his brain, destroying all rational thought, all feeling, all boundaries of typical human behavior.
He lifted his hammer high and with the brute force of a thousand shattered souls he crashed it squarely on the nail head with the full weight of his body, cleanly passing through her wrist and plunging deep into the wood. Her scream was banshee-like, deafening... worse than a most gravely wounded animal. His scream was equally intense, snarling, roaring like a lion right in her face. Both of them were in utter agony, hers was physical, his was emotional. Two more strikes followed: the first nail was secured.
Quickly, he grabbed another nail, crawled over to the other arm, and got in position. Even though she was straining like mad against the ropes while screeching at the top of her lungs, he still found the spot to drive the nail through the right wrist and into the wood.
He was a different person now, completely without emotion, absolutely numb, indifferent to her struggles, and lacking the least bit of empathy in any sense. The Cross was breaking him just as it was breaking her.
Without hesitation, he held the second nail in position, this time with a steady hand. Her pleas and begging were like a distant voice far off in the background of his consciousness. He lifted the hammer high, then brought it down with a force even greater than the first, roaring like a man in hand-to-hand combat. Once again, the nail completely pierced her wrist, finding its way deep into the wood. She howled a deathly howl, lifting her torso in an arch, completely off the wood, holding it there, quivering, trembling for untold seconds before crashing back down on the wood.
Two more strikes and it was done. In less than two minutes he went from confessing his eternal love for her to brutally driving two nails through her wrists into a cross beam, with about the same remorse as he would hang a picture frame in his home.
He stood up and looked at her: he had made her one with the cross, permanently attached until her death. The agony etched on her face and embedded in her mournful cries was awful to the guards, but not to him anymore... he had crossed a personal line of behavior. He was a different man, awash in uncharted emotional territory. He looked at her bound feet with a look of hunger, wild desire in his eyes.
