The Cross' Place

The Romans.
Mighty. Powerful. Ruthless.
They did not tolerate rebels.
They developed methods of torture. The worst kind.
Their enemies and conquered "friends" trembled when they learned.
To hang a man.
Not from the neck, no. Too fast. Too clean. Too easy.
No. A slow death. By the hands.
To drive metal or wood stakes through the wrists.
The arms spread wide to bear the weight of the body.
To suffocate. Slowly.
Your lungs scream for air
but to breathe you have to pull yourself up.
Try to pull up on the only thing holding you in the air -
a giant nail or splinter going through your hands.
Then you'll think the pain in your lungs isn't so bad as you first thought.
To hang from a beam like that.
A slow death. The worst kind.
The Romans knew.
They killed hundreds that way
and left the crosses after the sufferers had long died.
They littered the lands with them.
The cross was a symbol of death.
There. In the street.
A Man carrying a cross on his back.
He knows. It is meant for him.
Forced to carry the precursor to your death? Horrifying.
But that was the way the Romans did it.
Broke you long before they even put you on it.
What a way to die.