The moment was here. I held the long nail on top of Camille's hand, her fingers touching my hand.

Her fingers closed on my hand as she felt the tip of the nail in the center of her palm. She was still just laying with her eyes closed, aware of what was about to happen but not knowing exactly how it would feel.

Her anticipation was hidden to me since my eyes were now focus on the head of the nail for that precise first blow of the hammer.

I raised the hammer slowly, to gather the strength for a swift first hit on the nail, and not my fingers. As I pressed the nail further on Camille's hand, her grip on my hand got stronger.

I went for it. The hammer struck the nail with an echo that was pierced by a guttural scream that rose from the depths of Camille's pain.

The young woman's face was one of pain and surprise, her eyes were rolling back as her body struggled between the reaction to the pain and escaping from it.

The growing crowd of onlookers were silent, so were the soldiers who stood watching as their comrades in arms nailed the woman to the log.

Her body was raising and falling with every stroke of the hammer, her chained wrists were bleeding as the chain cut her skin when Leticia shook violently in pain, raising her head as high as her bonds allowed her.

Two soldiers had to grab her legs down, while her body whipped the ground in spasmodic jumps.

The soldier still avoided the piercing look of pain of the poor victim, he was finding the task of breaking through the wood more difficult than he thought. He had to hit harder and faster to get the metal through the timber, each blow crushing the woman's bones and tender, broken flesh. The blood was spraying up and to the sides, bathing his hands and face.

The screams rose to the hanging servant's ears who forced herself to open her heavy eyes and see how her mistress was being crucified.

The servant tried to scream out in anger and pain, but her mouth was too dry and her tongue was swollen almost blocking the passing of air to her lungs. She shook her head instead as if trying to say NO!

I felt the wetness rising up my hand, making the task of holding the nail harder as my grasp began to slip down the metal.

But the blows to the hammer were steady and direct, never hitting my hand or hers.

Camille shook differently with each pound of the hammer, the wood moving beneath her, pulling her arms since only one part of the wood was held in place by the weight of my body pressing her nailed hand.

She had far more resistance than anticipated and the scourging did not diminish her strength.

There was a moment when resistance to pain crossed a threshold, once past that moment suffering could be prolonged and this was happening with Leticia. Her eyes were bulging out, her look was not only one of anguish and unbearable pain but also of dumbfoundness.

Her mind in the border of insanity no longer wishing to plead for mercy. Flashes of her experience were rushing through her head, each lasting the brief nona seconds between the strokes of the hammer.

She saw a few crucifixions, and she always tried to avoid attending one. But more than once she was forced to witness an execution and had to see the suffering of the condemned, never imagining that one day she would be in their position.