Linus saw the mans hands were bleeding, from the abrasions. He lay his shin across the man’s forearm and held the spike with the wooden washer poised above his wrist. Placed the tip, just so. Drive it here and the bones will hold it in place. The hammer fell with force, the man screamed. The man’s thumb involuntarily flexed and pressed against his own palm. Each strike of the hammer, driving the spike past the flesh and deeper into the olive wood beam.
Linus moved to the other arm and tried to hold it flat against the wood. Felix, standing behind him, spat on the ground.
“That ain’t how it’s done,” said Felix.
“This isn’t my first.”
“Lemme show you”.
Felix took a length of rope and made a loop he placed on the mans hand. Pulling back he stretched the man out, straining against his pierced wrist. You could hear the man’s shoulder pop as it dislocated. A groan escaped his lips, and Linus Placed the next spike on the man’s wrist. He raised the hammer and struck the second nail into Yeshua, the Nazarene.