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Sophie’s feet were bound, and her hands were nailed to the frame of the bed, but she continued moving her lower body left and right. Each movement, although miniscule, struck her with a new wave of pain that sent her to the gates of hell and back. She hoped to get to the knife that Phil left on the bed before he and the woman returned, although, in her current situation, nothing would likely be useful. When the knife landed on the floor and the door opened, her last hope disappeared.
“We need a bigger nail for her feet and a piece of wood,” his mother instructed.
“I’ve got everything.”
At least he was not going to assault her sexually. She let relief enter her for a second. Jesus Christ, what are they going to do? Yet, she knew exactly what they were both trying to carry out. Fiona had mentioned a sacrifice, and she was right on again. They had a copycat on their hands. Fiona had talked about the case that was sixty years old where the killer managed to murder more than forty people. The murderer placed his victims on a cross after he killed them. How was it possible for someone to know about such an old case? Was it something random? The first murder victims in Queens had only had an incision, but even back then, Fiona realized that the scene appeared like a sacrifice. She was right from the start. Sophie opened her eyes to look at them. They would crucify her like Christ on the cross, and she was already halfway nailed.
Phil’s mother set Sophie’s feet, holding them one on top of the other as she waited for Phil to hammer the nail down as though it was not human flesh. I’m not a wall chosen to hold a piece of art, Sophie wanted to scream.
“Come on. The task must be done now. So, is she the near and dear in your heart?”
“Yes, she is the one.”
“Good thing it’s not your own mother. I wouldn’t want to be in her position.”
The hammer hit the nail at the exact moment Sophie was ready to accept the feeling, idea, theory that was buzzing in her brain about Fiona. The penetration of steel into her skin wiped her mind completely clean. She traveled once again to the unknown.
Phil finished his assignment, and his mother glowed with appreciation of his execution of the command she had set in motion. Then, she handed him the scalpel for the incision from the belly button to the chin. She had to be killed. Was the code able to rise above all, or would love intervene? Andrea doubted that feelings could be greater than the command, and when her son broke Sophie’s skin and the blood began staining Sophie’s skin, she smiled. The code was stronger than any human emotion.