Scourging was called the little death. It preceded the big death, Crucifixion. Even the tension of awaiting the first blow is cruel. The body is rigid. The muscles knot in tormenting cramps.
Color drains from the cheeks.
Lips are drawn tight against the teeth. As the whip descends, the chains fan out across the back, and each link cuts through the skin and deep into the flesh. The weights crash with bruising force into the ribs and curl bitingly around the chest. When a man is scourged there is pain beyond imagination. Sweat bursts from the brow and stings the eyes.