I was walking along that night. All alone when I heard something in the far off distance. I could not tell what it was. I got closer till I could here the croud shouting "crusify him crusify him" I got scared. " Who were they going to crusify and why?"
I pushed my way into the cround to see who was going to be crusified. I was pushed out of the way told that this was no place for a little girl. Still I pushed on till I saw him. Standing there at the front of the croud was my best friend.
I looked at him and he looked back. There was a look in his eyes that had never been there before. It was kind but knowledgable. I was sad but he looked almost glad to be standing there getting ready to die.
I could do nothing as they mocked him and spat on him.
Nor when they whipped him and put his rob back on him just to pull it off once the blood had dried on it. I was sad but that look was still in his eyes.
The next day I was there as he was walking up the hill. He was carying his cross. Ready to die. People said that he had lied and others said he was breaking the law but I knew him better then that he was my best friend.
I felt so bad as he walked up the hill when a man came and took his cross from him. Caried it up the hill so my best friend could die. I was scared and sad but I saw his face and knew he was content.
That afternoon they mocked him more. The Roman soldiers called him the "King of the Jews"...