Many things have meanings and are classed a symbolic. The cross, for example, has had many interpretations.

Some say it is the symbol of sacred fire or the symbol of the god of the tempest. Others say that it is related to authority and power whilst others believe it holds a certain religious value. But whatever the interpretation, it still holds some sort of meaning, just like the cross in an abandoned warehouse in California.

Rope wrapped around each separate wrist, cutting the skin, forcing it into the rough wood he was tied upon. A gentle trickle of blood had started to fall from his hands upon the spotless circle of floor, in which the cross stood. His feet, much like the rest of his body, were bare and tied together around the ankles and toes, forcing them to see the ground they could not reach. They were tied with just enough precision to cause pain and tension in the man's muscles. However, the rest of his body remained unscathed. It was only covered in goose bumps from the chill in the air. He was tied up in complete darkness, struggling against the well-crafted knots to no avail.

"The people chose you," a soft voice whispered, "So why struggle? You are the chosen one. This is your destiny."

The man stiffened. He looked up towards the voice which sounded strange but familiar. It was inviting but icy cold too. It was a voice that he felt had been haunting him for eternity. He knew he should be afraid, very afraid, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why this man was so terrifying.

The man who had spoken stood by a switch, grinning, his lips curling up towards his left eye. It was as if he could see into the man's head and see each part clearly ticking away like clockwork. He reached up towards the switch, hovering over it as he exhaled loudly, bringing fear to the man on the cross. He flicked the switch.

"Hello Doc. How are we today? I hope you're not too tied up there?" he asked sincerely, his eyes gleaming with hidden laughter.

The Doctor stared at the man who taunted him. He was just an ordinary man. There was nothing strange in appearance about him except his face. He knew that face but he just didn't know where from.

"Oh I'm great," he said sarcastically, "How about you?" he asked

"Hush hush. It's my turn to ask the questions. Today, I'm your doctor Mr Meade."

Mr Meade froze. The man knew his name and he now recognised who this man was. But no. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be him. Why him?

"Now, let's see. Your last check-up was what? Three months ago?" The man asked, walking towards him, stopping just an arm's length away.

Mr Meade looked into the man's eyes. They were filled with pleasure and that was when fear truly set in to his bones.

"Yes." He said, lowering his eyes to the ground, not being able to bear the sight of the man before him, "It was around three months ago."

"And how are you feeling right now?"

"W…what?"

"How are you feeling today?"

"Err… well…"

"Really Mr Meade, it's not that hard of a question. Are you comfortable up there or is too tight? Do you feel good or ill?"

Mr Meade looked up at the man and gave him a cynical look.

"Do I feel good? Oh yeah sure I feel good! And no, I'm not tied up tight enough, I mean it's not like there's blood on the floor is there? Why don't you just stick me on this thing tighter?" he burst out. Did this man really not see the obvious? Of course he was uncomfortable; he was naked and tied to a wooden cross for Christ's sake!

"Oh I can stick you on there if you really want me to." The man replied, his lips curling upwards as he walked towards him.

"I can do that just fine." He whispered softly, Mr Meade barely able to hear him.

He crouched down next man's feet, looking at something on the floor. Carefully he picked the objects he required up, before looking into the Mr Meade's eyes. He held the gaze whilst moving in front of him, his hands now behind his back.

"You asked for this." He said, bringing his right hand in front of him and opening it out to reveal four nails in his palm.

The look of curiosity to fear and shock changed so abruptly that it made the man smile brighter. Carefully, he placed the point of the nail above the arch of Mr Meade's right foot. Ever so slowly, he applied pressure, letting the nail feel the skin before finally breaking the surface.

"Please don't. Please." Mr Meade asked, on the verge of crying.

The man paused and looked up into his eyes. He pulled the nail away from the skin and Mr Meade looked up and heaved a huge sigh of relief.

"Thankyoaaahhowww."

A faint burst of laughter escaped the man's lips. Whilst Mr Meade had been looking up, he had brought round the hammer from his other hand and forced the nail through the skin.

After it had broken the skin, it then broke the tissue underneath, carrying on through the layers, reaching to the wood behind the foot. Fresh blood dripped down onto the floor, slowly spreading out. The drops splashed as they fell, leaving the man with a little blood on his face, but it did not bother him one bit.

"You son of a bitch!" Mr Meade yelled at him.

He would have carried on yelling insults if the man had not then pierced his other foot and then stood up to do the same to his right hand.

Tears now fell down Mr Meade's face. He bit down on his lip, biting too hard from the pain, causing the taste of blood to enter his mouth. His face kept contorting as he sobbed into the emptiness around him.

"I am only giving you what you asked for." The man said as he took hold of Mr Meade's left hand.

"No, please. Stop it please. Just leave it." he whimpered

The man raised the hammer and put the nail in the centre of Mr Meade's palm. He looked once more into the man's eyes, but this time as he held his gaze, he also brought the hammer down to the nail, not blinking once. Mr Meade screamed with the newly brought pain and tried to tear away from the bonds that now secured him in place. He put all his effort into fighting the truth of his situation and watched as the man he had once called a good friend, turned his back and walked away. Mr Meade froze and stared at his retreating body.

"Didn't any ever tell you it was rude to stare?" the man said before flicking the switch, engulfing them both into a deep darkness.

"No? I guess I'll have to teach you that lesson myself then" he laughed aloud, walking back the way he came.

Mr Meade tried to escape. He yelled for help but no one replied. As the darkness grew, so did his screams.

"Any last words?"

"Why?" he asked, staring into the cold blue eyes of his old friend.

"Because I need to say hello."