I found a priest, and I put it to him. He said, “My dear, I’ve seen the boy’s arm. He’s got eight hours left, maybe ten. Surely you know that…”
“I know, father. And so does he. It’s what we want.”
The Father nodded. “All right then.”
They wouldn’t untie Freddie, even during the ceremony, but they let him put the ring on my finger. After, they left us alone in the cell, me in the dress I’d been carting around and him tied to the bed.
He never once asked me to untie him. I slept on the floor.