For a moment, Molly isn't sure if it's a relief or worrying that he doesn't say anything more than that. It's not like there's really all that much too say, and God knows she doesn't want to have to talk about it at all, but it's such a heavy subject, almost surreal to consider having happened at all, that she isn't quite sure what to make of it. In the end, though, it doesn't matter. He's here as a cop, she knows that, and it isn't as if she'd know what to say to someone in her position, either. She barely even knows what to think, what to do at all except keep going. She'll get to the end of this eventually. It's better not to spend more time on it than she needs to.

"He kept shooting," she says, still not quite able to look at him, her voice softer. "I'm not really sure how many nails he hit me with, but you can see the bandages, if you need to. And then he... I kept telling him to stop, it was the most I could do, so he moved back over me, he... pulled my head back, and he held the nail gun to my neck." She draws in a trembling breath and finally, finally looks up, needing to make eye contact, though it's not as if that's the sort of thing that will be transmitted over the recording. "He was going to kill me, Russell. He said that — that if I shut up, then maybe he would wait until I was dead before he cut my tongue out."