It still doesn't make much sense to Molly, why Lisbeth would have gone to all that trouble to get into Patrick's apartment, how her timing could have been so fucking impeccable. Just a few seconds longer, and she would be the dead one, her and Andrea both. Instead, they somehow managed to escape with their lives, the two of them. For that alone, at least this part of the story is a little easier to tell, no longer directly involving her. She keeps her hand wrapped around Russell's anyway, the reassurance in the touch more than she could say even if this weren't all being recorded. Right now, it's a reminder badly needed that she isn't alone, that she's still here.

"I'm not sure," she says honestly, biting her lip before she can remember not to, drawing in a sharp, shaky breath when it pulls at the stitches there. "I wasn't really... I didn't realize anything had happened until after. I'd kind of already figured that was it, you know?" Though it's the part she was solely a witness to, it's also the part of the night that's the haziest, a few short seconds that managed to save her life. She tries, though, to summon up what detail she can, knowing that this more than any of the rest of it is important to have on record. "But no, that wasn't it. He, um — he got mad. I think he threw the nail gun at her. Then he got up, and he — he was choking her."