Nodding, Molly shoots him a grateful look, drawing in a shaky breath as she does. As much as she hates how fucking difficult this is, wishes she could just shrug it off and act like everything's fine, the fact remains that it is and she can't, and even such a quiet acknowledgment of that goes a long way. She's always shouldered things by herself, as much because she's had to as because she wouldn't have wanted to admit to needing anything else. This, though, isn't like that. It won't go away, there's no quick fix, and it's more than she can bear on her own. To Russell, she would probably even admit as much. As it is, though, with the recorder still running, she just wants to get to the end, all the more so for how little there is left to tell.

"He fell," she says, soft. "I mean, it — it killed him instantly. And then... Lisbeth gave me her phone, told me to call for help. So I did."