Though there's not an inch of her that doesn't still hurt, it's as comforting as anything could be, having Russell close to her, and Molly holds on for that reason alone. When there's nothing that's going to make her feel better physically, she figures she ought to take what else she can, and this is entirely worth it. She still doesn't feel safe, not quite — she doesn't think anything could accomplish that right now — but Russell being here is about as close to it as she can get. After a night like this, that goes a long fucking way, even if it takes a good deal of effort to keep a sob from rising up in her throat. She's too worn out to let herself fall apart again, though he's one of the few people she would let herself do so in front of.

"It was under his fucking bed," she says, voice soft, chest tight. She's pretty sure she specified that in her statement, too, but it's about more than just conveying facts now. "It could've been there for months, and I would never have known." That's what she keeps coming back to, and one of the things that most differentiates this from the time Russell was sick. With that so easily accessible, there's no way it could have been entirely random. He knew too well what he was doing for that. Drawing back only enough to catch Russell's gaze, she frowns, finally giving voice to something that's been weighing on her. "Do you think... Were there others?"