It's a strange thing, being so self-conscious of the way she looks. Molly isn't used to that, has only ever been confident about her body, even — maybe especially — when it comes to sex. Now, though, it's scarred in ways it hasn't been before, and it's impossible not to think about that, to think about having a nail gun pressed against her throat and below her collarbone, as his mouth moves lower. It would be easier if she didn't have to think at all, but that's not an option, not yet. There's not much else for her to do, lying here like this, except let him keep going, half-convinced she needs him to.