"I'm sure," Molly says, and though she doesn't manage to sound quite as sure as she actually is, she knows there's no turning back from here. Any other time, and she's not sure she'll want to at all. When not thinking about it is a possibility, it's one she'll always take, without fail, and usually, this is something she can put away, that she doesn't have to let affect her day to day life. That isn't an option now, though, and really, it's only right that she tell him. She always knew she would have to sooner or later. It wouldn't really be right just to keep going otherwise. If they're going to keep doing whatever the fuck the two of them are doing, she thinks he ought to know the kind of baggage she really comes with.

What she doesn't know, now that they're here, is where to start. She wants to tell him about it, but not just to go step by step, to recount the entire night in all its uncomfortable detail. He doesn't need that. Neither does she, for that matter. She settles, then, on what they both already know. "You saw me after, didn't you? The bruises, the stitches..." Then, she hadn't yet been able to hide her broken nose with makeup, or the gash along her lower lip where Patrick had bitten it open. "That was the least of it."