Molly nods in turn, that having been what she'd thought. Most of that time in her life has blended together, so many days spent virtually hiding out in her apartment whenever possible, dodging calls and not wanting to be seen, but she doesn't think she would have imagined that. Forgotten having crossed paths with someone, maybe, but not that. Either way, that isn't really what matters here. It's a starting point, nothing more; if he hadn't known, it would have been the easiest thing to tell him. It helps, a bit, but it doesn't lessen the weight of the rest, things that she's already worrying about how he'll respond to.
Backtracking isn't an option, though. If not for him, so he really knows the truth of it, then she thinks maybe she needs to for herself, just to not have it hanging overhead anymore. Not telling him, she'd always wonder, always feel like she should. And if her talking about it now says a lot about where they are with each other, that's something it's convenient to ignore for the time being.
"A lot of it is kind of a blur now," she admits, trying to keep her voice as light as she can, mostly because she knows this only gets worse. If she starts off too bogged down, the rest will only be all the more unbearable. "I... He slammed my head into the wall. Gave me a concussion. Right after he almost strangled me." It takes effort not to lift a hand to her throat at the memory of that, but she manages, not wanting to dwell on that part of it now. "But the big things are there. The details."
She tugs the collar of her shirt down a little, gesturing to the scar just under her collarbone, small and round and matching an assortment of others. That Lee has never asked her about them is something she appreciates more than she can say. It also makes her all the more inclined to want to explain now. "He had a nail gun under his bed. I don't know how long it'd been there for. That's what these are from."
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Backtracking isn't an option, though. If not for him, so he really knows the truth of it, then she thinks maybe she needs to for herself, just to not have it hanging overhead anymore. Not telling him, she'd always wonder, always feel like she should. And if her talking about it now says a lot about where they are with each other, that's something it's convenient to ignore for the time being.
"A lot of it is kind of a blur now," she admits, trying to keep her voice as light as she can, mostly because she knows this only gets worse. If she starts off too bogged down, the rest will only be all the more unbearable. "I... He slammed my head into the wall. Gave me a concussion. Right after he almost strangled me." It takes effort not to lift a hand to her throat at the memory of that, but she manages, not wanting to dwell on that part of it now. "But the big things are there. The details."
She tugs the collar of her shirt down a little, gesturing to the scar just under her collarbone, small and round and matching an assortment of others. That Lee has never asked her about them is something she appreciates more than she can say. It also makes her all the more inclined to want to explain now. "He had a nail gun under his bed. I don't know how long it'd been there for. That's what these are from."