Oh thank you thank you thank you - Molly immediately turns and bolts for the door beneath the stairs, throwing the occasional look over her shoulder to make sure Wrath's following, trying to ignore the corpses of her parents and the blood on the floor (because there's blood on the floor, now, and there's cockroaches crawling in it if you look at it wrong), and then she all but stumbles into the little room and hurries to close the door once they're both inside.

It's a nice space: clearly suited for a child, clearly her own personal hideaway. But as soon as she curls up against the door with her hands pressed against it like that'll help if the Boogeyman decides to break the door in, there's no joy to be found in the familiarity.

She's still crying, but she did stop screaming.

She's whispering.

"He won't find us in here if we keep quiet."