Helly's stomach clenches in horror, her mouth falling open. It's a horrible thought, an oppressive thought; it makes her skin crawl. That this place might be more than just a place, it might be somehow alive. She glances outside as if she's expecting to see their tidy little lawn rising and falling like it's breathing. It isn't, of course, but she feels a little like she's been eaten by something all the same.

"Yeah. And we need to change that." She grips the edge of the counter with both hands, knuckles white, her gaze locked on Arthur. "He said to me, just before he knocked me out... I can do whatever I want down here. Like he's... let loose down there. Like it's all up to him what happens." She bites the inside of her cheek to centre herself a little, because she can't help her mind from drifting to the idea of kicking the shit out of Norman Pollock. "The point is, maybe he's said other stuff to other people. I know we weren't the only ones, we can't have been."