It’s all a blur to him. Everything.
He remembers Emma and the brunette he doesn’t know exchanging a look. Then Emma was holding back Regina, something about you didn’t let me kill before, I won’t let you now, if he’d understood all the words. He can still hear them scream, can hear Regina’s anger, had felt it pulsing through his own veins, pulling at his heart along with his guilt – guilt he couldn’t help but feel because he should have seen it. He should have know it wasn’t his Marian.
How will he be able to look at himself in the mirror now?
He’d walked back until he couldn’t, until his back was pressed to the wall, suffocated, revolted by his own actions. He’d wanted to disappear – still does. He expects to wake up any minute now, to Marian pressed behind him, and to his semblance of a life, not a happy one but a better one, a life he’d been trying to rebuild.