Ezra let the crowbar clatter to the floor, and he sat there, breathing hard as he tried to dial it back. As he tried to find the person in the shell of him, and stop allowing this part of him to rule. It was harder than it should have been.
It had been harder for a long time now. He knew he barely held it together sometimes. Emilie was insane in a much more obvious way. His own broken edges weren't floating on the surface so much as buried just beneath the surface, ready to cut through at the slightest allowance of it.
He didn't speak, just staring blankly at the mess that used to be the zombie's head, not really seeing it.