The only thing he can think about, other than his rage directed at whoever the killer might be, is that he's glad Martha's mother isn't here to see this. For one thing, she would never forgive him, and assuming that she's cut from the same cloth as Martha, she wouldn't rest until she found a way to have her revenge.

The tension in his shoulders doesn't let up as he keeps staring at Martha, wishing that he could somehow undo this, and change things so that it never happened. But he can't; he can't even take everyone away from this place. He's every bit as trapped as the rest of them, and he's not used to that at all.

If he could, if he hadn't already been on the receiving end of the man with the axe, he'd go right out there and track him down and-

It's hard to know what he'd do, but it's almost painfully clear to him that something has to be done, whether it's imprisonment or something far more drastic and final.

Amy's hand on his arm, and the words she says slowly penetrate his thoughts, and he manages to bring himself back to the present. "We shouldn't have to set this right. This should never have happened. I should have been paying more attention."

And now Martha's dead, and he wasn't even there to try and stop it.