And as very typical for Jerome, as soon as he was able to snap, as soon he was able to snap out of it again, especially when people calmly tried to talk sense into him and making him realize that his tantrums had accomplished nothing. Jerome hated this part of him with a passion, and he hated the fact that it still did happen on a regular basis. Especially now, his usual self-hatred was more harmful then ever, because his mental stability was basically non-existent right now, and years of neglecting his own mental well-being caught up to him in the worst moment possible. He had had several chances in the last decades to get some help for himself, to get therapy, to check on his own health, but here he was, not having taken any of these chances, always pretending that he had things under control, and when he had been with his children, he had succeeded in putting on this little charade.
But they were not here. Lucy was not his daughter, Joe was not one of her bullies. He had snapped for no reason. Not that he wasn't angry at Joe anymore, but still, after a really little cool-down period lasting only seconds, he did realize really fast that his disgust had been partially unjustified, and that even though he would probably never get to like this man, snapping had been the absolute worst cause of action. Because he was the worst.
The woman was right. Jerome's gaze changed slightly when she spoke to him, changing from spitting fire to displaying regret, and even though the shame hit him immediately, he continued looking her into the eyes while she lectured him. She was right. He was exceptionally unhelpful, and he didn't behave like the grown man that he was. Judging on looks, he probably was the oldest in this hall, and yet, acted liked the youngest. He had no mercy for himself. Snapping only ever felt like a part of himself for the moment it lasted. Lucy was not his daughter. His daughter wasn't here.
There it was again, this wave of disgusting defeat, accompanied by shame and self-loathing, and all the other crap feelings that he had suppressed during the breakfast, ocassionally. He nodded while Audrey spoke, starting with that during the second half of her speech. He nodded to Edwin. He nodded to Oliver. He didn't say a single word.
Audrey and Edwin obviously managed this situation extremely well, and Jerome didn't have the energy to force himself to be a productive part of this moment anymore. He had tried already, did fail, then got slowly angrier and how he was here. The sense of responsibility he was desperately clinging to to cope with stuff was buried under the feeling of defeat, and Jerome's mind just didn't want anymore. This day finally took its toll. He was at his very limits.
Jerome almost did what Oliver had slowly suggested, but he didn't take the stairs down. As contradictory as it felt, the sense of people being in his reach somehow felt like a neccessity now. There was something within him that didn't want to leave him alone with his demons right now, but at the same time, he definitely needed to back down, he needed a break from everyone and anything.
He slowly turned around, making his way to the opposite wall, to the place Lucy and Pam had been just a few moments before, his brain empty, not really consciously noticing what he was actually doing. He leaned against the wall next to Pam's door, then sank down, sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall and staring with an empty gaze in the void that had opened in front of his eyes. His fingers trembled, while his mind went numb. The only real feeling hitting him right in his stomach was the urge for alcohol. More than yesterday. Way more. He wanted to forget that he even existed, fleeing from everything. All the voices around him got blurry. And they stopped. Silence in his head.