Jack couldn't stand to live in the main house anymore. He couldn't explain it or rationalize it. He just found that he couldn't stare at every place that he had shared with his parents and not break down crying while he was alone.
And so, he closed it up. He packed everything that was left in his basement to send it over to Leipzig, and closed up the house. Sarah asked him if he wanted to sell it, saying that she would take care of everything once his mother was set up in rehab. But he found that he couldn't bring himself to sell it either.
In a way, it was like his teenage love for Chase. It hurt to look at it, to be trapped in it. But he couldn't bear to cut it away for good. He wanted to keep it close. Not close enough that it hurt, but close enough that he could still own it.
He kept only his robots. The clothes he had been wearing, and the few things he had helped his mom pack. He felt like he was running away. Escaping from everything and nothing at the same time.
"Don't watch the news," suddenly said his mom, sitting next to him in the limo. "They will be awful about this."
"I won't," said Jack. He hadn't brought a tv to his new apartment for that very reason, but he knew that the reporters would crowd around his apartment as soon as his mother was in rehab. He couldn't keep the press away. Especially with how long the meeting with the management board was taking.
"I'm sorry," she said.
Jack sighed. He knew she was sorry. But he still found she had drank half a bottle of whiskey before they left.
It hurt.
"I know, mom," he said.
"Will you really be alright?" she asked.
"Of course," he lied.
He wouldn't be alright. He didn't want to run the company. He didn't want to be on his own. He didn't want to live.
Life was difficult and sad, and it terrified him to know that he found it all too reasonable for his mom to try to drown out the world with alcohol.