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I’d expected some sort of protest when I’d cliized totoo ht there on the spot

A part of e that someone had been in his hoitated he seean to understand that the man in my arms had scars that ran even deeper than I could fathom

My chest felt heavy as I carefully turned Jude over onto his back and said, "Talk to h light from the streetlamp outside to confirm that there were streaks of tears on his cheeks

"Talk to ed as I cupped his face and ran my thumb back and forth over his damp cheekbone

"My cars," he whispered "I need my cars"

It was the last thing I expected to hear I understood that he had some kind of sentimental attachment to them, but it didn't make sense that he would be so completely out of sorts without them

"Jude, we’ll get them back tomorrow I know they're important to you—"

Before I could even finish my statement, Jude violently shook his head and choked out, "I hate them" His eyes were still squeezed shut and his entire body was locked up tight "I hate them," he repeated

His words made no sense to me If he hated them, why did he need them?

I opened my mouth to ask him that very question but realized it didn'tto hi I needed to kno to help him now

I thought about when he’d shown me the cars He’d said that they were out of order When he’d rehtstand, he’d done so one at time like they'd been lined up inside of that drawer I considered some of the OCD tendencies that Jude had What if the cars were part of that? I’d never seen Jude fixate on things like needing to turn light switches on and off a certain nu locks on doors, but what if the cars were his fixation, his ritual?

"Tell me about the cars," I said as I slid ht ainst my chest He shook his head in response to htened on me