your poker face ain't fooling nobody

Just up ahead, he’d find her. She was waiting for him just up ahead. Rhyme’s long stride varied in its length as he chased after phantoms, not aware of the presence nearby. Desperate to keep going he pushed himself, but was pulled violently from the fog at Samara’s voice. The tug of reality beckoned him, the pain of knowing he was alive. Instead of this half existence he’d slipped into, constantly chasing a ghost. He didn’t want to face the crippling pain.

”Sh…” no, this wasn’t her. ”Mara.” He finished, realizing vaguely who stood before him. Samara, his distraction from what he’d thought at the time were huge problems. None of it mattered now, not with.. he forced the thought away and looked back out into the mangroves. She was out there somewhere.

”Samara.” He said again, strengthening his grasp on reality as dulled gaze lingered on her petite form. He steadied himself, but realized quickly that to cease moving was to give into his exhaustion. His haunches fell heavily against the ground and his form slumped visibly as what little attention he was capable of focused on her.