Love, Honey

#11 *SS - Run

Sammy is running. Running away. They can't catch him; Sammy knows that running and hiding is the only option. If they find him his effort would have been nothing but wasted energy. He's panting, but this creepy smile won't even once leave his face. Sammy huffs, taking a short break a few moments later, still smiling like a maniac. He knows they will find him, catch him eventually, he knows that every break could be the last, the one he regrets. Still, Sammy is laughing, smiling, running. He enjoys this. He enjoys the thrill, the wind hugging his body, slapping his face.

He knows the people chasing after him, he knows how they walk, what they look like, how they think. Sammy knows them well, maybe a little too well. Yet this knowledge excites him, the knowledge pushes him to run faster, further. So, he runs. The slapping, harsh wind makes tears form in his eyes. His huge smile makes dirt stick to his teeth. Beads of sweat roll down his forehead, stopping at his eyebrows, slowly trickling down his nose into his widely opened mouth. Sammy likes the slightly salty taste, he likes the feeling of the water-like substance on his face. When he feels and tastes the liquid he knows he's alive, he knows they haven't caught up to him yet. Sammy runs, laughs and sweats all at the same time.

His mind goes to all kinds of places, he imagines himself as a super-villain on the run or as Simba running from the buffalos in The Lion King, as his younger self running home from school, away from the bullies. Sammy runs with horror scenarios in his mind, he runs in imaginary worlds, he runs. One thought kept repeating in his mind: "They can't catch me. They can't catch me because I won't let them." With his eyes halfway closed he runs. He's tired, still he never stops for longer than a couple of seconds. He's out in the open, outside the boundaries of the city, he can see the people chasing after him when he looks back, shooting them a cheeky smile every once in a while.

For some reason Sammy likes to be chased, the feeling only appeared not too long ago when he finally started feeling alright again. Now he can't help but be reckless, have fun and never stop running. He finally feels free enough to be childish again and goof around. Sammy loves this. He can finally be the child he never was, he can finally experience what it's like not to worry, he can finally goof around and enjoy his life the way he always wanted to but never could.

Yet, this thrill could have a rough end. They could catch him when he least expects it. He could fall or run out of breath. They'd catch up to him quickly, poking his side, happily shouting.

"Tag, you're it!"