"Where ya think gonna go?"
The child's throat was clogged; the external forces tortured her breathing path when the child needed air the most from exhaustion—exhaustion not only from running away, but also to keep the child's life from 'running away' from her throat due to the child's condition was now teeming with life-or-death struggle… especially when the naked truth spoke for itself—the naked truth which spoke about the child's whack and whirl,
Like when the child contorted, no doubt as an attempt at taking control of the situation, yet not because of that foreboding uneasiness when the child found her feet were no longer sticking on the ground but floating high above… no, that wasn't it… but more because the child was afraid of 'falling asleep' any moment now,
"Tis all soon'll end if ya just quit wrigglin' 'bout."
