Her whole body is alive with motion.
Each muscle tremors under tremendous stress, shaking her legs and arms in a disorganized, frantic motion. The knees buckle inward as they collapse, sending the entire body to the floor, writhing and kicking along the way. Her hands grasp air tightly, clawing at nonexistant threats and tossing them to the side. Muscles strain and pull ligaments inward, flexing and relaxing in rapid succession. Her face is running, soaked with wet tears, snot, and spit. With each breath she sniffles to divert rivers from running inward. Her mouth is open and crying, loud gasps from full, stressed lungs.
On the floor writhing, spitting, yelling, flexing, praying, she quivers with life.
In the bathroom on the floor lies her mother, silent. Despite crashes and screams from the next room, the face is rock solid and devoid of expression. Her eyes are motionless as they stare towards the tiled floor.
Her skin is waxy solid, a blue-gray hue.