"Sabrina… how did this happen?"
Clement's voice carried disbelief first, then rode in on a wave of anger so sharp it scraped the air. His eyes were hard, incredulous, fixed on her like she had personally torn something vital out of his chest.
"How could this happen?" he continued, his voice rising. "How could you be so careless, so foolish?" His hand cut through the air. "Didn't you say you were going to see a friend?"
Then he pointed at his phone, which was still playing the video—over and over—of his daughter running mad through the streets, streaked red, screaming as tomatoes hit her.
"How then are you running on the street like that," he demanded, "pelted with tomatoes?" His lips curled. "Did your friend push you away?"
When silence greeted him, he hissed through his teeth and dropped the phone hard on the table.
"You better talk to me," he warned coldly, "or I might get rid of those eyes for real!"
