She remembered the car, but to say she blew it up wasn't as she remembered. It was more like out a hole through, a very elongated hole. It wasn't like it had exploded or anything. That is what she imagined blowing a car up would be.
"It's not like this was my first time out." She said abruptly, her eyes narrowed. Talking sens into the girl was like talking to a brick wall, especially when her head hurt and she felt backed into a corner. "You say that, but with the rules on campus for the ages of the student population, I'm pretty sure this is close enough to whatever old days memories you keep from me." Nothing was getting better the more she talked, she was too damned exhausted from the night to say anything other than stupidly childish and hurtful things.
She lowered her eyes to the floor, matched anger for anger and sorrow for sorrow. She should have been born an empath with the way she followed her father's reactions, though hers were always more vocal like her mother. Viola chewed on the corner of her lip, she wanted to say sorry, but saying sorry would admit defeat.
The expression, the nosebleed, of her father made her want to fix what she had done, but she couldn't. That had been the problem lately she came to the realization of how big of a fuck up she was and that she would never pull through her classes or raise her class. It all sat heavy in her stomach as she chose to not respond and sit in silence instead. One of her eyes changing to the ice blue that always happened when she was having predominantly trigger issues.