The Skylar Experiment : Dead Ending (second draft)

Thirty-Nine - Emotional Gas Tank

LUC

HE SWITCHED THE CHARRED METAL in his hands to examine it from all angles under the living room light. I was sitting across from him, coming to terms that I allowed him home after ages without news. Silver eyes peered at the device's mangled wiring. He looked older, of course, with stubble across his jaw. His chest had broadened, and he came dressed in a blouse and leather jacket as if he clocked out of work before this. 

We didn't have much to say to each other. I let him inside and showed him the bracelet. He peeked over it at me.

"What do you expect me to do, exactly?" Raymond asked, a palpable tension in his voice. He didn't like being here any more than I did.

"I need it to be functional again. This bracelet broadcasts a frequency that incapacitates us, and I want it to work."

Raymond leaned back on the couch and placed the cuff on the coffee table, suddenly glaring at it like it would bite his nails off. His eyes narrowed in confusion. "Hold on, you can't just demand that I fix this crap and expect me to agree without the full story. How did you even score this?"

I was scratching my chin and stopped, letting my hand dangle on the side of my face. "No one told you?"

"Told me what?"

I was surprised nobody warned him. The others didn't garner the same aversion I had towards this asshat. My reasons were personal, and what happened between him and my sister wasn't common knowledge. 

When I learned that he was messing with Lauren, I'd told Ben and Heather—well, after I went apeshit and smashed his face on my deck. Devin had been in on the secret already, being closely bonded with Lauren and all. During a whole week, I didn't want to talk to her, because I thought I could trust her to tell me things of that nature, and she hadn't. Eventually, I gave up. It didn't matter. The only people at fault were Raymond for being his lousy horndog self, and my sister for lying to me.

The guy was allowed to be a horndog, but not around her, damn it. I knew from personal experience just how dirty he played girls. Once upon a time, I was his wingman and vice-versa. It was none of my business until Raymond lost his brain cells and targeted her. 

The guy was a certified madman, and when you thought he couldn't get crazier, he revealed another layer of crazy. It was offensive when people associated my behavior to his, saying we were similar. I begged to differ. Raymond had no clear judgement, ruined opportunities for the sake of fun, lived for booze and hookups and chaos, different city every night. But I needed his help, and I had no other choice but to accept his lovely presence at a time like this.

"How come you don't know?"

He shrugged, but it didn't seem casual. "I don't speak to that many people, lately. I bust my ass at work and travel all over the place."

Yeah, sure, alright... I chewed my resentment and explained what happened at the warehouse, including the events leading up to it and the aftermath. Muscles in my neck twitched when I mentioned Lauren and he perked up. At first, he needed a moment to compute that she was alive. He rubbed his stubble thoughtfully, a haunted glint in his eyes. I struggled to stay seated and sew my mouth shut.

"So, she's back in school?" he inquired, voice scraped and rough. "Is she okay...?"

"What, are you going to send her flowers and beg her to take you back?" I retorted. "After you fed her false hope?"

Raymond eyed me nastily. "You're a piece of shit. I never hurt her, and I was going to tell her about—"

"Oh, I'm the piece of shit?" I rose from the chair, abandoning all efforts. He was unearthing all the undesirable memories and pushing the wrong buttons. "Okay, maybe I am, but don't flatter yourself. You don't shine either, dickhead. I was protecting my sister from you. All you ever did was use her like you use every other girl on this planet. One night, and then you toss them away."