Where did it all go wrong?

I put my phone up to my ear, as I have for the last four days. It rings. Once. Twice. Three times, four times, and...

“The number you dialed is not available, please leave your name and number after the—”

“Lawrence, you piece of shit,” I mutter as I hang up the phone.

Where did it all go wrong?

I put my phone up to my ear once more. It rings once. He used to be so outgoing, way back then. Twice. He was in track and boxing and even took up MMA. Three times. When did it change? Not long after he graduated from high school, I suppose. Four times, and...

“The number you dialed....”

I hang up and call again, as I have done for the last four days. I’ll do this another two times before leaving a message. It rings. Once. Twice, three times. Four times. Hang up.

One more time. I sigh as I navigate through the phone’s screens. Something in him changed, about a year or so after high school, when Dad started to drink. He had been attending college, for the most part, but then he just....stopped. He stopped and stayed home, not talking to anyone, except a few scant words every now and then if confronted, or asked to borrow money for something or another. I gave him money a few times but stopped after about 400. That was about the time he started gaining weight, as well. He went from a strong, healthy 20-year-old. To a fat waste in only half a decade.

I tried to help him. I really did. I recommended him to a good therapist. He said he couldn’t go because he didn’t have insurance, but how was that my problem? Just get a job. I got a job right out of high school; now I was the manager of a bank.

He had done a lot of shitty things in the past. Ignoring my pleas for him to get a job and stop mooching off of Mom and Dad, and pay me back the money he owed; not talking to a therapist like I asked to get my life back on track, and, worst of all, wasted the enormous potential he had.

Lawrence, at one point, was as bright as a star. Someone who could do anything as long as he put his mind to it. He once walked 30 miles in a single day; following the old abandoned tracks from our town to an adjacent town and back, just to prove to one of my friends that he could. He was smart, as well as tenacious. Give him a subject he was interested in, and he’d hyper-focus on it, absorb as much as he could, and talk to it as frequently as he could. In those moments, he was as bright as the sun.

Now? Now he was mud. Where did it all go wrong? I got the call about three weeks back. Lawrence had punched Dad for no reason and stormed out of the house with Clio, and no one could get in contact with him. Then, a week ago, he harassed my wife at the store for no reason, and four days ago, she came to me in tears. He was sending her threatening and harassing messages on Facebook over the last four days, now? What changed, Lawrence, what changed?

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I put the phone to my ear. It rings. Once. Twice. Three times. I roll my eyes. Now he was ignoring me? We used to be best friends. Fou—

“Hello?”

“Lawrence you piece of shit you don’t EVER talk to my wi—”

“Ah, are you related to Lawrence?”

The voice was unfamiliar. Mechanical, and low. As if I were speaking to a living metronome.

“Who is this?”

“A colleague of his,” the voice answers, “so what’s your problem with him?”

“He’s my brother, and over the last couple of days, he’s been sending threatening and sexually harassing messages to my wife. Let me talk to him.”

“Over the last couple of days, really?” If a robot could sound incredulous that’s how his voice would sound in those minutes.

“Yes, I saw the messages myself.” I grip the phone all the tighter, “He’s there, right? Let me talk to him.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s been in a coma for the past week.”

“A coma? Bullshit,” I raise my voice, “Is that your excuse for being lazy now, Lawrence? Wake up and talk to me like a man.”

“Gods, would you shut up?” Another voice raises up on the other line and speaks up. This one is female and lively. The total opposite of the one who had been speaking to me, “You hear that your brother is in a coma and the first thing you do is call him lazy? Will, hang up.”

“I demand to speak to him.” I insist. “I know him he’s —”

“He’s in a coma. Do you know what that means idi—”

The line goes dead. A coma, really Lawrence? Is that the best excuse you got? I’ve seen the messages... I toss my phone onto the bed and punch the pillow. Where did it all go wrong, Lawrence?

I’ll try again tomorrow, for now, I still had some emails to send out. Several hundred people were moving into our town, with the government’s orders, and our bank was being used by the military in town now, so some logistics still needed to be done.

I step into my home office. The air is heavy in here. Where was the dehumidifier? There had been some rain recently. That was probably the reason. I walk across the dark room and sit at the computer. On the screen, were the words: “If you had the chance to fight for your world, would you take it?”

What is this, some sort of game?

I push yes. It’s been a while since I played a game, and I could use a distraction. Maybe Allie got it for me, knowing how busy and stressed I’ve been.

There’s some lore dump. Something about a god of war invading Earth. I never really liked RPGs, so I zone out until I come up to the section. “Strength, magic, or wits,” I drum my fingers across the desk.

I was never strong, but I am smart. I choose wits. I choose a couple of spells. When I did play games, when I was younger, I always picked an archer class, so I deviate more towards archery: true shot, seemed nice. A sure hit every ten minutes? It was better than the alternatives, at least. I choose it. I also choose the ability entangle, something to stop the enemies from approaching. After, that I choose a utility skill. Simple trap-making. I’m sure it’ll come in useful. What kind of game was this? I wonder if Lawrence had tried it. He liked games...maybe I’ll try to connect with him over this, once all of this blows over, and he apologizes to both Allie and me...

My mind wandering back to him turns my mood. When I choose the three skills it asks if I was sure. I roll my eyes and click yes.

“We the gods and spirits inhabiting the earth have decided to grant you one wish, please note that by accepting our offer, you are agreeing to participate in this war...”

A wish, huh?

I chuckle sadly. One wish, eh? If this was real, what would my wish be? Money? No. I have plenty of that. Everlasting life? No. That would be too sad in the long run. There's only one thing I can think of; one thing echoed by the memories of childhood plaguing me, and the question that rolled through my mind whenever I thought back to those happy years: where did it all go wrong?

“All I want is my big brother back,” I say out loud, with a heavy sigh.

“If that is your wish.”