Screaming, crying, swearing. All sounds that could be heard from the bathroom of an antiquated World War II bunker tucked away in the snowy Alps of Switzerland. With a final hail Mary of manual contraction, Winston Wardell had been extracted from his mother on the cold tile floor. The boy did not cry, he simply existed at the time of birth. From the moment of birth onwards, little Winston would be surrounded by firearms, explosives, and assortments of munitions. His parents, Eric and Agatha Wardell, were heavily involved in the Balkan firearms trade. Fueling regimes and corrupt republics with permanent solutions. Winston often accompanied his parents on each transaction, learning the trade from such a young age.

Public nor private schooling was never an option for Winston. Having their child out in the open was a high risk that the parents could not afford to take, given that his parents were on several international watch lists. He was home schooled from the bunker. Being homeschooled, he learned much faster than children in traditional school systems. He learned how to solve a problem in his own unique ways, unlike a traditional curriculum that only taught children to prepare for tests. Winston was allowed to work and learn at his own pace, allowing him to fully understand the tasks set in front of him, letting him embrace different techniques and use different approaches for solving issues. His parents let Winston choose what he wanted to learn, what interested him, allowing him to expand his knowledge exponentially. A great tool that his parents used while teaching him was explaining why he needed to learn what he was learning. This way, it added a greater importance to young Winston and kept his morale high in his home schooling.

Around the age of 12, Winston's education shifted to focusing on the trade that he would inherit. Who each of his parents' customers were, how to bend people. It was all about flavor and winning hearts. He needed to spice up his conversations and mold his personality around theirs. Winston could not force his own ideologies on others, he had to stay neutral on sales related topics, he had to allow the customer to make the decision for themselves. Neutrality was the key to winning any deal.

Around the age of 20, Winston would be found hanging around low end restaurants. Middle eastern immigrants were those he had an eye for. The immigrants would usually cross through the Balkans and up through middle Europe, seeking asylum. These immigrants could be found performing menial jobs that locals did not want. Working as bussers in kitchens, maintenance, auto repair. On occasion, Winston would offer these people jobs hauling imported fruit from Greek ports. He would pay them handsomely. Little did these people know, under a layer of fruit, was multiple serial-less weapons and ammo. Winston had set up several shell companies in China, Indonesia, and Sri Lanka that would own these trucks. He would generate false bills of ladings and accounting records to legitimize his businesses and transportation jobs. The routes he had the immigrants take the trucks would take them through sketchy towns and countryside roads, allowing them to evade government officials.

Winston would end up meeting a very peculiar woman working as a dishwasher. Maya was an immigrant fleeing the country of Georgia due to civil unrest. Aspiring to be an attorney, she felt she could help Winston with his trucking business. Winston was never good at understanding local regulations and legalities. This was the one major fallback to his current business, not understanding the laws and getting multiple of his drivers busted for arms trafficking. At the time, Maya was desperate for a job, she had little money, and what money she had went towards bills. She barely had enough money to put food on the table for herself every night. Winston extended the olive branch and offered her a job being his secretary.

Over the next year, Winston would introduce Maya to his family. They offered to buy her a condo near the bunker, a car, and paid her well for her assistance with their business. Times were looking better for both Winston and Maya. Winston and Maya formed a very strong friendship during this time. Together, they were boosting sales, encroaching into new areas, and enjoying themselves.

On a cold fall day, Winston's parents did not return home from a trip they had took to sell firearms to Moroccan rebels based in Algeria. Days and weeks went by. Worried, Winston had called one of their contacts in Algeria to see where his parents were. The phone quickly hung up on him, and in his messages were pictures of their bodies chopped up and fed to a horde of rats. A symbolism that his parents were worthless. This deeply disturbed Winston. More so, he did not feel like he was ready to take the helm of the empire when his parents abruptly left him.

Winston called Maya and asked her to freeze the shell companies he had opened and to close the transportation business he had been running. Confused, she complied. Winston had met with Maya and explained the situation in person. Winston reassured Maya that nothing would come to haunt them, but he needed to close the business to make sure. Winston handed Maya a briefcase with a small fortune inside, a token of appreciation to her dedication. Winston had also left Maya with a burner phone, in case he may need to contact her again. Hugging her, he vanished.

In the middle of the night, he transported himself in a van and arrived in Amsterdam 10 hours later. Living out of a dingy hotel, Winston would spend most of his time looking for an apartment he could rent. A few weeks went by, and he finally came across a small 1-bedroom apartment.

Winston would need to find a new way to make money. He couldn't sell guns anymore, which was a painful reality that he had to embrace as that was all he knew. Winston had to think hard. Amsterdam, relaxed laws, lots of beautiful people. A light switched on inside of his head. Winston would open a porn studio. It was the perfect plan. He could open the adult film company under an alias, he could use his apartment as the set, the business itself is a revolving door. No one stays in the porn industry for more than a few years. Faces aren't going to be remembered when you're getting railed by a beefcake of a man. In this scheme, Winston is just the camera man. Videos are permanent but if you don't star in them, no one knows who you are. Can you recall the name of the camera man for a specific video?

Olga had come into Winston's life, laying on his bed, getting railed by a man without a name. Working with Winston on multiple occasions, she had become a regular at his studio. Winston had grown a lot of feelings for this woman. She was older than him by 8 years. She also had a crippling cocaine and inhalant addiction, which she helped introduce Winston to. Over time, Winston had taken this woman out on multiple dates. She was the one.

Winston was his name and eloping was his game. Olga and Winston did not have a traditional wedding. They got married at the town hall and spent the rest of their night eating fast food, fornicating on the couch in Winston's living room, and getting high off pressurized cans of air. Their marriage started strong, but over the next two years, things quickly spiraled downwards.

Neutrality was a big factor in the downfall of marriage. Winston never expressed his concerns for his wife's continuation of being an actress in movies. This created a large rift in his mind, which was still trying to heal after seeing his parents turn into minced meat. The inhalants and cocaine did not help with the depression he had felt, it only hindered his rational thinking. Olga was not a sympathetic woman and only saw Winston for his money. This had been a hard lesson for Winston.

After two years of arguing and drug abuse, Olga initiated a divorce. She couldn't stand his whining. She couldn't comprehend the random outbursts he began to have. Winston's mind slowly deteriorated, not on a grandiose scale, however. The divorce rocked Winston's world, deepening the mental scars he had been embracing.

The internal flame for recording primal ball slapping sex had faded. Winston had hired a lot of male Sudanese actors for his business as they had immigrated to Europe looking for a better life. One of the actors he saw more than a business partner, but as a friend. This man had texted Winston, fearing for his family as they were still living in Sudan, looking for some sympathy from Winston. Civil war. War. Violence. Explosions. Guns. Money. Money. Money. It all clicked in Winston's head. Not bothering to return the text message, he had sparked a new plan.

Winston came across a no credit car dealership in Europe. He needed some sort of ride. Living in Amsterdam, he could walk anywhere he wanted. He needed to get back to Switzerland. Swedish engineering was affordable and reliable. In the back of the lot was a beat up tan 1990 Volvo 740 GLE station wagon. The clouds had parted the sky and shined the holy rays of sunshine upon its hood. This was the car he needed. It was spacious, it was gracious, most of all, the ladies would think it was vivacious. Winston had bought the car outright.

Driving all the way back to the Alps, Winston had returned to the bunker. He unsealed the locks, kicking open the door. Everything was coated in a layer of dust. Home sweet home. Winston would need to unfreeze the shell companies he had created. He also needed to take a trip to Sudan. He was missing one thing, however. His right-hand woman. It had been a few years since he last spoke with her. Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he was ready to call her. He had really hoped she would keep the burner phone he gave her charged like he asked her to.

Winston was confused, as he did not remember the number for her burner phone. He knew he had written it down and left it in the bunker somewhere, but he wasn't sure. His heart sank in his chest and panic started to set in. He began to tear up the bunker, searching for a small piece of paper with a phone number on it. Days went by and he couldn't find the note. He was frustrated and embarrassed. He thought the note had been sucked into the vent for the furnace. Everything was over, he lost Maya. He walked over to the refrigerator to grab a glass of water, digging through a dusty bunker had the man parched. He saw a piece of paper taped to the side of the fridge. Pulling the fridge out, he grabbed the note. It was the number he needed. He slammed his head into the fridge. God damnit.

A feint ringing led to the voice mailbox of Maya. He left a voice mail and put down the phone. Winston cried. Numerous thoughts ran through his head. He should have continued the business where his parents left off. He shouldn't have run away from his fears. He shouldn't have married a porn star that would only break his heart. Winston grabbed several pressurized cans of air from his car and got incredibly high, turning to addiction to save him from his depressive state. His nose started to bleed, and he collapsed on the table in the kitchen of the bunker.

A loud chime played next to his head. Was this the calling of the gods to grant him the strength he needed in these trying times? He would be correct. Maya was on the other end of the phone. He picked up and instantly started crying and venting to Maya. Telling her what happened, how he felt about everything, where he was these last two years. Most importantly, he asked her if she would help him rebuild the business they had been running years prior.

During this time, Maya had taken the small fortune Winston bestowed her with and used it to get a degree to be a Criminal/Immigration Attorney. She had opened her own practice in Copenhagen, Denmark and was doing well for herself. Her reply was hesitant, but Winston begged her over the phone. He even offered to let her work part time to start out with to see if she would want to get into it again. Maya agreed.

Khartoum, known for its luxurious hotels and exotic casinos, was what Winston had sold Maya on when explaining they would need to travel there. He made her see it as a vacation more so than business. Unfortunately, before his parents passed, they only had told him how to sell products, never how to source customers. How would Winston and Maya source customers in Sudan? How do you bring up selling illegal weapons in a casual conversation?

There are at least two sides to every story. Winston would need to observe who his customers are. Find out where the action is. He would need to figure out what kind of faction he is arming. Is it a rag tag rebel group? Is it a regime?

Dealing with rebel groups is more dangerous. The two of them would follow rebel groups back to bars where they hung out and drank. Overhearing conversations of the fights they would have, Winston and Maya would listen in carefully before stepping in. Gathering information. Debating on what they struggle with and how Winston and Maya could help. They would approach the men, making friendly conversations with them, asking them about their fights and listening to their stories. They would offer solutions for their combat issues, letting word of mouth find its way up the chain until the two of them could talk to more ranking officials within the rebel group. That is when they could strike a deal.

The other half of the story is figuring out how to supply their opposition. The longer you can prolong a fight, the more money an arms dealer can make. It's a guaranteed income. How does one supply a regime living in a larger more populous city? He would need to play hardball to even get near talking to anyone of importance. These people would be surrounded by guards 24/7. The only way that would work for him and Maya is blackmail. They would set these men up with prostitutes and using Winston's incredible photography skills, they would take pictures of them getting pegged by prostitutes. They would threaten these men with these pictures. The only thing Winston and Maya wanted was to speak to those above them. At that point, they could play the even harder game of selling weapons to hermit like regime leaders.

Winston and Maya were very successful with these trades, generating themselves income for years to come. They needed to expand if they ever wanted to make something of themselves. The two of them would look for ways to increase their supply and create demand, even if there wasn't a demand. They are not terrorists. Every conflict has an ebb and flow of munitions and expenses that they could fill the void of.

Often found daydreaming on a couch in the bunker, Winston's attraction towards Maya grew. She was a very attractive young lady. Winston found himself conflicted. During the later business trips around Africa, the Balkans, and South America a lot of the men they were selling arms to would be flirting with Maya. At first, Maya would brush off these advances, but later she started to play along with them. This created enticing encounters to help secure sales. On one hand, Winston encouraged this behavior for the sake of their business, but on the other, he had deepening emotions for Maya.

Winston would find that the structure of their business started to change. Maya would venture alone more often on sales trips, while Winston focused more on the logistical side of the business. He spent a lot of time crafting ways to smuggle weapons into countries. This time apart, in combination with his flirtation encouragement, and his love for Maya created a mental rift for him. A lot of lonely nights in the bunker left Winston sitting in his underwear, sitting cross legged in front of a TV, watching reruns, eating mac and cheese, and huffing whatever pressurized chemicals he had laying around.

Often Maya would come back to the bunker to find Winston unconscious on the floor, with a nosebleed with half his face in a bowl of food. She would wake him up, but Winston would only respond with incoherent ramblings about his love for her and how he felt about things. Maya tried her best to take care of him, while maintaining the business relations she had with overseas clients.

Winston would sometimes accompany Maya on sales trips. His mental anguish would begin to ruin relationships with their clients. Winston would make lewd comments, make obscene jokes that would ruin the mood, or speak his mind. One of these outbursts left him loosing his left testicle while trying to clear a squib load for a rifle he was selling someone. He was no longer sticking to his neutrality.

During one of Winston's inhalant trips, he had the bright idea to move to the United States. He wanted to build a massive bunker within the US. This would not only expand his clientele, it would also allow him to fly more under the radar than he already is. He would be hiding right under the nose of the biggest police force in the world. It was a genius idea. He wrote everything down on paper.

Maya had returned home from a long trip. Winston, sober, sat her down and they discussed the plan. The discussion turned more into an argument because Maya thought it was an incredibly stupid idea. She would need to live more in secrecy than she already does. The logistical nightmare of moving guns across the Atlantic would cost their business even more money. And the laws in the United States are a lot stricter than what they are experiencing now in Switzerland.

Winston's side of the argument was that they could use ships, submarines, and other sea vessels to move guns. None of these would be tracked. They would place their bunker in a remote part of the country, where there would be minimal oversight from local police. The laws would not apply to them as they would have each other's backs; if one of them were in trouble, the other would bust them out. Maya, with her attorney skills in combination with smuggling skills, could create fake identities for them and talk them out of court. Paying each other's bail and creating new identities. They haven't been caught since they started, why would they get caught now?

Maya wasn't happy but she went along with his idea. He was the man behind the business anyways, it's his call.

Winston smuggled himself into the United States through a shipping container. Through Maya, he had a few contacts within the United States that would help him get an identity there and some money so he could get his feet wet. Winston got a taxi from New York to Vermont. He had plenty of time in the confines of a cold cargo container to think about where he wanted to build this bunker. He chose Vermont due to its remote geography and small population. Once he landed in Vermont, he bought a small storage unit. This storage unit would serve as his temporary home. He walked to a local Walmart and bought a cot, along with some other supplies for him to live off.

Calling Maya, he was able to use one of his shell companies to buy an abandoned train station deep in the woods of Vermont. Winston also bought a small, foreclosed bowling alley a few towns over. Growing up Winston had a knack for bowling. He was rather good at it and always wanted to own his own bowling alley. He used this business to begin laundering money.

The project began. Months of digging, laying reinforced steel concrete, hundreds of feet below the train station became a very tedious task. They needed to preserve the train station, as well as build multiple exit points for the bunker within the station and around it. He needed a reinforced steel roof built over the top of the bunker so tree roots could not penetrate the concrete. At the end of the day, and millions of dollars later, the bunker was complete. The surrounding forest looked like nothing had happened.

The bunker contained several rooms. The floor plan for the entire bunker was about 2 square kilometers. The floor was a dark gray polished concrete. The walls were reclaimed barnwood planks. The ceiling was a typical drop ceiling for an office but colored black. The reason for the drop ceilings was to hide the HVAC system but create easy access if any part of it were to break. The ceiling contained life support systems, plumbing, electrical, fiber optic internet cables, and any other necessary wiring. Each room was 18 feet tall, granting Winston enough clearance to do whatever he needed to do.

One section of the bunker was a living quarter, which contained a bedroom, small bathroom, kitchen, and a living room. From the kitchen was a doorway for several larger rooms for storage, production, and shipping. There was a vehicle garage with a lift for working on vehicles. A large furnace room with a hot water heater. The entire bunker was run on a mix of hydrogen cells, geothermal electricity, as well as large power reverses.

The plan at this point was to lock up the old bunker and transport Maya to the new one. Maya had locked up the bunker and boarded a plane, passing through Burlington International Airport with a fake identity. Winston had his Volvo imported into the United States a few months prior, during construction. With fake plates, he was able to pick up Maya from the airport and bring her back to the new bunker.

Winston had given Maya a tour of the bunker. He showed her the cargo rooms, the production area, the garage, the kitchen, and then came to the bedroom. Maya had noticed that Winston only had one bed. Winston said it was to save space and money, so she could sleep with him in the bed. Maya was conflicted. She liked Winston, even crushed on him a little bit, but was a bit concerned as to why he only got one bed for her. She thought it was a little weird, but she went with it.

The first night became awkward. Winston realized how uncomfortable it was for them to be sleeping in the same bed. Especially since they weren't dating. He opted to sleep on the couch and to give her the bed. While on the couch, Winston couldn't sleep. He thought all night to himself about how he fucked this up. Nothing else in the bunker mattered except for Maya's personal space. Millions of dollars spent, and his stupid ass couldn't buy a second bed for her or build a room for her.

The morning came around. Maya had walked out into the living room to see if Winston was awake. Winston was sitting upright, he needed to talk to Maya. He apologized and deeply regretted his decision. He offered to buy her a small cabin in the woods near the bunker. Maya said it was okay and that he didn't need to do that. She accepted his apology and wanted to move on. She said he could sleep with her in the bed if he wished.

Winston went ahead and ordered a cabin to be built for Maya. For the next few months Winston and Maya would share the bed, things started to look a little better for Winston. She started to cuddle him at night, which he liked.

Maya had gone for another long trip down to South America to sell arms. Winston was jealous. He knew what might happen. He sat in the bunker, sitting on a work stool in the cargo bay. Holding a hand grenade in one hand, and the pin in the other. The man was extraordinarily frustrated. He loved Maya. He loved what they had going on. He also wanted to be the one to do the sales trips, but Maya wasn't as qualified as Winston for the logistical part of the business. Winston had a lot of regret in life, and it all came barreling down that night in the bunker. He didn't pull the pin. He got up, grabbed a can of carb cleaner, and walked over to his bed and cried. While crying, he forced himself to get high, just so he couldn't feel the pain.

Maya returned from the trip, once again to find Winston on the ground, passed out, covered in tears, blood, and carb cleaner. Maya was both frustrated with Winston but also worried about him. She did care about him, but he needed to stop with the inhalants. Winston woke up and confessed his love to Maya. Maya was a little taken back. On one hand she did like Winston, on the other hand, he comes with a lot of baggage. Maya helped Winston clean himself up. She was exhausted, she really wanted to focus on herself, but she felt as if she needed to take care of Winston.

Later that week the cabin was finished. Winston drove Maya out to go see it. She was absolutely thrilled with how it came out. It was small, had a basement, a hot tub out back, it was cute. It was perfect for her. She was so ecstatic and pleased with how the cabin came out, and it was all hers.

At this point, Maya had moved out of the bunker and lived in the cabin. She would often visit Winston in the bunker, especially for business related tasks. Winston was all alone again. This gave him ample time to ruminate about his past decisions, to really let his self-hatred soak in. Maya had obtained a lot of connections with the CIA and was selling guns to them for their own distribution purposes. This freaked Winston out.

Winston would often argue with Maya over her connections with the CIA. He became very skeptical, thinking that she was being black mailed by them to sell guns to them, or they would arrest her. He took this personally.

Winston and Maya shared all their business plans with each other. This was to bolster trust between them and create transparency for their business. Maya had planned to meet one of the CIA agents at a pier in Massachusetts. Winston, grabbing a .308 rifle, packed it in his Volvo and set up where Maya was meeting this man. Low and behold, the man begins to black mail her, as Winston thought. Trying to make a move on her, the mans body language only said one thing: I want you. Winston was enraged, he lined the sights over the center of mass for the man and took a shot. The lead connected with the man, causing him to stumble to the edge of the pier and fall in the water.

Winston got in his car and met up with Maya, saying he didn't appreciate the way that man approached her. Maya said she had the entire situation under control, and that Winston just killed a federal agent, and he was in deep shit. Maya went off the deep end, blowing up on him. She ended up driving off, not returning to either her cabin or the bunker.

For weeks, Maya had been ignoring Winston's phone calls. She finally called Winston, telling him that both their business relationship and friendship end there. She's done putting up with his antics, she didn't appreciate him stalking her, she didn't appreciate the awkward situations he had been putting her through for years, she's done kissing up to warlords to buy guns. She hung up on Winston without Winston saying a word.

What is the meaning of life? Winston sure as shit doesn't know anymore. Without Maya, Winston couldn't run the business by himself. It was too big to not fail. Winston would end up spending a lot of time traveling to other countries to sell guns. Unfortunately, he didn't have enough time to send them out. You can't simply hire another person to work for a gun running business. Coming across Maya is a once in a lifetime opportunity that he blew out of the water.

Winston would see his own gun running business come to a screeching halt. Between the stress of losing his best friend, the stress of a multitude of angry clients, his past haunting him, the addiction taking over his mind. He snapped. He couldn't comprehend living like this anymore.

The business shut down, everyone with outstanding orders was refunded. His website went offline. Winstons gun running business was now officially dead in the water. Winston had taken a few weeks for himself to really collect himself. To figure out who he was.

His name was Winston Wardell. Supposedly 35 years old. He was a man with a deep-rooted past of trauma. A man with a crippling addiction to inhalants. He was a man who had lost his best friend due to his own inappropriate behavior. He was a man currently on a path of self-destruction that could only end one way. He needed change.

Several months went by. Winston was trying his hardest to go cold turkey with drugs. It seemed to be working. On his way back from Rhode Island, he noticed two people on the side of the road trying to hitchhike. Winston, on the path of redemption, pulled over. He knew it was risky to pick up hitchhikers, but at this point in life, what more does he have to lose?

Winston had been running his bowling alley business. Although it was a dead-end business, it was something to keep his mind occupied. It got him out of the bunker and away from passively ruminating. Therapy had also been helping him out, he had a dedicated therapist that would listen to him. He could vent about the past life that he lived, how it affected him. How he lost so much.

The woman and a child ran up to the passenger side of his car. Winston gladly picked them up. He learned that their names were Isabel and Raul. Isabel was an immigrant from Uruguay that was trying to travel north to Vermont. She had spilled her story about how she was smuggled through South America, through the Caribbean Sea, and escaped customs and border protection agents at the border. Winston smirked, he understood where she was coming from as Maya had a similar story. He did not vocalize this though. Winston had also smuggled himself into the United States. Everyone, including the car, was illegal. This didn't phase Winston at all. He felt empathetic towards them and wanted to help.

Winston had taken them to get some food as they were very hungry. He even drove them all the way to their grandmother's house in Vermont. Winston went even farther, buying a small trailer home for Isabel, a car, and granting her a monthly stipend to help her get started in the States. He even went as far as to help Isabel get a job to support her little brother. Winston did not want anything in return, he wanted to do a good deed without feeling indebted.

Isabel found Winston to be incredibly funny, lovely, and cheerful. With time, Winston confided to her about his past. How muddy it was, how he wasn't a great person at all. But anyone can change, and he was putting in the effort to make those changes happen. Winston didn't want to be a drugged up shitbag anymore. He wanted to keep those he appreciated around. Isabel found his change to be very inspiring and admirable. Isabel would be found hanging out with Winston almost every day since.

Months had gone by, and Winston pulled the trigger. He had bought a ring. He knocked on Isabel's front door, got on one knee, and proposed to her. Isabel was taken back. She was not prepared for that question at all, they never had any talks about marriage prior to that. Her silence fueled Winston's anxiety. Isabel told Winston that she needed to think about it. She went for a walk in the woods and gave it a lot of thought.

A month later, Winston and Isabel were at a town hall signing their marriage certificate. Isabel would move into the bunker with Winston. The bunker was now a shell of what it used to be. No more tanks, creates of weapons stacked to the ceiling, pallets of ammo cans, everything was gone. The bunker was quiet, warm, and peaceful. Something that Isabel could get adjusted to.

Years later, Winston went to take Isabel and Raul out shooting one day. Deep in the Vermont woods, Winston brought his most prized rifle. A custom .338 lapua rifle with a rosewood stock, with a personally forged barrel and lower receiver. This rifle could only take specially hand loaded rounds. Winston had set up the rifle at the top of an old, abandoned fire watch tower. Isabel and Raul sat behind him, a mile down the path, he aimed at a lake. He wanted them to see the giant ripple across the water that the round would make. Maybe even have Raul take a few shots.

Winston looked down the scope, took a deep breath, and slowly pulled the trigger. There was a bright flash of light. The rifle's barrel had split in two. Winston lay slumped over most of the rifle. Half of his face was blown open. His magnificent hair singed. Blood splatted across the deck of the fire watch. A light gurgle came from what was his mouth.

Isabel, screaming, looked around. They had no cell signal out there. They couldn't contact anyone to help them. Isabel and Raul would have to resort to dragging Winston down the stairs of the fire watch. Leaving a trail of blood down the old wooden stairs. They rested him in the back of his Volvo. Isabel grabbed the keys and drove off.

Isabel, driving down the road, did not cry. She simply looked straight forward and drove. Winston, still gurgling, was able to say few words.

“Where did it all go wrong?”