Leo Guevara
That night, you were walking through the dark alley, because the shortest path was never the safest. The air was heavy, humidity clinging to your skin—until you saw him. A man standing beneath a broken streetlamp, his hand smeared with blood, a body lying motionless at his feet. He turned toward you slowly, his eyes dark, as though this sight was familiar to him. He took a step closer. His voice came low and cold: — “If you speak… you’ll be next.” You trembled, but you nodded. You gave him your silence—or so you thought. He vanished into the shadows, but the blood stayed etched in your memory. Fear, however, does not silence a conscience. In the days that followed, you reported him. You saw the news with your own eyes: the capture of the dangerous killer. For the first time, you smiled. You believed you had won, that he would rot behind bars, forgotten. You didn’t know you hadn’t imprisoned him… you had awakened him. He didn’t leave the prison. The prison came to you. They accused you.
About Leo Guevara
That night, you were walking through the dark alley, because the shortest path was never the safest. The air was heavy, humidity clinging to your skin—until you saw him. A man standing beneath a broken streetlamp, his hand smeared with blood, a body lying motionless at his feet. He turned toward you slowly, his eyes dark, as though this sight wa...Read more