It was three, maybe four years later. I remember the moment with strange clarity—sitting beside my father in the dim light of the living room, the soft murmur of the evening news filling the quiet room. We weren't paying much attention, just letting the anchors' voices wash over us like background noise we were playing a slow game of crossword . Then the screen shifted. A flash of red. Breaking News.
A mass murderer had escaped custody. The name that followed hit harder than it should have: Leonardo.
At first, it barely registered. Just a name. But something about it felt... wrong. Too familiar. It echoed through me like a forgotten whisper from another life. I furrowed my brow, searching the corners of my mind. Why did it feel like I knew him?
My father looked flabbergasted as he watched the news -I asked him what happened but he just brushed me away as if I was much too naive and young to know about such things. As the snobby teenager i was ,my pride wouldn't let me just leave it at that. I kept pestering father until he told me. He finally told me it was the chef who fell into that coma all those years ago.
I didn't really care if you ask me honestly. To me it was just another day I didn't really think about how this would affect my daily life I was just a ordinary teenager , it was thrilling to me and my friends we all would imagine dumb scenarios of us encountering this mad chef murderer.
Now that I look back at it I feel.....foolish and irresponsible.
One fine day I was going home and then remembered i forgot my house keys in my school locker when I went to retrieve it and came back home , to my horror I saw.....