I cared for the old man day and night. I loved him. He had the eye of a vulture, though, and it troubled me so. I knew then I had to kill him. I am not mad, a mad man knows nothing, you should have seen the way I watched him! No mad man could do it as stealthily as I!
For the next eight days until I killed him, I was the kindest I could be to him. He wouldn't suspect a thing! Every night at about midnight I came into his room and shone my lantern, perhaps by instinct, onto his vulture eye, but it was always closed. on the eighth night, I was extra careful, but I laughed softly. as I opened the latch to the lantern, my fingers slipped. The old man's eyes opened and he sat up, saying "Who's there?" and giving a cry of mortal terror. I killed him, dismembered his body and hid the parts under the floor boards, before the police arrived. I was sure they didn't suspect a thing, but I thought they were mocking my terror and knew what I had done. I was sure of it! Why would they not leave? I cried "villains!" and opened up the floorboards. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy.
One of the neighbours reported a scream. can we come in?