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That eye, I really hope it doesn't look at me.
He looks very peaceful.
I loved the old man like he was my own father.
There must be someone in here.
I took care of him. But, there was something, perhaps his eye, which frightened me to the core.
Every night, I would stealthily go into his room and watch him sleep. And every night, I would open my lamp so that it would shine upon his eye.
On the eighth night, as I was about to open the lamp, my finger slipped and woke the old man.
I waited for an hour, until I opened the lamp and saw the eye. I had to act. The old man screamed once, and I pulled the blanket over him.
Once the heart stopped beating, I checked the body. He was dead. First I dismembered the old man, for easy concealment.
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