TRUE!—NERVOUS—VERY, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses—not destroyed—not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily—how calmly I can tell you the whole story.
I don't know when the idea came. But suddenly I wanted to kill the old man. I did not want his movey or house, it was his eye.He had the eye of avulture—a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so bydegrees—very gradually—I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eyeforever.
With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once—once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done.
Why is there a beating heart!! Also what if they find out about me.
The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country.
A neighbor said that they heard a scream
“Villains!” I shrieked, “dissemble no more! I admit the deed!—tear up the planks! here, here!—It is the beating of his hideous heart!”