They say I am mad, but listen to this, listen to how I tell this story so healthily with such calmness
Now, you see the old man and I were friends. But I knew I needed to kill him. What was it? His eye, yes! He had the pale blue eye of a vulture, an evil eye. I needed to get rid of it.
Every night for seven days around midnight I opened his door oh so gently and shone down a single ray of light upon the eye, and it closed. Now would a madman be this smart?
It was not until day eight, the final day, that the old man heard me. He sat up in his bed, unable to see in the darkness. I waited hours for him to lay back down, but he never did.
I threw him on the ground and put the bed on top of him. He screamed, but I was sure nobody heard. I skillfully cut off his limbs and hid them in the floor planks. The eye was gone. Minutes later there was a knock on the door.
It was police. They were perfectly friendly and asked about the scream, I told them it was nothing and let them look around. They even sat for drinks. But I kept hearing this noise, this beating. The old mans heart. It was driving me mad. Did they hear it? I went so insane, and then I confessed. I had to.