myAnswer:
"- the beating of his hideous heart!" The officers -obviously surprised from my sudden outburst of pure frustration- reached for me, and instead of fighting back, I gave in. For I would not mind leaving this god forsaken house!
I was held in custody for several long days, SILENT long days, until they released me. When I asked why, they had told me nothing was under my floor boards but dirt and dust. My eyes went wide, the body -the 'stone dead' body WAS there- the body was buried under the floor upon which stool rested on! It WAS. That was 4 months ago.
I kept telling people -everyone, ANYONE- that I killed the man, & he was under those boards. I would scream and yell at those who doubted me when I said the man followed me, I see him everywhere I go. As for those who doubt I hear that beating of his old tired heart, I raged to them, "How is it you are so ignorant to such a hideous noise?" But no longer do I have to deal with such fools, for I was moved to a new house with people who understand burdens and carry similar ones. The rooms are white, as well as our attire. We are served 3 standard meals a day, and do small activities with one another. I would tell you I am perfectly fine, the vulture's eye burdens me no more, yes, but then -only then- would I be lying. I thought confessing would stop the old man from following me, stop his blue-gray eye from staring, stop that heart of his from beating. No. He never ceased. Even when I was sent to the asylum, he followed me everywhere. During the day, he would observe -from near & far- and spoke few words. During the evening, he would lurk on the opposite side of the room, and watch me. I would turn my back and avert my gaze from his, but I felt his gaze burning into my back. The vulture eye just staring. You make think that made me most furious but no, what made me most furious was I could constantly hear the muffled heart beat. Not loud, nor quiet, but evident in its presence. He would trick me now and then, making the beating slow, or even stop it as if he were leaving. I would sigh a sigh of grateful relief, then he would mock me and laugh, continuing his heart once more. Oh, how I wished the man's heart to stop! I had killed him, he was gone, yet he stands here, laughing, heart beating.
Fine, if his heart won't stop, mine shall.
Explanation:
I looked this up and this seems to be what you are looking for.
