<word> = accent the word(s) inside

I am not mad. I am not mad or crazy, although                    say that I am. It is not my fault, only the old man's. No, it is more of his eyes' fault. His sharp, glaring, eagle eyes.

I tried to control myself. But I just can't. it is too hard for me. It  <leers> at me every single moment of my life. When I eat, whenever I entertain myself, even during my <sleep>! I can't avoid it, I just can't. I can't stop thinking about it, it filled my mind at every single moment of my life. The deep, blue eye. It stared at me in the deepest of my heart and the deepest of my nightmares. Never blinked, <never> let go. It had driven me to the extent that I can't bear it anymore. People say that I have no self-control because I can't stop thinking about the eyes. But that stare will drive any sane man insane. It seeks you out, and it will haunt you.

The old man has always been nice to me, but his eyes ruined the kindness he showed. Deep in his eyes, I saw horrible and hideous things that made me shake and sent down chills through my spine. One night, I decided to end it, once and for all, this torture that I had suffered for eternity, and decades more if I don't get rid of it now.

From that time on, I would enter the old man's room, every single night, at midnight exactly. I took great caution not to cause a single sound and not a single disturbance. Every single night, I would stare at the old man. How kind and peaceful the old man looked with his eyes closed. I couldn't describe, using words, how relieved I felt at that time. How I want to scream because of my great joy, his eagle eyes <shut>.

No, I musn't abandom my mission and my great cause, to end this evil, once and for all. Every night, I would retreat to the safety of my bed. In a comfort, I had never had before in my whole life, I must savor it, I told myself, before the morning comes and all my sufferings had to start again.

Finally, after a whole week of anxious and uncomfortable wait, there came the seventh night. That night, the old man kindly cooked me my favorite bean chili. I felt joyed, because I was about to complete my important mission. I was confident, <empowered>, <INSPIRED> by the food.

That night as I went into the bedrooms, of the old man, I executed my perfect plot, I used a gigantic tome to smash the old man into pieces, and buried him inside the floorboards, and perfect hiding spot where nobody can ever suspect that there is a body inside.

The next morning, the police came because they heard reports of loud screams from the neighbors. I grew so confident that I led them in and chatted casually with them. However, as we were chatting, a loud gurgling sound made its remark from deep within my stomach, It grew louder and louder, and as it grew I spoke faster and faster until I can't speed up no more. Then, a gigantic explosion took place in the sitting room, shook the house, and ripping open the floorboards, under which my hideous crimes were concealed.