The Tell-Tale Heart Page #2

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way back to the late 1800s.

House was commissioned by a young

fella named Arthur Harris.

When he passed away,

his son redid the decor

and introduced the bust

of Edward Mordrake.

He supposedly had a face

at the back of his head.

It would cry and whisper things

to him while he tried to sleep.

What happened to him'? Who,

Edward or young master Harris'?

Both I guess.

Well, strangely,

their fate was the same.

They both killed themselves.

But these stories

are better saved

for when a better

light can be seen

and the hour is not so late.

Easy there. Now, don't worry.

It's not gonna bite.

Promise you,

it never hurt anybody.

I'm sorry, I, uh...

Don't think anything of it.

Go on, get some rest.

We have a lot of work to do.

Good night.

Good night.

Now, this is the point.

You fancy me mad.

Madmen know nothing.

But you should've seen me.

You should've seen

how wisely I proceeded,

with what caution,

with what foresight,

with what dissimulation

I went to work.

You can relax.

Relax.

How could anyone relax

under this scrutiny?

Constant questions,

distrusting glances.

The truth is here.

You will see how it unfolds.

You will see

my insanity is intact.

And I will end this.

I knew I could

not be alone in this.

That would be just too cool.

Help was always

just out of reach.

Just out of focus.

Sh*t.

I craved any escape.

Anything that

would dull my senses.

Anything that

would let me taste freedom.

Just a glimpse of a new start.

Or an end.

No!

Only here,

only in my blissful numb fog

could I dare to hope,

pray that she will come again.

Pray that she?! show me

the way out.

Oh, my love, I did this for you.

I've paid this price for us.

To purchase our escape

from the hell that torments me,

that torment's us.

I will not break.

Too many pieces taken.

Too many pieces of me torn away.

Too many pieces of my heart!

Beaten, stolen,

broken.

Sean.

Jesus.

Now, calm down.

It was just a dream.

Calm down.

I don't rightly recall bourbon

being the recommended

treatment for memory loss.

Matter of fact, it's most

often used to forget,

although with limited success.

On a more serious note,

this will cause you to forget

everything, eventually, Sean.

This mixed with your pills

could kill you.

I couldn't sleep. Well, it's my

own fault for leaving it here.

I'll take the blame this time,

but no more drinking.

Come down

when you feel up to it.

What time is it'?

You slept most of the day

away already, Sean,

but the evening is still open.

We still have a lot

of work to do.

I need coffee.

So, you must be the new

meat for the grinder.

Excuse me'?

You gonna get that'?

Nah, I was waiting for it

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