Sequel to Tell Tale Heart

[chewnicorn]

So we had to write a sequel to Edgar Allan Poe's "Tell Tale Heart" and I wanted to know how mine is.
Please do not comment on it if you have no idea what the heck "The Tell Tale Heart" is, because then have of the story would not make sense.
COMMENTS/CRITIQUE WELCOME!!!
Enjoy!


Such dread! “Why do you mock me!” I yell and thrust myself across the room. The men in blue jump, surprised at this, “Why notice me now? Listen to the beating of his heart!” I scream and bang my head against the floor, trying to hear the faintest of sounds of his heart. “Take me away!” I yell still straining to hear the heart. I face the floor, “Where did you go?!” I scream, “Where are you, you treacherous thing!” I stomp my feet upon the ground, throwing a tantrum, like a young child. I knew the heart was under the floorboards, it just didn’t want to admit it. “ Don’t cower from these men, you wretched fiend!” I cry, ear against the floor scratching off thin layers of wood from the ground, my fingertips bloody. “Dear God! Help me rid this horrible thing, this revolting heart!” By the time I peeled away a good amount of wood, the police had begun to drag me away into a silver box with metal bars. My new home. My death bed.
“Curse you!” I scream, pacing back and forth, leaving a thick, red trail behind me. I stare coldly out the steel bars and hear a faint drumming. A pounding. A beating- no the beating of the old man’s hideous, hideous heart. “It’s the heart!” I shriek, gripping the bars, tighter, turning my knuckles white. “Stop it!” I yell trying to block out this disgusting noise. “Stop it, please! I beg of you!” But the heart’s beating roared on and I couldn’t bear it any longer. I screamed and yelled to block out the wicked noise.
Nothing was working and the heart beat louder. I grabbed the gravel from the floor I was sitting on and forced it into my ears. Through my bloody eardrums, debris, and my blood-curdling screams, I could still hear the heart, clear as day. I shook my head letting the gravel fall out, gripped my ears, and fell to my knees, begging, crying for it to stop. The heart’s beating grew it’s loudest and I couldn’t take it anymore. “End me now!” I pleaded, the heart’s petrifying pulse piercing my ears. Then I suddenly stopped screaming and I heard something else emerging from underneath. Something far worse.
It was another beating, pounding, drumming. It was another heart. The old man did not have two hearts, this I know of, but the heart was another being’s. It belonged to me. It grew louder and faster as I placed my hand on my chest. The beat rapidly grew fast almost impatient with my usual slow beat. As if all of a sudden, I collapsed, dead. They say I died of a heart attack. They say I was insane. But as I have reassured you I’m not mad. I, as boy was not mad, but the moment I fell on the cold stone floor I knew I had officially become mad. After that revelation I realized who really killed me. The man.
The old man and his vulture eye made me go insane. He is the true murderer, not me. He’s the one who drove me insane in that vile place. He’s the one who killed someone. I never killed, only disposed of something that belonged in hell-the vulture eye. I did not deserve this untimely fate. But it is all over and I now must reside in this nothingness of a place they call, “The Afterlife“. Sadly, I have not rid of the evil eye, it watches me as I roam this empty lot… and the heart. Oh, the heart. That thing’s awful, foul beating still occupies my mind. Forever.