He had killed a poor old man because of the fact that he thought that his eye was an… “Evil Eye”… at least that’s what he muttered to himself. He called it a few names. “Evil Eye”, “Vulture Eye”, etc. He had stared into the old man’s room, quietly waiting in his walls so that he could kill him when he had the chance. He never had anything against the man, but had a deep hatred for the eye.

One night, after he had snuck in, you heard a loud shriek. You had no idea what had been going on next door, and knew someone would call the cops soon. You found that curiosity got the best of you, and you knocked on the door. With a cheerful smile, he had opened the door confidently.