Squidward sat on his couch, his eyes fixed on the TV as he watched the news report about the dead fish family. He knew he was the one who had killed them, and he couldn't believe what he had done. He felt a sense of fear and guilt wash over him, and he knew he had to do something to fix it.

But as he tried to think of a solution, the voices in his head grew louder and louder. They told him to do terrible things, to hurt and destroy. Squidward tried to resist, but he couldn't. The voices were too powerful.

In a fit of rage, Squidward stood up and started tearing apart his living room. He smashed the TV, ripped apart the couch, and trashed everything in sight. He couldn't control himself, and he knew he was going to pay for what he had done.

As he destroyed his house, Squidward let out a primal scream. He was overwhelmed with fear and guilt, and he knew he couldn't escape it. He had done something terrible, and he couldn't take it back.

When he was finished, Squidward collapsed on the floor, surrounded by the wreckage of his home. He knew he had to face the consequences of his actions, and he knew it wouldn't be easy.

But as he stood up, the voices in his head started speaking again. They told him not to do it, that he was better off hiding and running away. They convinced him that he would be fine, that he didn't have to face the music.

Squidward hesitated, torn between his conscience and the voices. He knew he had to do the right thing, but he was afraid of what would happen if he turned himself in. He didn't know if he could handle it.

Just as he was about to make a decision, he heard a knock at the door. Squidward froze, wondering who it could be. He cautiously made his way to the door and looked through the peephole.

It was Spongebob. Squidward's heart sank. He knew he had been rude to Spongebob before, and he wasn't sure if Spongebob would forgive him. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Hi Squidward," Spongebob said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "I got some of your mail, and I thought I'd bring it over. I hope you don't mind."

Squidward shook his head, feeling guilty. "No, I don't mind. Thank you for bringing it."

Spongebob smiled and handed Squidward the mail. "Is everything okay?" he asked, noticing the trashed living room. "It looks like something happened here."

Squidward hesitated, not sure how to respond. He knew he had to tell Spongebob the truth, but he was afraid of what would happen. He took a deep breath and blurted out the whole story.

But as Squidward spoke, he realized that Spongebob wasn't really there. It was just his imagination. He was still alone, with no one to confide in.

Feeling defeated, Squidward sat back down on the floor and buried his face in his hands. He knew he had to turn himself in, but he didn't know how. He was afraid of what would happen if he did.

As he sat there, Squidward knew he had to make a choice. He had to decide whether to face the consequences of his actions or run and hide. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he was ready to take the risk. He stood up and walked to the police station, ready to turn himself in. He knew it was the right thing to do, and he was prepared to face whatever came his way.

Squidward walked to the police station, his mind filled with fear and anxiety. He knew he had to turn himself in, but he was terrified of what would happen. He was afraid of the consequences, and he didn't know if he could handle them.

As he walked down the street, he didn't notice the car speeding towards him. He was too focused on his thoughts, and he didn't see the danger until it was too late.

The car hit Squidward with a sickening thud, and he felt his body fly through the air. He hit the ground with a loud crack, and everything went black.

When he woke up, Squidward was in a hospital bed. His body was broken and bruised, and he was in a lot of pain. But it was the voices in his head that were the worst. They were telling him to go berserk, to kill and destroy. They were urging him to let go of his control, and Squidward was starting to give in.

He looked around the hospital room, feeling a sense of rage and hatred wash over him. He saw the nurses and doctors moving around, and he knew he had to stop them. He had to kill them all.

Squidward stood up, feeling a sense of power wash over him. He knew he could do it. He could take them all down.

He started attacking the nurses and doctors, his tentacles lashing out and tearing them apart. He didn't stop until they were all dead.

When he was finished, Squidward ran out of the hospital, his mind filled with madness and hatred. He knew he had to keep running, to keep killing. He couldn't stop until he had destroyed everything in his path.

As he ran through the streets of Bikini Bottom, Squidward knew he had become a monster. He had given in to the voices in his head, and he had become something he never thought he could be. He knew he had to keep running, to keep hiding. He couldn't let anyone find him.

Squidward kept running, his mind filled with darkness and hatred. He knew he could never go back, and he knew he could never be forgiven. He was a monster, and he knew he would always be one.