After The Silence 1996 Novels & Stories

The silence after chaos was worse than the chaos itself. At least during the attack, there had been noise—gunshots, shouting, movement. Something to focus on. Something to react to. Now? Nothing. Just the aftermath. I stood in the middle of the hall, my body still frozen, my mind struggling to catch up with everything that had just happened.

----------------- “Savvie? Savvie? Hello, hello—are you there? I can see you and you’re just standing there. I am waving at you right now... Savvie, have I mistaken you for a human being or are you a really hot store mannequin?” He heard her laugh. Aha. Keep going, Matt told himself. Recover from the terrible joke. “Or part of some performance thing like that guys like me don’t understand? Because I really don't understand the silence. I'm getting a little bit freaked out" he said. She suddenly folded and bent over laughing. He breathed a sigh of relief. Sweet! He thought. Good thing he hadn't pissed her off with that stupid joke from hell.

When she was here trying to get close to him and get his trust. The man sat in silence, his eyes downcast and his mind lost in a labyrinth of thoughts. The air around him was heavy with unspoken words, suffocating in their weight. He had come to this prison seeking silence, not to be bothered by a stupid genius therapist. The silence caressed their skins like a cool summer breeze, smoothing their souls, and taking away her jagged edges. It had been one hell of a rough day. He was still looking at the white ceiling ignoring all her tries. "Aah," she sighed and began walking towards him until she found herself stopped in front of him.

Her silence. But now she had slipped out of his grasp, and Damien Hale did not tolerate disobedience. Or loss. Not even of a woman he never truly loved. A chill ran along her spine. She sat up, unable to lie still any longer. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that hurt her ears, made her skin crawl. She left the bedroom and moved into the small living room, pulling the curtains tightly shut. Her pulse settled slightly once she did. Then…

*****************************POV: Claire********************** --- There’s a certain kind of silence that doesn’t feel safe. Not the comfortable, blanket-wrapped kind that comes after a long day. Not the sweet, post-rain hush where everything smells like earth and renewal. No, this silence is sharp. Like a knife held just out of view. And that morning, it followed me.

At the DeLuca Family banquet announcing its new advisor, Matteo said he was going to end nine years of secrecy and finally acknowledge our relationship in public. I stood in the back row of the banquet hall, so nervous I'd crumpled my prepared speech into a ball. Over nine years, I'd cleaned up the port books for him three times, negotiated two cross-border shipping routes, and taken a bullet for him. Everyone knew the DeLuca Family had a female advisor who never showed her face, but no one knew I was that woman. I thought that after tonight, I would finally stop being his shadow. Until the screen at the front of the banquet hall lit up. There was no photo of us. Instead, there was only a si

"Let the sunshine find us" Silence envelopes the whole room, suffocating silence. I could feel waves of anger, radiating from Ophelia, it was too much to bear. The intensity was beyond a regular person's reaction. I peer at her, through my tear-soaked eyelashes. She wasn't moving from her seat, staring blankly into space. I could feel the wheels in her head rotating, the reality sinking in, the pain unfolding. "Tell me your lying." She finally whispered. I stay silent, scared of her outburst.

SUMMER TROUBLES I slowly walked down the dark hallway. Mesmick suddenly emerged from the shadows running pass me. “Mesmick!” I yelled but he didn’t stop running. The hallway got narrower and narrower until I could no longer see him. Suddenly a loud baby cry shot up from nowhere rapidly taking me back to the 28 of October. It was an afternoon, a cold rainy afternoon to be exact. Plot had accompanied me. I was scared alright but he had assured me that I was going be okay. With that blood on the sheets and bloody tools on the drawer beside me I was sure I was not okay.

He had given the perfume to Emily instead. I picked up the cold bottle, feeling it chill my already frosty heart. Even though I knew Charles did not care for me, seeing him go to those lengths for Emily still hurt. I handed the perfume back to him. "I lost my taste for perfume three years ago," I said, my voice steady. "I'll keep your secret, but you owe me the truth about one thing." Charles looked puzzled, a frown creasing his forehead. "What's that?" I met his eyes, holding his gaze firmly. "The plane crash, three years back. Is there something you're not telling me?"

Breakfast was protein bars and silence so thick it felt like another person in the room. Someone occupying the fourth corner of their loose triangle, eating without speaking, making the air heavier just by being there. The silence of the aftermath. Of words that couldn't be taken back and actions that couldn't be undone and the specific grinding work of figuring out what you do with the morning after both. It wasn't a comfortable silence. It wasn't the silence of people who had nothing left to say. It was the silence of people who had too much and had not yet decided which parts were safe to say out loud and which parts would only make the damage worse.