Locked In Silence Novels & Stories

Franklyn’s silence spoke volumes, confirming what Adler had suspected all along. Without hesitation, Adler pulled Franklyn into his arms and pressed his lips against his in a sudden, fervent kiss that left the younger man stunned. Franklyn’s eyes widened in shock, his hands instinctively pressing against Adler’s chest in an attempt to push him away. But Adler’s grip was firm, unyielding.

Suddenly, an awkward silence enveloped us all, suffocating the room as if time itself had frozen. The weight of the unspoken truth hung heavily in the air. The betrayal, evident in Brenda's intimate garment, felt like a slap across my metaphorical face. As Jude and Jade struggled to find words, the silence became a chasm of uncertainty, each passing second amplifying the intensity of the emotions swirling within me.

She was no longer the Irene who lived in a storage room and swallowed every hurt in silence. She was no longer his Irene.

She didn’t know then that some silences weren’t empty. They were waiting. Waiting for the moment they could break everything open.

But with each passing day, these whispers became louder, more persistent, making it harder for her to ignore them. Jane's silent love for Mike was a ticking time bomb, a storm brewing beneath the calm surface. Each laugh, each conversation, and each shared moment added to the intensity of her feelings, pushing her closer to the edge. As she stood on the brink of this emotional turmoil, Jane was about to embark on an extraordinary journey - a journey of love, of unspoken confessions, and of silent whispers of longing. Her story was just beginning. This was her story - the story of a girl who loved her best friend in silence, the story of silent whispers of love.

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.

No one knew when it could reopen. Benjamin approached, wanting to offer some words of comfort, but nothing came. He, who could speak circles around anyone in business, now stood helpless and mute in front of her. Before he could speak, Nissa lifted her phone. Her eyes were dull, expression gray. On the screen was a single sentence. "Did you do this?" Benjamin froze. She suspected him? He could not believe it. A wave of cold ran through his chest, his heart gripped by grief, anger, and emptiness.

He walked to the sitting room and sat in the dark. I watched him from the doorway. He didn't eat and neither did he utter a word. He just sat there with a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring at nothing. The amber liquid caught the faint light from the window, glinting like a warning. His fingers were wrapped around the glass, knuckles white, as if he was trying to hold onto something that kept slipping away. The silence stretched between us. Heavy. Charged. Instead of leaving him alone, something pulled me to him. It was the way he held himself—like he was holding something together by sheer force of will. Like if he let go for even a moment, everything would shatter.

I knew what it was like to want to tell someone something desperately, and not being able to make a sound. My muteness cost me my voice. Fear cost Nora hers. But we were safe now. Kyle was gone. Wasn’t he?

Wren sat frozen beside us, the ledger clutched so tight against her chest that her knuckles had gone white even in the dim light filtering weakly through the cracks of the hidden latch above. Then, gradually, the sounds of fighting began to thin. Fewer voices. Fewer clashes of steel. And finally, a silence that felt different from the terrified stillness we'd been holding — a silence that felt, somehow, like the end of something rather than the terrible pause before more violence. Footsteps approached the latch above us, slow and heavy, and I braced myself, ready to press myself over Lena's small body one final time if it came to that. The latch lifted.