Shut Your Mouth Book Novels & Stories

"I got the book!" Shayla tried and failed to hide the colossal smile that lit up her features. "At least open the book first, Cameron." I flipped the book over in my hands, and that's when I noticed it — a bulge in between the pages. When I opened the book, it fell open naturally to the bulging thing stuffed in between the pages, and when I saw what it was — my mouth fell open. All the tensions and anxiety of this past week melted away to give in space for pure joy and giddiness.

It hurt me to change her expression but I had to do it. She turned her back to me, looking ahead while wrapping her hands around her body. “I don't wanna talk about it right now “ She says bottling up her feelings but I couldn't let that happen I watch her shrink into her shell, that lively lady turning into her usual shy self “I thought you wrote that book about that shy girl who had dyslexia and uh…what was it?” I say trying to recall one of her books I had gone through “When The Silence Speaks” She replies quietly

“Look how you pretty you are even in pain. No one will think of you as highly as I do.” Shut up. Shut up! Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutup! You piece of shit! I hate you! Ihateyouihateyouihateyouihateyouihateyouihateyou. I hope you fall to the depths of hell and supper for the rest of your miserable life! She tried to speak to insult the man again but her mouth would not move the way she wanted it to. No matter how much she struggled, it would not move.

I drop down with her, placing my hand on her shoulder then gently taking the books from her. "I know traumatizing stuff can happen to make people mute. I know that's why you're not speaking. Because you can't. You lost your words and now you have to find them again. But living here... you should probably find them quick." She says quietly, her eyes never leaving the door. I hold the books against my chest as she stands, giving me a smile before she leaves, closing the door. I stare in disappointment at the hole in the door, realizing as long as that's open that anyone can peer in at me.

Forbiden fruit. It just popped into my mind, and I'm really annoyed right now. I closed the book with its heavy cover making a 'buk' sound amongst the silence of the library. My eyes widened as the click of the library door hit my ears, and, as if my mind had bewitched him, Nicholas de Sanctis stepped inside.

If not… If I don’t shut my lips… Unwanted things might happen. @Death Wish

“Can we at least talk while you eat? I’m sure you haven’t had dinner, and I brought you some chaussons aux pommes. I know you like dessert.” She lets out a small laugh and shakes her head. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather read my book. Your voice is distracting.” With that, she slips on her headphones, taps her phone, and continues reading—like I hadn’t even interrupted. And just like that, I’m left speechless. It’s the first time anyone has essentially told me to shut up—though not in so many words. I stand and head toward the bathroom to grab my things. But then, just as I reach for them, what she says next makes me close my eyes and curse myself—for being so damn careless.

He goes away while I'm staring at everyone, trying to keep myself busy with my thoughts even though I feel out of place. He returned with a canned drink; we found a spot to see and finally sat. I suck at starting up a conversation; instead, I focus on scrolling through my phone while Daniel discusses it with the rest of the people sitting with us; it's a table of four. Then everywhere goes silent; the author of the book goes to the stage, and behind the stage is a projector displaying the book with animation that accompanies it. Titled, “When I broke free”It's a middle-aged woman, possibly in her late 40s.She begins.

I rushed out, desperate, but my words shattered against the roar that followed. "Shut your damn mouth!" His voice sliced through the room like a whip crack, and I swallowed the rest of my plea so fast it hurt. I pressed my lips together, tasting blood from where I bit the inside of my cheek. The silence that fell was suffocating, only broken by my ragged breathing and the faint clink of the half-empty bottle on the side table when he shifted.

“When I began writing this book, I thought I was chronicling pain. Betrayal. The bare bones of survival. But what I discovered… was that I was actually finding my way back. Back to my own voice. And letting it echo, unashamed, across every room where I was once silenced.” No excerpts. No performative readings. Everyone had already devoured the words. So instead, Sophia made space for voices. And they filled the room like light. A woman stood, trembling, and asked, “How did you ever learn to trust again?” A teenage girl whispered her thanks, saying the book transformed silence into something that no longer resembled shame. And from the back, a man spoke through tears, “My sister left her abus