Silent Patient Characters Novels & Stories

Sometimes he fakes being mad just so I could leave him alone and sometimes he gets mad for real, but I knew how to sort things out with him. "You better sleep now, Shea. Because I'm going to wake you up every hour." "What? You can't do that." "Oh!" He cackled. "I can, you know damn well that I can." "Well, you better not." I said quietly. My eyes shut slowly, I caught Dylan watching me like a predator waiting for its prey to be completely helpless. Dylan wouldn't do that, he was a good guy. -- "Hey." I felt someone tap on my shoulder.

Ripped something vital out of me and left behind fire. The place where Lucian and Damian once marked me still throbs. Twin wounds that were once symbols of devotion, now nothing more than scars waiting to fade. On my right, I finally notice Silas. He’s seated in a worn leather chair, one leg crossed over the other, a book resting open in his lap. He hasn’t noticed I’m awake. He’s focused on the pages in front of him, head tilted slightly, expression calm—too calm for someone who dragged me out of a battlefield.

What exactly is he thinking? He took cautious steps back, eyeing the strange character being displayed in front of him. Dylan shot him a smile that glued his legs to the ground right before he closed up the space between them. ^^I'll leave after I help you out. Don't make a sound unless you want my mom to kill you.^^ **Like that's ever a problem. And don't come closer to me if you want to avoid that!** His silent protest was ignored as Dylan's fingers stroked his stomach in a lower attempt, he grabbed the wrist of the fingers slowly stealing his composure and he shot Dylan a pleading look with the heat running up his face.

He stepped toward her. She shook her head violently. “Don’t. Don’t you dare pity me.” “I’m not pitying you,” he said, his voice steadying with effort. “I’m listening. And I need you to keep talking.” Her laugh was brittle, hollow. “You think digging into it will free me? That if I spill the filth out loud, I’ll suddenly be healed?” Harry’s gaze held hers, unwavering. “Maybe not. But silence has chained you this long. You deserve to be free of it.”

​He stepped back, his face returning to its silent, stony mask. ​"The shower is ready," Lorenzo said, gesturing to the bathroom. "Five minutes, Bianca. Make them believe you’re the smartest person in the room, or you won't live to see ​I looked at the bloody chip on the floor, then at the man who had just saved me—and threatened me—in the same breath. ​"Fine," I said, my voice cold. "I'll speak for the Silent Don. But when I'm done, he's going to wish he’d stayed quiet."

In a different room. A different life. A speaker made a crackling noise. Static filled the silence. Then a voice. Calm. Deep. One she knew. “You took your time.” Seraphina made a small, broken sound. Silas looked at them. “Who is that?” Neither sister answered. They stared at the screen like kids who opened a door they were told never to touch. The voice kept going. Gentle. Almost like he was smiling. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come back here on your own.”

"Charles knew that. That is w‌hy he​ is back t​he​re and‌ w‍e are here." Th⁠e‌ sile​nce t‌hat‌ foll‌owed was heavy and suffocat‌ing. It wa​s fill⁠ed only by the mechanical breathi​n‌g of the ma​chine. I w​atched the way the⁠ light from the p‌assing‌ streetlamps fli​ckered ac​ross Silas's face. He looked so fragile. He look⁠ed like a statue ma​de of salt that might dissolve if the rain got i‍nside t‌he va‍n.

Teresa said nothing, but the look on her face made it clear that was precisely what she thought. In her eyes, Silas was a mild-mannered and reserved man who didn't have a single assertive bone in him. He was like the air conditioner that kept their apartment at a constant temperature at all times. No matter how wild the storm raging outside was, he would remain calm and level-headed. "Well, you're wrong. You couldn't be more wrong," Alice declared. She leaned forward, resting her crossed arms on the table as she adopted the same professional demeanor she used when analyzing patients with severe emotional disorders.

Bright The silence in the waiting room was deafening. Only the tick-tock of a clock on the wall seemed to move at its own rhythm, and every passing second hammered against my chest, reminding me just how fragile Sophia's life was at that moment. I had sat down next to Dante, rigid, fists clenched on my legs, unable to muster even a thread of calm. I couldn’t even look at Dante; his presence made me uneasy, but more than that, it kept me alert, because I knew his judgment, his gaze, was always loaded with intent.

she smiled genuinely making me heart warm up to her. I mastered up a small smile and went inside, I felt my anxiety pipe up and I nodded at them in acknowledgment. One good thing about my family is that they all are comfortable with my silence. Apart from my parents no one knows that I can speak again and no one ever forced me to either. It's better this way. Not having to explain anything to anyone. Staying in my own mind, even though it can be harmful sometimes I don't care. "I'm literally stinking and exhausted right now" I wanted to groan but smiled at what Malaika was saying. She was a nice girl with an even beautiful accent. Her Urdu is to die for, god. That's my new inspiration right