Silent Vows Jill Ramsower Novels & Stories

The drive over to the apartment was filled with an uncomfortable silence. Unasked questions hung in the air like a thick fog. Beads of sweat prickled on the back of the drivers neck as he too was smothered by the tension in the car. The seconds felt like minutes as the road seemed to stretch longer and longer before her eyes. Letting her eyes close, Thea suppressed a sigh as she leant her head against the window, she ignored the drumming of her head against the window as they drove over the bumpy terrain. Bellamy’s words playing on repeat in her head, ‘like our souls recognise each other’.

For the next hour, I endured what could only be described as a ceremonial test of patience. Giselle spoke at length about the virtues of a good woman, obedience, silence, sacrifice, and grace under suppression. Her voice rose and fell with practiced authority, each sentence heavier than the last. I nodded at the appropriate moments, but inside, I was yawning so hard I feared my soul might escape my body. On the other hand, the women around her hummed in agreement now and then, their jewelry clinking softly as they shifted, clearly enjoying the sermon. Finally, Giselle’s gaze sharpened as it landed directly on me.

Before everything was taken from her, Elena Voss had never truly understood silence. Not the kind that comes from absence. But the kind that is forced upon you. Sealed. Controlled. Complete. --- The first thing she noticed— Was the absence of sound. --- No rain. No footsteps. No voices. --- Nothing. --- Her eyes opened slowly. --- White. --- That was all she could see. Walls. Ceiling. Floor. Seamless. Endless. Unnatural.

She sat up slowly, pushing the covers aside. The room was silent. Too silent. Even the air felt heavier. “…What is happening to me?” she whispered. No answer came. Only the quiet glow of the moon spilling through the tall windows. Sylvie stood and walked toward it. The silver light touched her skin— And for a brief moment— She felt… comfort. Like the moon itself was watching her. Calling her. Her breath slowed. Her thoughts calmed. Then— A faint sound. Outside her door.

Silvio turned sharply at the sound and their eyes locked for a brief moment Jia saw the shock written all over Silvio's face as he stared at her, standing just a few feet away. Jia felt a wave of confusion wash over her. I guess he didn't stalk me all the way here, she thought But then—a woman appeared from inside Silvio's room, draped only in a white robe. She was tall, her long legs exposed beneath but Silvio still towered over her. The woman smiled, holding two glasses of wine in her hands. She handed one to Silvio, her lips curling up in a smile that seemed just a bit too wide

Then he turned back toward me. “Vincent will try to control the rhythm of the conversation today.” I leaned lightly against the back of one of the chairs. “How?” “By staying calm. By asking questions that appear harmless. By letting silence stretch longer than most people are comfortable with.” “That sounds very deliberate.” “It is.” Silas’s gaze sharpened slightly. “People reveal more than they realize when they feel the need to fill silence.” I thought about that. “And what should I do?” His answer came immediately.

I whisper. Dust is drifting through the small gap in the moonlight going through the blinds. It snatches on her hair, her eyelashes, the wobbling upsurge of her shoulders. She attempts to breathe silently, although to my ears each trembling intake of breath seems like a scream. Rylan steps somewhere past the room, with his pistol up, not making a sound and being on his guard. But his outline too sinks in the dark. The silence becomes so heavy, almost like a wire that is about to break.

"About me?" No answer. Not a word. Just the mirror catching the slight hitch in his chest. She let the robe fall. Naked. Vulnerable. But not afraid. He stepped closer. His gloved hand hovered near her neck, then stopped. Waiting. "I want to know what silence feels like," she murmured. "When it’s inside me. Around me. I want to feel you without hearing you." That did it. Silas grabbed her throat. Not hard. Not painful. Just enough. Just enough to say you asked for this. His palm was wide, warm, trembling with restraint. Her lips parted, breath gone.

"That’s the secret. The machine runs itself. I am just the ghost inside it." The silence stretched, becoming heavy and suffocating. In the total darkness outside the light, Lyra felt as though the walls were closing in. This was the sensory deprivation she had asked for—the stripping away of the world until there was nothing left but the raw, uncomfortable truth of the person sitting across from you. Suddenly, Silas’s hand twitched. He looked down at the Ledger, his eyes wide. "Do you hear that?" he asked, his voice trembling. "Hear what, Silas?"

Every shadow held a memory she didn't ask for. She remembered her mother's voice. The way she'd move like smoke. The way she never raised her voice — but could silence a room with one word. “Isabel,” Amara whispered, as if saying her name could bring her back. But the silence that answered her wasn't empty. It was waiting. “Security is locked down,” Silva said, entering behind her. “We've secured the perimeter. Motion sensors on the east well are live, and we've got heat scans running on all floors.”