Silently Crying Novels & Stories

I asked him, but this time his face and his voice didn’t break the eerie and lonely silence around me. My eyes scrunched tightly as more tears started to flow and I sobbed quietly, while the constant tugs of anger and grief sent sharp sword-like stabs into the pit of my skinny, empty stomach and shivers crawled deeply across my tiny frame. I cried until my eyes felt sore enough to close voluntarily and lead me into another haunted sleep.

It’s suffocating like the silence in that dark cell where I was kept. She was crying. Again. The way someone cries when they were trying not to. The kind that doesn’t beg for attention. Not loud, not hysterical but just those quiet sobs that crawl under your skin and settle into your bones. And then then those quiet sobs turned into more, they begin to shake her shoulders, like something inside her was breaking with each breath. I fucking hate it. And I didn't understand why. But hearing her muffled cries had my jaw locked. And my mind? It felt like a fucking battlefield.

But it didn’t. The silence stretched, swallowing the room whole. And that was when the tears finally came. It wasn’t loud — not the kind of crying that shakes walls or breaks glass. It was the quiet kind. The kind that seeps out slow, like a leak you can’t stop. My chest hurt. My throat burned. Every part of me felt heavy. I buried my face in my hands, trying to hold it all in, but the harder I tried, the worse it got. The tears slipped through my fingers and dampened my palms. My breath came out uneven.

The events of the night come crashing together all at once and something in my chest cracks wide open. I don’t cry prettily. It’s not the graceful, cinematic kind of crying that works well in dim lighting. It’s ugly and silent and full-body, the kind that comes from somewhere below the surface. I press my face into my mother’s shoulder and I shake and shake while she strokes my hair the way she always did when I was little. She says absolutely nothing because Nora Reid has always understood, in the way that certain people simply understand, that there are moments when words are just noise and there is need for silence.

"Love you baby, “my voice sort of cracking, as I drag the blanket up against his chin. He Sort of mumbles something back, he is half asleep already, and I stand there watching him—fighting back the urge to cry. I can't lose him. Just cannot. The moment I am out of his room, everything falls. I gingerly click the door to a close behind him and slump my back against it, trying to catch my breath. I have been squeezed on my chest, and it feels as if someone is squeezing my hand on it, so it hurts to breathe. I stumble into the bathroom, lock the door behind me, and let it out—all of it, the tears and sobs I've held back all day. I sit down on the floor, bury my face in my hands, let myself go,

Even her sobs are muted, a symphony of unspoken sorrow that tears at my soul. Holding Brianna tightly with one arm, I used my free hand to softly wipe the tears from her face, my fingers tracing gentle circles on her cheeks and under her swollen eyes. “Baby...” Due to her extreme restraint in making any sound while crying, to the point where even her deep breaths were silent, her inhales and exhales became rapid. I know the feeling of crying without screaming, a pain that’s both sharp and suffocating in the heart. Brianna’s method of stifling her sobs might be making it hard for her to breathe.

And now, on top of everything else, I was supposed to accept that I was mated to the king? A tear slipped down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away, frustrated with myself for feeling so helpless. But the tears kept coming, no matter how hard I tried to hold them back. They flowed freely, washing over me like a flood, until I was sobbing uncontrollably.

She punched the door with all her might, Lane was so worried; her voice cracked. The crying noises which were filled the restroom immediately vanished as she arrived, my palm wrapped around my mouth to stop me from crying, but then I still cried in silence. Crying in silence is hurt a million more times than crying out loud. How come? Yeah, just like the soul that is trapped in the body and can’t go, that’s how crying in silence feels. I wiped my tears in sobbing, making sure there were no tears left, at the time Lane still pounding on the restroom door, and when I opened the door, she ran and comforted me.

I had drunken with Leo until he thought that sleeping was better than getting drunk with me. He was an emotional mess, not as much as me but he came pretty fucking close. He did a lot of what I like to call 'silent crying.' which is when tears are running free down your face but you aren't making any sound. Something that while sitting on the curb at some time in the night or early morning, I was currently doing. My drunken state and silent crying had allowed me to do some thinking, to get some emotions out. Something I hadn't been able to do in a very long time.

His voice wasn't loud, not a shout that would echo through the grand halls, but it had the kind of quiet weight that could silence a whole room, make the very air still. Lyric blinked hard, her eyes stinging from unshed tears of frustration. Her chest rose and fell quickly, her breathing shallow and ragged, betraying the storm raging inside her. Her throat felt tight, as if something heavy was stuck in it, a ball of anger and hurt she couldn't swallow.