The Silent Patient Book Cover Novels & Stories

She lowered the book, staring down at its bold black cover. “You don’t even know what the hell is in this thing,” she muttered under her breath. Her voice was barely audible, but even that felt too loud in the oppressive silence. She flinched, looking around to make sure no one had noticed. No one seemed to. The workers kept moving, heads down, hands busy. But the eerie quiet still pressed in on her.

“I am sorry, I was just trying to keep you from murdering someone in public.” His expression shifted - dark, unreadable. His eyes trailed across my face, lingering on my lips. Then his hand reached up, fingertips grazing my cheek. He always wore the same damn expression. Blank, unmoved, like nothing in this world could touch him. But somehow, in the silence and the stillness, he made sure I and everyone else felt it all - the cold, the control, the darkness wrapped beneath his skin.

But when she pulled it free, her breath stopped. The book was unlike anything she had ever seen. Its cover was bound in leather so dark it seemed almost black, though in the right light it shimmered faintly with hues of deep crimson. Strange symbols—curved, jagged, and foreign—were etched into its surface, pressed deep into the hide like scars. No title marked its spine. A lock, thin and ancient-looking, sealed its pages.

The unmistakable sounds of lovemaking filled the air. Don froze, his face going pale as he turned toward Fiona in disbelief. The guy clapped his hands. "If you all wanna see the uncensored video, scan the code and join the group chat! It's free!" One of his goons held up a big piece of paper with a giant QR code printed on it. The crowd rushed over immediately. Within minutes, a bunch of young guys were squatting on the ground, grinning as they watched the video on their phones. The moans and gasps echoed through the crowd, making Fiona's face flush a deep red.

I ran my fingers along the spines, listening to the silence and allowing it to guide me. And then, I felt something like a whisper in my bones. My hand stopped on a book so large that it nearly spanned the width of the shelf. Its cover was unmarked, bound in cracked black leather that felt cold to the touch. No title, no author. It was just looking heavy. I pulled the book, and the shelf behind it groaned as if relieved. I sat on the floor, back against the wall, and opened it. The pages of the book were yellow I. Color, the ink is faded but legible. The script was archaic, looping and sharp like claws etched into paper.

Despite the one very salient reason I should not give in to the plan in my head I still found myself opening the car door and taking the same path she did. I was going to end this day either dead or in the hospital. I just hoped if it had to be either of the two it should be the latter because at least it was closer. I pushed open the glass door and looked around. The interior had a rustic feel to it with the exposed brick walls and overhead beams. It smelt strongly of pumpkin pie and coffee and I could see why it was almost fully packed with chattering customers, most of them in either scrubs or stark white lab coats.

I returned a favoring smile to her by doing it genuinely before I took the book on her soft palm, an almost thick book with a blue cover. The book is heavy. On the front cover, there is a closed eye with long black thick lashes in a form of feathers placed inside a pentagon. Outside the badge has a wonderful abstract ocean and sunrise. Below it, golden embossed letters are shining to make its cover spectacular: BOOK OF A ZONER "Begin reading from page two to page five," Psyche said to me, stopping me in amazement. So I did what she wanted me to do. I flipped the pages until I reached the second page of the book. I started reading what's on it.

“You don’t know that yet either.” He didn’t argue that one. We kept searching in silence after that, the only sound the scrape of old spines against old wood and the occasional cough from disturbed dust, until my hand landed on one bound in cracked white leather, thinner than the rest, tucked sideways behind books twice its size like someone had wanted it hidden rather than shelved. “Alaric.” He crossed the room before I finished saying his name. The cover bore no title, only a wolf stamped into the white leather, its edges worn smooth by generations of hands. I opened it on the small reading table between us, and the first page nearly stopped my heart.

Celestine muttered when the cell phone was not found. Celestine frowned when she saw a figure dressed in all black sitting beside her apartment door. Her footsteps slowed down as her heart beat faster. The fatigue after a long day of work was mixed with an undefinable sense of anxiety. The closer she got to the person, the more bone-chilling cold she felt. What if that person is a psychopath? That person could be Lilyana's hater and was now targeting her because she was Lilyana's manager. Celestine shuddered in horror, but curiosity made her get closer to that person. Who? Celestine couldn't even see his face.

Every now and then she will check her secured phone even though she knew there would be no signal updates from the Axis Gate. Nothing beneath that mountain could reliably transmit and the silence from Dominic’s side remained absolute. Somehow, that frightened her more than gunfire would have. One of the younger surgical nurses sitting across from her quietly shifted position and as she adjusted a thick old book across her lap, probably her way of trying to stay awake during the drive. Her eyes slowly narrowed as she saw a symbol stamped across the inside cover of the book. A circle? She wondered as she blinked to adjust her sight. Her gaze finally cleared and she saw a circle, broken by thre