The Silent Patient Novels & Stories

"There are several reasons for his silence. Firstly, loyalty or fear. If Andrew felt a strong loyalty to the person who ordered the theft—perhaps because they helped him in the past or offered him protection—he might have chosen to stay silent. Fear is another reason. The person behind the theft might have threatened him, making the risk of speaking out greater than the risk of staying quiet." Franklyn interjected, "So, why do you think he will be ready to confess now? What if he keeps silent?"

The three reach the manhole cover and there, SpeedBlade uses his sword to pry the cover off. "You made a foolish mistake," Silent says, walking toward me. "A brave but very foolish mistake." "You know," I say, stepping forward and staring Silent down. "For someone who called himself Silent, you should talk a lot. I mean, a lot a lot. Are you sure you have the right name?" "I'm a silent worker," Silent says before raising his arm and firing his blasters. Jumping and rolling out of the way, I run around Silent and throw my shield at him.

The silence in the ranger station cabin wasn't peaceful. It was the quiet after a bomb blast, thick with the acrid smell of contained dread and Petrova’s antiseptics. Silas lay unnervingly still, his breathing shallow, the blood beneath his nose a dark, dried accusation. Leo hadn’t moved from his vigil at the cot’s side, Silas’s cold hand clasped in his own, as if sheer will could anchor the drifting mind within. The vial pouch sat on the rickety table like a malevolent totem, its faint purple glow seeming to pulse in the dim lantern light.

If I stay here and watch him, waiting for him to make a move, he will still kill me. Right now, I have no option. “I don't understand,” I breathe, my voice raspy, tangling in with the sound of the rain outside. “Why do this?” I'm not sure what I'm wanting out of this conversation. There is no way he's going to talk back to me, since he’s a Silent, trained to never open his mouth to anyone. He would rather die for his cause then even acknowledge me for a second. At this point, I'm just buying time, while my mind clambers to think of a way to get out of this.

The silence in the apartment was a physical presence, thick and accusing, pressing down on Grey from all sides. He sat on the floor beside the couch, his back against the worn fabric, his head cradled in his hands. The only sounds were Lisa’s steady, sleeping breath and the frantic, runaway rhythm of his own heart, a drumbeat of guilt echoing in the stillness.

At that point, I just switched my phone off, no longer having any energy to reply. Meanwhile, the doctor helped me into the consultation room with my medical report in hand. Shaking his head, he said, "Your condition is still quite bad, Miss Palmer. You have to be mentally prepared. Don't let your emotions get too intense, or else you'll…" I smiled and nodded lightly at the doctor as I shoved a handful of pills in my mouth. "Yes, I understand. I've been using this artificial heart for years now, after all." Six years ago, Scott and I went overseas on vacation. However, enemies of his family had set an ambush in advance, and the two of us got kidnapped.

Josh paced impatiently up and down the hall. Behind the closed door at the end of the corridor sat his boss, the chief of police and the interior minister. Josh had presented all of his evidence to the men and now they were debating how best to proceed. And that WITHOUT him! He was so annoyed and had he not been so disciplined he would have hit the wall long ago with his fist. He was just turning around for another round in the hall when Janik came with a paper cup of coffee. Without a word he handed him the mug and sat on a chair by the wall. After a while of silence, he cleared his throat. "Why is the case so close to you?"

Sabrina The hospital room is silent when I enter in the late afternoon—too silent, as if death had already unpacked its bags and was patiently waiting its hour, as if the white walls and the clinical tiles and the half-closed shutters filtering the gray December light had been designed to smother the very last breath of life. Gérard is there, in his bed, eyes closed, face so pale it almost blends into the pillow. The machines beep softly, regularly, as if the morning crisis had been nothing but a nightmare, as if nothing had happened, as if his awakening had been nothing but an illusion.

“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.

Raia looked at the surroundings while waiting for further instructions. It's been five minutes since he went inside this room but until now, he can't think of anything because of his nervousness. His hands are shaking while his eyes can't stop looking around the room. The walls are covered white while there are some cabinets at the side. There are some maps and other books, seems like props for Raia. After several minutes, he heard something from the other side of the room. He was sitting in front of the transparent glass. In this way, he could see whoever is on the other side of the room.