The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides Read Online (FREE)
Of course, I’m only assuming the man is watching the house.
He could be watching me.
He was there again.
It was soon after Gabriel left this morning. I had a shower and saw him out the bathroom window. He was closer this time. He was standing outside the bus stop. Like he was casually waiting for the bus.
I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling.
I got dressed quickly and went into the kitchen to have a better look. But he was gone.
I decided to tell Gabriel about it when he got home. I thought he’d brush it off, but he took it seriously. He seemed quite worried.
“Is it Jean-Felix?” he said straightaway.
“No, of course not. How can you even think that?”
I tried to sound surprised and indignant. But in truth I had wondered that too. The man and Jean-Felix are the same build. It could be Jean-Felix, but even so—I just don’t want to believe it. He wouldn’t try and frighten me like that. Would he?
“What’s Jean-Felix’s number?” Gabriel said. “I’m calling him right now.”
“Darling, don’t, please. I’m sure it’s not him.”
“Absolutely. Nothing happened. I don’t know why I’m making such a big deal out of it. It’s nothing.”
“How long was he there for?”
“Not long—an hour or so—and then he vanished.”
“What do you mean, vanished?”
“He just disappeared.”
“Uh-huh. Is there any chance you could be imagining this?”
Something about the way he said that annoyed me. “I’m not imagining it. I need you to believe me.”
“I do believe you.”
But I could tell he didn’t totally believe me. He only partly believed me. Part of him was just humoring me. Which makes me angry, if I’m honest. So angry I have to stop here—or I might write something I’ll regret.
I jumped out of bed as soon as I woke up. I checked the window, hoping the man would be there again—so Gabriel could see him too—but there was no sign of him. So I felt even more stupid.
This afternoon I decided to go for a walk, despite the heat. I wanted to be in the park, away from the buildings and roads and other people—and be alone with my thoughts. I walked up to Parliament Hill, passing the bodies of sunbathers strewn around on either side of the path. I found a bench that was unoccupied, and I sat down. I stared out at London glinting in the distance.
While I was there, I was conscious the whole time of something. I kept looking over my shoulder—but couldn’t see anyone. But someone was there, the whole time. I could feel it. I was being watched.
On my way back, I walked past the pond. I happened to look up—and there he was, the man. He was standing across the water on the other side, too far away to see clearly, but it was him. I knew it was him. He was standing perfectly still, motionless, staring right at me.