Page 74 of The Silent Patient

“I know you’re not a child. I just want to make sure you’ll take them—and not throw them away.”

“I’ll take them.”

“Go on, then.”

Gabriel watched me put the pills in my mouth and sip some water.

“Good girl,” he said, and kissed my cheek. He left the room.

The moment Gabriel’s back was turned, I spat out the pills. I spat them into the sink and washed them down the drain. I’m not taking any medication. The drugs Dr. West gave me last time nearly drove me crazy. And I’m not going to risk that again.

I need my wits about me now.

I need to be prepared.

AUGUST17

I’ve started hiding this diary. There’s a loose floorboard in the spare bedroom. I’m keeping it there, out of sight in the space underneath the floorboards. Why? Well, I’m being too honest here in these pages. It’s not safe to leave it lying around. I keep imagining Gabriel stumbling across the notebook and fighting his curiosity but then opening it and starting to read. If he found out I’m not taking the medication, he’d feel so betrayed, so hurt—I couldn’t bear that.

Thank God I have this diary to write in. It’s keeping me sane. There’s no one else I can talk to.

No one I can trust.

AUGUST21

I’ve not been outside for three days. I’ve been pretending to Gabriel that I’m going for walks in the afternoons when he’s out, but it’s not true.

It makes me fearful, the thought of going outside. I’ll be too exposed. At least here, in the house, I know I’m safe. I can sit by the window and monitor the passersby. I’m scanning each face that passes for that man’s face—but I don’t know what he looks like, that’s the problem. He could have removed his disguise and be moving about in front of me, completely unnoticed.

That’s an alarming thought.

AUGUST22

Still no sign of him. But I mustn’t lose focus. It’s just a matter of time. Sooner or later he’ll be back. I need to be ready. I need to take steps.

I woke up this morning and remembered Gabriel’s gun. I’m going to move it from the spare room. I’ll keep it downstairs where I can get to it easily. I’ll put it in the kitchen cupboard, by the window. That way it will be there if I need it.

I know all this sounds crazy. I hope nothing comes of it. I hope I never see the man again.

But I have a horrible feeling I will.

Where is he? Why hasn’t he been here? Is he trying to get me to lower my guard? I mustn’t do that. I must continue my vigil by the window.

Keep waiting.

Keep watching.

AUGUST23

I’m starting to think I imagined the whole thing. Maybe I did.

Gabriel keeps asking me how I’m doing—if I’m okay. I can tell he’s worried, despite me insisting I’m fine. My acting doesn’t seem to be convincing him anymore. I need to try harder. I pretend to be focused on work all day, whereas in fact work couldn’t be further from my mind. I’ve lost any connection with it, any impetus to finish the paintings. As I write this, I can’t honestly say I think I’ll paint again. Not until all this is behind me, anyway.

I’ve been making excuses about why I don’t want to go out, but Gabriel told me tonight I had no choice. Max has asked us out to dinner.

I can’t think of anything worse than seeing Max. I pleaded with Gabriel to cancel, saying I needed to work, but he told me it would do me good to go. He insisted and I could tell he meant it, so I had no choice. I gave in and said yes.

I’ve been worrying all day, about tonight. Because as soon as my mind started turning on it, everything seemed to fall into place. Everything made sense. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, it’s so obvious.

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