Chapter 22: The Test of Silence
Excerpt from the diaries of Edgar Wilmore:
"Silence is sometimes louder than screams, and the observer is the first victim. Whoever knows when to speak holds the true power."
On a gray morning, Eliza woke to find her desk covered with small messages—each carefully placed, each containing short riddles and strange symbols.
She knew Edgar was not far, even if he wasn't visible.
Every mark, every line, every symbol… was a new test of her patience and understanding.
One message stood out:
"Listen carefully. Not everything needs explanation—sometimes it is enough to observe."
A shiver ran through her body, yet she felt a strange thrill.
Edgar was not physically present, yet he was everywhere in her mind.
She felt as though he was reading her every move: every pen she wrote with, every step she took in the street.
"I want you to know… silence speaks louder than words. Can you remain silent before the truth?"
Eliza felt herself becoming part of his personal test, and that everything she wrote might place her in a mental or psychological trap.
Detective Howard called her suddenly, his voice dry:
"Eliza… these symbols… you're getting very close to him. Don't think that simply observing will protect you."
She sensed the real danger: Howard didn't trust her, and Edgar was playing with both their minds at once.
The real danger was no longer physical—it was psychological.
That evening, while wandering through the alleys of Whitechapel, she found an unexpected sight:
a small statue of a little girl standing on the sidewalk, holding a red rose.
On the ground was a neatly written note:
"Silence can be heard from afar… can you hear it?"
Eliza felt dizzy, as if Edgar were pressing against the limits of her fear and her curiosity at the same time.
She sat in her apartment, pen in hand, notebook open.
She began to write:
"Why do I continue? Why do I allow this man… to make me part of his game?"
Then she heard the voice in her head:
"Because you know the truth… and you are the only one capable of recording it as it is."
She smiled in fear—it was no longer mere obsession, but a silent complicity with the mind of a killer.
Outside, the rain poured heavily, washing the streets of London, yet the fog made everything look both frightening and mesmerizing at the same time.
Eliza closed her notebook, breathed slowly, and remembered:
"The city is silent, but the shadow hears everything… and sometimes, silence is the loudest scream."