Some scream while others stay calm.
One slams the door… the other simply walks out of the situation.
People tend to believe that the person who usually stays silent is handling the situation better. They become mute because they think that is the only way to deal with whatever they are facing. Maybe they even convince themselves that they are being “diplomatic.”
But are they really?
On the other side, if a person starts screaming, that may simply be their way of expressing their emotions.
I’m definitely not justifying screaming — especially when you know the person opposite you cannot express themselves the same way.
But is there really no middle ground for these two completely opposite people to stand somewhere and just… communicate?
I guess that’s where everything else starts coming in.
The snide comments.
The constant negative outlook toward each other.
The little digs.
Geezz… sometimes even when the other person is saying something completely reasonable, you don’t want to accept it because you already see them in a negative light.
At that point, are you actually listening to what they’re saying?
Or have you already decided they’re wrong before they even finish the sentence?
Somewhere along the way, one person stops talking.
Then they stop explaining.
Then they stop expecting anything.
And eventually, they stop caring.
Obviously, once you reach that point, there is going to be less and less interest in continuing — or even fixing — the relationship.
Sighhhh.
But here’s the strange part.
While all of this is happening, life still continues.
Dinner gets made.
Bills get paid.
The kids continue with their lives.
The “family” still attends parties together with pleasant smiles — sometimes smiles that seem to appear only when outsiders are around.
From the outside, everything might look completely fine.
Inside the house?
That could be a completely different story.
The Narcissistic One Is Easier to Notice
Narcissistic behaviour tends to put itself out there.
It rarely destroys a relationship quietly.
You might notice that almost every disagreement somehow becomes about them.
You try to explain your side, but somehow the conversation turns into every battle they have fought, everything they have sacrificed, and everything you have supposedly done wrong.
There can be very little empathy.
Sometimes expressing how you feel can actually make you regret saying anything at all.
The minute you say:
“I’m hurt.”
It suddenly becomes an inconvenient moment.
And before you know it, everything goes back to them.
Their feelings.
Their sacrifices.
Their reputation.
Their needs.
You started the conversation trying to explain why you were hurt, but somehow you end up comforting them, defending yourself, or questioning whether you should have brought it up in the first place.
Living with that kind of behaviour can eventually make you feel like you are constantly carrying guilt.
Like you owe them something.
You start questioning the way you talk.
The way you behave.
The way you look at them.
You replay conversations in your head.
Did I say that wrong?
Should I have said it differently?
Was I actually the problem?
Not once.
Sometimes multiple times throughout the day.
And honestly… that can become exhausting.
On the Other Hand, the Silent Killer Plays a Different Game
I believe this type can be much harder to identify because they seem more reasonable.
They don’t scream.
They don’t create unnecessary scenes.
They don’t necessarily insult you.
You might even feel like this is the person you can have a sensible conversation with.
Except slowly… there is no conversation.
They disappear mentally.
Not physically.
They are still sitting in the same room.
Still sleeping in the same house.
Still going to the same family events.
But emotionally, they have started checking out.
You ask them a simple question:
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
You ask once.
Twice.
Three times.
Still nothing.
Eventually, you get used to it.
And strangely, the relationship becomes more peaceful.
No screaming.
No arguments.
No drama.
Sounds better, right?
But maybe it isn’t peaceful because the problem was solved.
Maybe it became peaceful because one person stopped believing it was worth trying.
That is a completely different kind of silence.
But Isn’t Being Silent Better Than Arguing?
That question will probably come up.
Yes, sometimes silence is the better option.
Sometimes you know you are angry enough that anything you say in that moment is only going to make things worse.
There is nothing wrong with saying:
“I need to cool down. I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
That is still communication.
You are telling the other person what is happening.
You are asking for space.
And hopefully, you come back to the conversation later.
But what happens when silence is deliberately used to control the other person?
That is something completely different.
The silent killer refuses to answer.
Withdraws affection.
Ignores messages.
Walks around the house refusing to acknowledge the other person.
Makes reconciliation nearly impossible until eventually the other partner gives up.
Or apologizes.
Or surrenders.
Sometimes without even knowing what they are apologizing for.
At that point, silence stops being a way of calming yourself down.
Silence becomes punishment.
More like guilt-tripping the other person without actually saying a word.
And maybe that is why it can be so difficult to recognize.
There is no screaming.
No insults.
No dramatic scene.
Nothing you can easily point to and say:
“See? That’s the problem.”
But the person on the receiving end is still left wondering:
What did I do?
Are you still angry?
Should I apologize?
Should I leave you alone?
Do you even care enough to talk about it?
The house may be silent.
But the person’s mind definitely isn’t.
So… Who Destroys the Relationship Faster?
Maybe the narcissistic one does more obvious damage.
They can make you question yourself, your emotions, your reactions and sometimes even whether you had the right to feel hurt in the first place.
But the silent killer does something different.
They make you question whether the relationship is even still alive.
And maybe that is the scary part.
One relationship feels like constant war.
The other can feel strangely peaceful.
But peace without communication, affection or effort isn’t really peace.
It’s distance.
At the end of the day, I don’t think the answer is simply about who is “worse.”
The bigger question is whether either person is still willing to meet somewhere in the middle.
To talk without screaming.
To take space without punishing.
To listen without immediately defending.
To say “I’m hurt” without turning it into a competition over who has suffered more.
Because once one person is constantly fighting to be heard and the other has decided there is no point talking anymore…
what exactly is left to save?
Maybe the real silent killer isn’t silence itself.
Maybe it’s the point where two people stop trying to understand each other.