Alat Kedap Suara Untuk Kamar นิยาย & เรื่องราว

He said and crossed his one leg over the other while his fingers remained entangled and he smiled lightly while looking at me. "Like what?" I asked. "I will prepare a back-up for you. If you feel any danger while talking to him, you can click the button from the device placed on the wall beside the door and the gaurds will barge inside." He said. The interrogation room was a soundproof four wall spacious room where the voices from the inside travelling outside was a close to no possibility. So, it would be very difficult for screaming voice to reach outside.

Personal. I followed the second wire—a twin thread—running flush along the baseboard toward the next room. Bedroom three. The one I hadn’t used in months. I kicked it open. A low hum vibrated from behind the dresser. Another box. Covered in black matte plastic. Like it wanted to disappear into shadow. When I cracked it open, a miniature soundboard greeted me. Labeled. Meticulously. "Breath. Step. Whimper. Cry." Every damn sound that had echoed through the halls like memories crawling out of the walls. Every one of them, man-made.

I don't want anyone to hear it, particularly his guards to follow me at this time of night and eavesdrop on us. I hear the sound of running water. I walk toward the washroom's door and knock on it, " Sas! Are you in? I wanna talk to you. Can you stop the faucet? I don't want my voice to reach out of the room and anyone to eavesdrop on us." Sas doesn't say anything but she turns off the faucet as silence spreads in the room.

Then, a heavy, mechanical thud echoed through the floorboards—the sound of the secondary blast doors dropping into place, sealing the exit. A second later, a soft, high-pitched hissing sound began to whistle through the overhead ventilation shafts, and the faint, unmistakable scent of aerosolized chemical sedatives began to fill the pitch-black room. From the shadows behind the main console, the distinct click of a handgun chambering a round cut through the darkness.

She replies to me while pouring herself a glass of champagne, the bottle sits on the small coffee table not too far from the bed. “And Cara, are you okay with this?” I ask her and she smirks. “It’s perfect,” She tells me in response. “It’s time, let’s get going,” Natalie informs us and I tentatively stand to my feet and follow the both of them out of the room. The hallway is long and full of light, most of the doors to the rooms are shut and it is very quiet. “If you are wondering why it is so quiet, it is because each room in this hotel is soundproof, no sound enters or leaves,” She explains to me as the three of us walk toward the elevator. I nod in response, trying my best to see what my

He impatiently opens the door and slam it shut once we are inside the small sized chamber which has a queen sized bed and another door I guess its toilet for his personal use. He flops me on the bed ,my body bounces once coming in the contact of soft mattress. "They are going to hear us anyway."I say plopping my head on my palm which I balance on my elbow while I watch him undressing himself. "The room is soundproof. Well it wasn't before but I made a few technical changes since I find my mate.See we are going to use it now."He smirks throwing the last piece of cloth in some corner of the chamber,"Finally I got rid of these clown's dress."He spares a disgusted glance over the pile of his dis

But under all that there was another smell, thin and sharp, like rubbing alcohol. I stayed still and listened. Nothing. Just an old lavish building holding its breath. I was wrong. A hotel never holds its breath. It rattles, it hums, it leaks life through thin walls. This room was too quiet, like somebody had turned down the volume. My eyes went to the doors. The main door. The bathroom. The connecting door, panelled to look like part of the wall. Too many ways in. A soft click came from somewhere near the entrance. Not loud enough to wake a man who trusted sleep. Loud enough to make my blood go cold.

Desperate to keep the house quiet, I shove my index finger into my mouth, biting down hard on my knuckles to stifle the noise. It’s useless. The room fills with the wet slap of his skin against mine. Even the bed betrays us. The frame creaks and rattles while the mattress bumps against the wall with every movement. Then, he pauses. He pulls back almost completely before thrusting forward again. “Christ!” The word tears from my throat before I can stop it. His hand clamps over my mouth, swallowing the sound. “Don’t shout…” he pants, his eyes wide and dark. “The kids… the kids will hear you.”

The sudden sharp click echoed like a gunshot inside the tiny concrete room. I flinched violently, my eyes instantly darting from the glowing bank of security monitors to the square metal ventilation grate secured near the ceiling. A long, harsh hiss of static bled through the heavy silence. Then, a low, distorted voice began speaking fluent Russian.

Normal sounds of a normal evening in this abnormal life. The second floor hallway stretches before me, lined with family portraits that aren't my family, expensive rugs that muffle every sound. My bedroom door sits at the end, painted white, with brass fixtures that gleam like gold. A sanctuary within a sanctuary. Or a cell within a prison. My bedroom door clicks shut. The sound echoes too loudly in the silence. Finally.