Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ The Joys of Soundproof Walls ❯ The Joys of Soundproof Walls ( Chapter 1 )

I own this story and all of the characters

Soundproof Walls

 

She cleaned up the warm wet stains from the black-carpeted floor. The single door behind her was open, but no one could see inside. Her lavender painted nails brushed lightly against a small button along the edge of the wall. The door slammed shut. The lights turned on.

 

Red stains coated the off-white walls all were dried. A knife stood at the center of the room, next to a bucket of pinkish water, perfectly void of any stains. She picked up the rag she had been using, watching with morbid interest as red water emptied into the bucket, turning the water a darker shade of pink. She threw the entire rag in the bucket as she pushed another button to open the door, and turn off the lights. She left the room, only to return a few minutes later with paint cans and a brush. She pushed the button again. The door closed.

 

“Hello detectives, what can I help you with?” A small woman in a blue evening dress asked as she opened the door and invited the men inside. “Can you make this quick? I am on my way to a party, and cannot be late.” She continued as she motioned for the men to sit on a lavender colored couch.

 

“Did you hear anything unusual last evening, around ten o'clock?” One of the detectives said, heavily accented. The other man remained silent.

 

“No. I was asleep, I didn't hear anything, and my entire room is soundproof. ” She stated, keeping her expression neutral. “I take it that this is about the disappearances of a few people last night? My neighbor was saying something about that.” She glanced at the clock, “I have got to leave detectives my sister is awaiting me at the party. If you have any more questions, I'll be back by midnight.” She showed the men to the door, and closed it after the left. She walked to the kitchen; glancing at a knife sitting on the counter she put it away. Turning off all the lights in the house, only glancing at the darkened bedroom as she walked past, she smiled as the smell of new paint wafted from the room at the end of the hall. She turned and left her house.

 

At midnight the small woman entered her home, the smell of new paint not completely gone. She heard a knock on her door.

 

“Detective, there's just one of you? What would you like?” She asked as she invited the man inside. Nervously shuffling her feet as heels hit the hardwood.

 

“Why does this house smell like new paint?” he quietly questioned. She acted confused, smiling on the inside.

 

“I painted a room at the end of the hallway, but what does that have to do with anything?” she watched with feigned curiosity, the detective bought it.

 

“People often paint a room after a murder has taken place.” He said gruffly, not noticing the slight scowl on the woman's face.

 

“Are you accusing me of something?” She almost yelled. “Go see the room for yourself, I have nothing to hide!” He nodded as she led him down the hallway. “See that room, just there? That's the room.” He walked into the room, not noticing the thick walls and door.

 

“This is the room? Not very furnished is it.” He said as he could make out no slight outlines of furniture in the darkened room. He walked inside.

 

“Do you want me to turn the lights on, Detective?” She asked as she walked inside, her foot right next to the button to shut the door.

 

“Please do.” He muttered, as she pushed the button. The lights flared to life, the detective temporarily blinded.

 

“I'm so sorry detective, I should have warned you.” She purred as the door slammed and locked. She smirked as the lighting revealed nothing that she may have tried to hide. “These walls are soundproof.” She stated the fact, not bothering to hide anything.

 

“Why would you need soundproof walls, Miss Hanson?” The detective whispered. The woman laughed.

“Why detective, because people often scream in this room.” She pulled a knife from her sleeve; the detective swore he had seen it in her kitchen she lunged.

 

A single shot, never heard by the neighbors, rang out in the well-lighted room. Its aim was true, as the black carpeting, and a newly painted lavender wall, had new wet red stains. An injured female body hit the floor. The knife fell innocently on the floor. The detective tried to catch his breath, as the woman gasped on the floor. Several minutes passed, and soon, the door opened, the detective walking out unharmed, but in shock. Bloody footprints left a trail on the hardwood from the room, until they faded to nothing. The next day, the body of Miss Vivian Hanson, was found in her own home, her murder is still unsolved.