A Prisoner And Yet Novels & Stories

Its towering walls stood as a testament to confinement, a stark reminder of the consequences awaiting those who dared to cross the line of law. Within the confines of his cold and dimly lit cell, Colton sat in solitude. The echoes of his footsteps resonated against the barren walls, bouncing back as a haunting reminder of his current reality. His once stylish attire was now replaced by a plain, prison-issued uniform, a stark contrast to his former life of luxury.

He stopped boasting about how he survived a blood thirsty Seth and instead told them about the prison officers provoking him into fighting back and brutal beating. The prisoner even looked a bit sorry for the man he was calling a monster just a few moments ago. From what Nate, Levi and the rest of the prison said about him, she knew that Seth had held back immensely from the mere fact that the prisoner officers were still alive. Although, now she wasn't sure how much of it was actually rumours and gossip and how much of it was true. Seth just kept his face neutral and his eyes closed as he said, "Daisy, I'm really tired," signalling the end of their short conversation.

A prisoner's life is a life of no freedom. Each day, I woke up in the same place and performed the same thing. There is no room for dreams or hopes in a place like this. But still, I couldn't stop myself from dreaming, from hoping that maybe one day I will be free again. If God says that one day I will be free, then I will live to see that day. And even when I finally am free, this fear will linger on, the fear of people and their cruel actions. The tears would not stop as I walked again in slow motion to my cell.

Any other way, it will affect her life seriously and put her in a perilous position with him. Indeed. You heard it right. He is Caged. He is a prisoner, a bloody prisoner who didn't have cuffs in his hands yet his hands are tied together, more tighter than any chains. He was not able to hold her, at this moment. He needs to stand by a couple of more days or a few hours to do what his heart wants.

“Are you still alive?” Seeing Arista raise her hand in front of him, the man’s eyes finally moved, reaching out to grab her hand. Because of his illness, his complexion was pale. In the dark well, he looked like a ghost in the embryonic stage. Arista swallowed saliva, trying to pull her hand away: “Don’t touch me, I can’t fight back against the person above, but dealing with you now is still within my ability.”

Which, I realized with growing horror, was exactly what he was doing. I was a prisoner. The reality of it hit me anew, even though I'd known it all along. I was being held captive by men I didn't know, for reasons I didn't understand, with no clear endgame in sight. "Please," I said, my desperation rising. I reached for the man's sleeve, trying to grab his attention, trying to force him to look at me as a human being rather than an object to be managed. "Please, I'm begging you. Just tell me why I'm here. If it's money, I have access to millions. If it's information, I can get you whatever you need. If it's—"

But I think it would be a wise move to add him to the roster now. I followed him on the ground where their royal cells were, he gently put his hands over my ears ever the gentleman in his own way as we passed through the cells of screaming prisoners I had never been here before. It was dimly lit with light bulbs that hard one foot in the grave and Sean very dully. From the corners you could see roaches and rats running freely. Some of the prisoners were still actively screaming and mourning about their fate, while others seemed to be in another world physically presenting both long gone sitting on the floor or looking up idly.

Her words seemed to get to him as he grabbed another prisoner before walking out. “Thank you,” I mumbled. “Don't thank me yet, you will still die anyways,” she replied, closing her eyes gently.

List what you need, he'll come by tomorrow. I stare at the screen, jaw tight. Damn. I'm a prisoner. Truly a prisoner. A luxury apartment, a princess's wardrobe, but no right to set foot outside alone to buy milk. I feel the anger rising again, but I'm too tired to explode once more. > **Me:** OK. Fine.

S‍er⁠a⁠ Winters Som​etimes​ the worst​ prison isn't the one that h‍o​lds‌ y‌ou​r body. It's the one that makes you‌ want to stay​. ‌ I didn't l‍eave the libr​ary.