Bargain Books For Inmates Novels & Stories

Taking a deep breath before a tear could fall from my eyes, I bent down to the corner of my bed where I had shoved the folder. I ran my fingers along the borders of the folder, trying to come up with anything that could get me past this without making me compromise my relationship with my mum, the only family I currently had. I swallowed hard before deciding to go through the papers again until I saw something I had never really paid attention to. All the clauses and penalties were tied to one timeline — the period of the bargain. Knox had never explicitly said when this whole madness would be over. No… no no no… he said it was until he called it over.

This place isn’t protecting the outside world from him, instead, it’s protecting him from the outside world. His bed’s got extra pillows, there’s a sleek set of headphones on the table, and there’s even a small stack of books that look like they belong in a CEO’s library, not a prison cell. I frowned as I flipped the pages of the book. The title says, “How To Be A Millionaire”. I didn’t know he was such a nerd for life changing books. Is this how he got everything he has in the prison? I bet half of this stuff he stole from the other inmates.

"He likes listening to you read. There's a difference." "I think anyone would like reading if they had you all cuddled and pressed up against them." Levi added with a smirk. Unable to think of a good comeback, she just stuck her tongue out at them and put her focus back on her book while they laughed. The prison only had a small selection of books but surprisingly, many of them were romance or comedy and a few were philosophical. When she asked about it, she was told they weren't allowed to be exposed to anything violent. They didn't want to 'provoke' prisoners, which was very understandable.

"Are you sure I'd sell myself for money?" I shot back, and my voice was stern and angry. He crossed his arms and leaned against his sleek black car. He looked startled, but his blue eyes had a hint of anger in them. “You’re not trying to sell yourself. It’s a business arrangement.” "Agreement for business?" I repeated, feeling shocked and confused. “You mean pretending to be your girlfriend?” "Yes," he said in a steady voice. “For one year. You get financial security, and I get to keep my picture intact.”

Rick took a job at the prison's license plate factory in the inking department, catching freshly inked plates as they came out of the chute and sending them by conveyor belt to the drying oven. One appeal failed in 2014, and another failed in 2015. Rick thought he might win with a better lawyer. Rick opened a bank account and watched the money grow, despite the fact that the wages were low in comparison to civilian standards and high in comparison to prison standards—perhaps $100 per month plus bonuses.

They’re not going anywhere any time soon. The cells are comfortable, downright humane compared to other dungeons I’ve seen, but they are still prison cells. There’s nothing inside but a toilet, a basin to wash in, a somewhat comfortable cot, a cabinet for personal belongings, and a chair. I allow my current inmates books and magazines, but that’s as much entertainment as they’re going to get. Isaac is given more freedom, and I leave his door unlocked, but Maggie will not see the outside world until she realises that Easton isn’t the god she made him out to be in her head.

He leaned forward now, resting his chained hands on the table between us, and his voice dropped to a near whisper. “Anything I want? You should be careful saying things like that. But since you insist…” He paused for effect, as though savoring the moment, “Let’s start with the basics. I want decent food. No more of this prison slop. I want fresh meals, hot, the kind people eat outside these walls.” I blinked at him. That wasn’t unreasonable, not compared to what I had feared. “That can be arranged.” His smirk deepened, “Good. I also want access to books, real ones, not the torn-up garbage they keep in the library here. Histories, thrillers, even romance if you can get them. Something that ma

You didn’t feel like you were going to lose your last meal when you took a deep breath. “Hardly what I’d call “punishment”. These are some of the nicest dungeons I’ve ever seen.” Declan pronounced upon entry. “They’re not dungeons. Dungeons serve no purpose except to house and torture people. Our cell system is set up to monetize the criminals within it. They grow their own food, they do their own landscaping, cooking, cleaning, and they do other odd jobs within the pack. Jobs like moving and rotating the compost piles, tilling and getting the fields ready for replanting, cutting and stacking timber. That’s just to name a few. The money they earn is sent home to their families, if they have

he explains nonchalantly, taking off his shoes. "What?!” I squeal, my vision going blurry immediately, "Why? Oh, my god. Someone stabbed him already?" "No, it was yesterday," he says and gets in bed with me, then presses his thumb against my quivering lip, "I kicked his ass myself, because he deserved it. Because he's going to trick the system and get benefits no inmate should have. I got him safety and entertainment and more money than he should have in there. In no time, he'll find a way to use what I gave him for his benefit. No one is going to stab him. And if they do, that'll only work in our benefit because we can use it as an excuse to get him out even earlier."

Because that was exactly what they wanted. Instead, he closed his eyes, jaw tightening. He wouldn’t be here for long. The murmurs grew louder, turning into taunts. The inmates weren’t going to let this go. “Damn, Harry, you must love it here,” one guy with a scar across his cheek smirked, leaning against the bars. “Three hot meals, a bed, free security. Ain’t life sweet for the rich boy?” Another snorted. “Nah, he’s just here to check on his investments. You know, make sure the prison's still running properly for when he comes back next time.”