Inmate Character Letter Novels & Stories

That's already part of the plan if they will not get me out of the cell before the sun goes down. "The letter. Could you please send the letter to Nathalie Fisher?" I begged, ignoring the inevitable sprouting of my claws and fangs. "She's the one who could help me get out of this place. Please, send the letter to her address." "A love letter?" The policeman instead laughed at me. "Are you kidding me?" If I could just reach out to any part of his body, I might have already torn him into pieces. Lucky for him, the metal bars were blocking me to do that. But if given the chance I could get out of the cell, I'm gonna put his breathing to an end.

I bristle at her doubtful tone. While I entrusted my life to Charles, other prisoners had their doubts, and I won't judge them. After all, many inmates haven't found their true love yet. They don't understand the meaning of childhood sweethearts, family, and commitment. "Of course," I say. "Charles is a great guy. He sends me a letter every week. He hasn't visited me because his status is sensitive. I went to jail, Trina, and it was not an honorable thing to do. And my dad wouldn't lie to me, either. I'm finally going to get my life back, Trina."

*** ONE YEAR LATER My heart nearly jumped out of my chest when the warden called out, “Inmate 2160, you’ve got a letter from a family member.” I froze as he handed it over to me through the gate hole. Liam? I thought... After nearly three years in this place and handing him our baby, not even hearing a word from him, he sends a letter now? And in a fancy envelope? I sat down and rushed to untie the silver cord wrapped around it before unfolding the card. “YOU’RE LEAVING THE CELL NOW... FOLLOW THE BLACK CAR WITHOUT HESITATION.” I blinked once and then twice... There was no name, just the strange, commanding message.

You have the full right to refuse and that refusal will carry no consequences for the inmate's programme participation. She said: what is in it. The woman said: I am not permitted to share the full content, but I can tell you that the letter contains what the programme describes as an apology document and — the inmate has requested me to convey this specifically — an explanation. He stated that the explanation addresses something he believes you have been waiting to understand. A silence. She looked at the road ahead. George looked at her. The woman said: do you wish to receive it. She did not answer immediately.

HAPPILY EVER AFTER, OR SO THE THOUGHT. ALFREDO’S POV “Inmate 419, you have a visitor calling.” Walking through the door to the visitor room where we were let to see our guest I saw my lawyer at the corner of the building. The old geezer looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in this stink hole for a visitation. He sights me and straightens his poster plastering that weird smile of his. “This way Alfredo.” He calls waving at me. Fucker.

At least an easier way to identify you," I asked her as I requested her identity as my friend. She nodded in agreement and decided to give me an answer. As I looked at her, I knew something was wrong. She does not talk much, or is it a result of too much maltreatment in the cell? Anyway, there was no need for her to talk much in order to turn an inmate into a friend. She turns back and points to where her name was, and as usual, it was an alphabet in combination with a number. I did glance at her name and read the inscription, "AK-307," I said to her.

I said. "They match in spirit" he said. Movie at 3 PM. Rom-com. He fell asleep 20 minutes in. On my shoulder. Drool and all. I didn’t move for an hour. Just let him. Because I could. *DAY 6: DEC 17 - THE LETTER* 2:15 PM Mail came. Official envelope. State seal. "Victim Notification Inmate #88472 Victor Reed Transferred to: Riverton State Penitentiary Estimated release: December 2034"

Chapter 4: The Cracks in the Mask Alexia The dim light from the overhead bulb flickered, casting fleeting shadows across the damp walls of my cell. I stared at the steel door, my mind a whirlpool of confusion and despair. Each second dragged into an eternity, the silence broken only by the occasional drip of water from a leaky pipe.

I stand and walk to the counter passing the box of pastries and taking a plate of eggs and bacon and fruit and walk back to the table. I don’t know how long I’ve sat just staring at my screen saver on my laptop, the painting he did of our wolves when a hard knock hits my door and Beta Josh walks in, “Alpha Abigail, you got a minute.” I nod and he sits across from me, “Beta Charles wants to stay and try and help us get information from the other inmates, he says they don’t know he is trying to get to the top and he’s hoping that one of them will slip up.”

And a photograph — old, worn, folded down the middle. I unfolded the letter and began to read. Letter from Inmate #45291-B Dear River, You don’t know me. But I knew your mother. *We weren’t friends exactly. Just two women who ended up in the same shelter for three nights. It was the last place she stayed before she… disappeared.* She didn’t talk much. But the last night? She sat next to me on the floor and told me a name. I don’t know what it meant. But she made me promise.