My Life In Prison Novels & Stories

If that happened, Sylvia would certainly go mad and take revenge on me. The bloody memories of my past life filled my mind. I excused myself into the confession booth by saying I needed to repent. Once I was inside, I checked in on Noah using the surveillance camera in his room. Only after seeing that he was safe and sound at the rehabilitation center did I relax. He was the only family member I had left after our parents passed away. I couldn't drag him into the messy conflict between Sylvia and me this time. After composing myself, I stepped out of the confessional, only for a gun to press against my forehead.

“We’ll call a doctor. We’ll figure this out. We’re gonna fight this.” But Brielle didn’t move. She just stood there—hand on her stomach, her name finally her own again—realizing that some prisons weren’t made of walls or rings or contracts. Some were made of biology. Some were growing inside her. To be continued...

If he thought that was going to hurt me then another thing was coming. I would rather stay mateless for the rest of my life than to have a horny cheating ass bustard as my mate. He could stick his STD dick any hole he wanted for all I care. I wish his dick would break off for all the abuse and keep me here. Footsteps heard coming down the hallway of the prison. I kept my head high against the wall matching his glare as he arrived in front of my cell bars. Nothing he could do to break a person who was already broken. My entire life was a lie. People betrayed me in the worst way possible. The wounds outside were compared to wounds inside.

The guards throw me in the cell as if I'm garbage, and I land on my hands and knees. The bottom of my dress has torn, and I turn to scream at the guards, rushing forward just as they slam the cell on me. I'm so angry as I grip the metal bars, screaming for them to let me out. Footsteps wander in through the dark hallway, and the small oil lamps laid on the floor light up just enough for me to see who it is. "Mason." I say, through gritted teeth.

Omegas like me deserved no happy endings, I was put back where I belonged: in prison. I’ve been a prisoner ever since I was born, first it was to my parents, then Maddox and now, I was in an actual prison. I was stuck here with no knowledge of what my faith would be. I spoke in hushed tone to myself, in a manner that showed anger mixed with sadness. "What did you expect? You were going to go through most of your life suffering, only to one day be picked up by some knight in shining armor and then you'd live happily ever after?"

"And what exactly can you provide that's worth breaking two convicted killers out of prison?" I leaned closer, lowering my voice. " Skills that can't be found any where in this world, skills that certain people would pay millions for." Maya studied my face carefully. "What kind of skills?" "The kind that make problems disappear permanently." She was quiet for a long moment, chewing thoughtfully. Finally, she spoke. "You know, I've been in prison for three months, before I was transferred here. Three months of eating slop, sleeping on concrete, and watching my back every second. Before this place, I had a life. A good life."

Mary said. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” Yes, of course, I’ll handle it, I have to make sure that guy feels what I’m feeling right now, being in prison for a mistake I never did, it sucks, I wasted a lot of my time being locked up here. At first, I thought this was the end of my life but it turns out, this is just the beginning of everything, and I’ll make sure no one can bring me down this time. •••

He was hoping he wouldn't have to say. "For each person you kill is 5 years underground. They lock you up. Put you in a hole in the ground. You don't die, but it is very boring, and uncomfortable. It's been 7 years since he went under. He has 8 more years to go." I was in aw at this. Humans were considered important after all. Again we had silence for the remainder of the ride. Helium had answered a lot of my questions for me so I was not as in the dark as before.

Just one little window with bars, up too high to get to. My cellmate was a lifer and fittingly he went by the name Marcus. In for killing three people during a failed robbery. He had been here 15 years, would die here. "What are you in for?" he asked the first night. "Everything." He laughed, a laughter devoid of humor. “Well ain’t that the truth for all of us.” I rested on the thin mattress and did my best not to think of Celine. Over her face through the plexiglass, streaming tears. About the life we practically had.