Orange Is The New Black Novels & Stories

He had black spiky hair and a tattooed on his face. "Not really" I said "Its normal to stare at them, they are hot, especially Engeline" He said. "I guess" I said, and then I decided to be a little nosy. "So what are their names?" "The blonde is Engeline, the dark skin one is Fatima and the one with the black hair is Cassandra" He explained. My mouth dropped when he said that. So the one, I saw Bobby with was Cassandra, his friend's girl, but he also admitted he was messing with Fatima. Did both girls know they were helping Bobby serial cheat on Angel?

You're a girl? ...... The door of my cell flew wide open giving way to the annoyed face of the guard’s companion. "What makes you so long man?" He entered the room approaching us with heavy feet, but he backed down as soon as he saw me bathing with the blood of his colleague. "CODE BLACK! CODE BLACK!" he radioed frantically; his body was shuddering in utter fear. "Get here fast! Get the fuck here now!" A blaring sound filled my ears. I felt irritated and I wanted more blood.

2026. PRESENT. SEOUL. HELL MORGATHOR PRISON. ☠️ SORA ☠️ A lazy goat in a white gown walks in to change my IV drip to a new one and walks out. I could have just said a doctor. But, yeah, that’s fine. These particular ones in prison, they are annoying creatures, and they are getting on my last nerveeees. Factually, everything in this prison is pissing me the extreme, premium fuck off!

Alice The metal chair scrapes against the concrete as Nova shifts, wrists bound in front of her, shoulders slumped like she has been carrying the weight of the world alone. The interrogation room smells like rust and disinfectant, and the single bulb above her head casts a dull glow across her pale face. I lean against the wall with my arms folded, boots planted firmly on the ground, watching every twitch of her fingers.

Existing feels dangerous. I tell myself I’m just here because I don’t have a better option. My car’s still not good , my phone is still useless, and the universe clearly enjoys watching me squirm. This place is a bad idea wrapped in barbed wire, but bad ideas are all I had got left. I move toward the bar, doing my best impression of someone who belongs when I clearly don’t. The bartender is a woman with hair the color of orange and pink and arms with muscle. She doesn’t ask what I want—just raises a brow like she’s waiting for me to admit I made a wrong turn.

Papa doesn't need to know I failed, just as much as he doesn’t need to know I’m fucking my bestie’s daddy, my professor. I dust the makeup brush on my face, perfecting my makeup. My bronzer is smoothen, sharp, the eyeliner is shiny, and my hair is well laid. For the first time since I’ve been attending the camp school, I own my sexiness down to my hair color. I was born an orange lady, and I’m going to school as that. The orange curls bounce around my shoulders, down to below my clavicles. For the last touch, I smear red gloss on my lips and smack.

A woman in an orange prison uniform was brought in, her wrists chained, an officer gripping her arm. “What? You?” Ophelia spat, disbelief splashed across her face. She dropped into the chair across from Eloise, eyes narrowed. Eloise stayed quiet, watching her. Her posture was composed, but her fingers trembled from where they were hidden beneath the table. “I thought you were dead,” Ophelia sneered. Eloise took a calm breath. “Guess I got lucky.” Ophelia rolled her eyes. “What do you want?” Silence first—Eloise let it sit. Let it grow uncomfortable.

A faint scent of lavender wafted through the air, making her stomach churn. She tried to scream, but her voice was muffled by a tape covering her mouth. Her hands and feet were tied to a chair, and a piece of cloth was wrapped around her eyes. Luciana's heart racing, she struggled to free herself, but it was no use. She was trapped. The sound of footsteps echoed through the room, growing louder with each passing second. Luciana's skin crawled as a baritone, husky voice whispered in her ear: "Welcome to your new home."

“What are you going to do to me? Kill me? I have heard that a million times!” She leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "Trust me, Bitch. You don’t want to find out. Because things could get messy. Very messy." She bit my earlobe, making me flinch. Before I could protest, the other cellmates closed in on us. They were all wearing the same orange jumpsuits and sneakers. They looked like a gang of thugs, ready to cause trouble. They laughed and cheered as they saw their boss holding me. "Look who we have here," one of them said, pointing at me. "The new star player. How do you like your new hairdo, you wolfless bitch?"

Charlotte was better at it, the foolish girl, and despite the fact that I hated her she gave me a new hobby, a new secret pleasure, the pleasure of watching someone peel oranges. But now I had a new secret pleasure. And this time, it was the pleasure of watching someone eat oranges. Joanna was perfect at it, and it made me ignore the fact that she was truly horrible at peeling oranges, or that she did not know which orange was ripe to peel, and would spray the most. When she ate them slowly the way she she did, I was moaning inside, yearning to touch her. Nothing was supposed to be sensual about eating oranges. But I already admitted that I was abnormal.