Prison Door Scarlet Letter Novels & Stories

Another guard had fallen and as this new person instructed walked up to scarletz he could feel his legs grow heavier with each step he took closer to her. “Let her go, Ms Gift allowed it,” he eventually announced when he was a chair away from the guards who were ready to sacrifice anything to keep her from getting closer. “But…” “You heard that,” Scarlet said as she shoved the other guards aside and stealthily made her way to the table with twenty one women. No doubt she was raging. “You did that intentionally didn't you?” she asked gift the moment she got to her side, but Gift's smile only grew bigger as she stuck her tongue out at her and tapped her own eyes with her index finger.

he seethes before turning and storming out, leaving the threat hanging like a guillotine blade. Back in the solitude of my cell, I ponder over the twisted paths that led here. Guilt gnaws at me, a foreign sensation that I try to dismiss. I think of Emma, of Scarlet—both caught in the web of my making. Scarlet's words echo, a haunting reminder: "I'm not a mockingbird to be caged." Emma's, too, resonated with the same fierce desire for freedom. In my quest to control everything, I'd failed to understand the simplest truths about love and devotion.

Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs changed naturally into pity and contempt as he turned over the almost endless creations of the last century; and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own history with an interest which never failed. This was the page at which the favourite volume always opened:

They all fell on their knees without a word. Scoffing, he dipped his palms into his pant pockets. “Scar!” A man dressed in complete black stepped forward from behind, “Yes Boss.” “Lock them up. Make sure none get even a drop of water until my son is found.” “Yes Boss.” Scar turned his gaze to the six kneeling men and immediately, they got on their feet and followed him without a struggle. Lauren carefully parked the bike in its designated corner with a sigh. She was done with her last job for the day—home delivery.

She was just always my Butterfly. As I go into the last cell, I see one of the bricks is loose. I go over and pull it out to find a metal box inside. I carefully open it as the metal is still a little hot and find a journal made by Serenity while she was being held here. I cringe at some of the things they did to her. I smell both Scarlett's and Charlotte's scents on the journal. I put the journal back into the box and made my way around the other cells until I came to the last cell by the door and found a brick that was loose in there, too. Behind that brick was another metal box. I open this one and smell Scarlett's scent and this was a mix of old and fresh. I pull out some of the notes th

And suddenly with a 'cot' sound one lock opened. Both women got excited as Scarlett helped themselves out of the chains. ****************** "Do you think, they are coming?" Scar asked as both women stood in a dark corner of the empty room. They freed themselves and now waiting for the door to open because after checking the whole room they realised, the untying situation didn't work for them. After all, the whole room has only one entrance, the main door. No windows even. "I..." As Gianna tried to speak, they heard the unlocking sound of the door.

10 a.m. — Police Station The metal door of the police cell opened with a harsh screech. “Please step out, Miss Whitemere,” a police officer said softly. Scarlett stood up immediately from the hard chair and hurried out of the cell, afraid that if she delayed even for a second, the officer might change his mind. Her movements were rushed, almost desperate. Her face had gone pale. The glow she always carried, the pride she wore like a crown, was completely gone. Her eyes were sunken, dark and tired, filled with exhaustion and fear.

"Didn't know she would murder my parents? Didn't know she would steal my entire legacy? Or didn't know she would humiliate me in front of the world?" Clark was speechless. "Or," I continued, "did you know all along and just chose to look the other way?" "No! I really didn't know—" "Then what about this?" I turned my back to him and unfastened the top of my tunic. A gruesome scar ran from my left shoulder to my right hip. The eclipse curse had turned it a sickly silver-black, and it still seemed to writhe slowly, eating away at my life force. Clark's breath hitched.

Dread filled the Matron as she turned to look back at Scarlet, who was already backing away from the Matron and out the door on the other side of the dining room. The Matron ran to the closest door only to find it had been barricaded during the conversation with Scarlet. Running to the other side of the room, the Matron approached the door Scarlet had left through and found it unlocked and unimpeded. Cackling as she made her escape from the room that was filling with smoke as the fire burned through the wall of the dining room, the Matron made her way through the building to the nearest door to the outdoors. Arriving, she reached out and pulled the handle only to discover that the door would

Dante’s POV When I returned to my place, the silence didn’t soothe me. It only made her voice louder in my head. Scarlet. The same woman I once touched like she was sacred. The same woman who lay in this very room, tangled in sheets and moonlight, her breath soft against my chest as we unravelled one another. Now, she was a prisoner. And I... I was expected to decide whether she would live or die? What kind of twisted, merciless joke was this?