Prisoners Poems Mga Nobela at Kwento

warned the young warden who was holding his stick not to beat the troublemaker duo's backs. Whistling sounds were exchanged between Zayn and Brittany during the trip to the appointment room. The left and the right are not equal because they are not equal. It's really sad to see all these prisoners like dogs tied up in cages, Fed half as much food as they should and chained up extra.

(POV) Edric and Meira are placed in different small prisons. Stay next door. The difference is that the small jail on the left is filled with temporary prisoners whose contents are male, while the one on the right is filled with temporary prisoners whose contents are all women. Edric roared in prison. All his words cursed Meira.

"Forty eight prisoners total. Please do not do that to me. Please." "Get him secured," I ordered my team. "We are taking him with us. He has intelligence the coalition needs." While my team tied up Archon Shade and the incapacitated soldiers, Evelyn and I went to section B. The cells there were worse than anything I had seen before. Small. Dark. Cramped. The prisoners inside looked like they had been there for years. "We are coalition forces," I announced. "We are here to get you out." The prisoners did not move at first. Like they could not believe this was real. Like they thought it was another Covenant trick.

Clearly, they hadn’t been given a restroom, but if the full bucket in the corner was any indication, at least they weren’t sitting in it. He counted five girls, two of the prisoners were curled up in a ball against the brick walls, their knees touching each other, and they picked up their heads to examine their visitors. It was heartbreaking to see that they didn’t bother to get up after Matthew’s flashlight moved over them. The defeat was evident on their face, and he felt his stomach roll. He was determined to get them all out tonight, but how many of them would survive life on the outside? “Get me out of here!” One of the girls shouted, grabbing the bars with one hand while trying to reac

It smells like vomit and piss, but it’s still better than the smell of my own flesh, and far better than some of the wolves have in the adjoining cages. Looking across the row of prisoners, there are several sad souls, their eyes devoid of glow, as if they have forgotten who they are underneath all the fur, teeth, and scars. Reaching out, my fingers sizzle as they touch the wire mesh, and I reach a finger through to get my neighbor's attention. The she-wolf snaps her jaw in warning, the fur around her neck shaved and bruised. “I’m so sorry,” my voice cracks, “I am so so sorry.”

Something that promises to unravel everything I once believed about my past. It’s like the shadows are whispering truths that could shatter my world, and I’m only beginning to understand the weight of it all. I can feel the shift in the air, though I don’t fully understand it yet. The walls that once closed in on me, isolating me from the others, now feel different. There’s a subtle but undeniable change in the atmosphere of the prison. The prisoners who once moved in separate, tense pockets of hostility now linger together in the shadows, a quiet solidarity forming between them.

Finally, I was ushered into the visitation room. It was a small, confined space with a long, narrow window overlooking the prison yard. Beyond the glass, prisoners wandered aimlessly or huddled in groups, their movements slow and measured. The room smelled faintly of disinfectant and stale air. I stood near the window, my gaze drifting across the courtyard. The sun was warm on my face, a stark contrast to the coldness of the room. I thought about the irony of freedom, how some people wore it like a garment, while others barely glimpsed it through steel bars.

"We have a practice where we take out one prisoner every night from the dungeon, and I and my men—we—uh, we have some fun with them." My breath stills. I clench my jaw tight in anger. The fucking pigs. Taking away the prisoners under their care to do such despicable things to them. All because these people have been put under them? Are these the people that the pack shifters realm have deemed fit to live and dine among their packs, while we are cast away as rogues? So these are the innocents who don't deserve to be slaughtered. A dry laugh escapes my lips, and without thinking I swipe my sword against his other ear.

Another prisoner whispered those words under his breath as his entire body trembled uncontrollably, the chains around his wrists rattled continuously as fear consumed him. At that moment, death no longer felt like a distant possibility. “Save us, please save me.” “Please don't kill me.” “Sir please forgive me it was not intentional.” “They forced me to do this I swear.” “Lord save me I didn't mean to do anything evil.” “I was never aware of this in the first place please show me mercy.” The room immediately exploded into desperate pleas as every prisoner began speaking at once, some cried, some begged while others prayed. Others attempted to shift blame onto invisible people who were not pre

When the door finally creaked open, a wave of decay and blood hit them in the face. Ragnar froze in place. The Alpha, who had been shouting about exposing my 'tricks', now stood with a pale face. He was nearly unable to keep his balance. The warden held up a torch and shook his head. “I’ve been running this prison for years. I’ve never seen a werewolf corpse rot like this. Who knows how long she's been locked up in here? “This cell should never have been in use! It shouldn’t have started leaking poisonous gas either. If I had known someone was in here, I would’ve arranged patrols and meals. At the very least, I would've made sure she didn’t rot to death without anyone knowing.”