The Inmate Book Novels & Stories

"He likes listening to you read. There's a difference." "I think anyone would like reading if they had you all cuddled and pressed up against them." Levi added with a smirk. Unable to think of a good comeback, she just stuck her tongue out at them and put her focus back on her book while they laughed. The prison only had a small selection of books but surprisingly, many of them were romance or comedy and a few were philosophical. When she asked about it, she was told they weren't allowed to be exposed to anything violent. They didn't want to 'provoke' prisoners, which was very understandable.

One article I read said that new inmates are the most at risk of getting harmed by older inmates unless they join a gang. Yoké must be feeling really scared right now. He doesn't know about gangs, and a prison environment he'd probably never even imagined before. What is he thinking of me right now? Does he think I've forgotten about him? I need to see him. I need to go see him and just assure him that I'm trying all that I can to get him out of that hell hole. He needs to know that I'll stop at nothing to make sure that he is out of there.

"Such a pretty face… It would be a pity if it got damaged." "Don't touch me." Jade swatted away the woman's hand, feeling a shiver down her spine. When inmates were locked up for a long time without their needs being met, they would turn to their fellow inmates of the same sex. Such things happened often in prison, and the guards turned a blind eye. It couldn't be stopped.

"Inmate Johnson for parole hearing." After a moment, the door buzzes and I walk through. A CO is waiting and I hand him the pass and the counselor gestures towards the seats against the wall. There are already four other people sitting there. These interviews are not typically short, so I know the wait will be a while. I should have brought a book, or even better a pen and paper so I could write Miranda a letter. She still loves getting paper letters even though we talk daily.

"How are you feeling, today Nijo?" "Most of the staff in here just calls me inmate 2849615. I'm almost not used to someone saying my name." I smile. "Well, in nine days, you'll be hearing your name again. You should get used to it." "To hearing my name? Or hearing you say it?” My smile drops. It's not out of the ordinary for inmates to flirt with me. But somehow, when he does it, it seems... Different. It's not lecherous. It's not desperate. It's so casual, like he was hitting on a girl at a bar.

The heavy iron door slammed shut with a deafening boom, locking Kai inside a cramped, damp cell. Kai pulled his knees tightly against his chest as he sat on the cold stone floor, trembling from head to toe. The air in the prison basement smelled like rust and old sweat. Across the dark room, two large, terrifying inmates sat on a concrete ledge, staring at him like hungry wolves. "What do we have here?" one inmate growled, his voice deep and raspy. "A delicate little prince."

The inmate called her names - a whore, a pig, a gold digger, and a scheming woman. It angered her that Victoria grabbed the inmate's shirt and slapped her. She wound up getting locked up in solitary confinement for two days, where she lingered in the dark, a small room with nothing but walls, and it smelled like hell to her. When she got out of the isolation, she learned the inmate was hired by Timothy to harass her from the inside. The same inmate approached her once and frightened her, saying, "Mister Cash says hi and wishes you were suffering in here."

“Sir. Cell block D had an incident. Two inmates fought over—” “Handled?” I cut in. “Yes, sir. They’re in the infirmary. Minimal injuries. But…” O’Rourke swallowed, eyes darting nervously. “The report shows they had contraband. They smuggled cigarettes.” I rose from my chair, towering over the boy. My gray eyes cut into him like blades. “And how,” I asked, voice low with menace, “did that contraband make it inside my prison?” “I—I don’t know, sir.”

I thought that we would stay in some kind of room before we were sent to our cubes or rooms or whatever the fuck they were called, but no, we were assigned to our bunks right on. The inmates with me were sent to their bunks and I had to walk for a while before we stopped in front of an opened cell. “Here is your future and forever home, little sweet bean. I hope that our accommodation suits you and you hopefully would enjoy your stay with us.” The woman said cackling, and I didn’t spare her a look as I walked inside my room like she called it and looked around. There were four beds, two bunks on each side, a stainless steel toilet with a small sink above it, and that was it.

Every week without fail, he sat at a small metal desk in the common area and wrote letters to Irene. At first, they were short and hesitant, simple notes asking how she was doing and offering awkward apologies that never quite captured the depth of his regret. Over time, however, the words began to flow more freely. He described the monotonous days: early mornings in the prison yard, the library hours where he read everything from philosophy to self-help books, and the small circle of unlikely friends he had made among the other inmates. Some were men serving time for white-collar crimes, others carried heavier burdens, but they all shared stories that made Sebastian reflect on his own choic