The Inmate Book Novels & Stories

In business, one’s hand must get dirty with blood to smell money. He stood up and turned to the bookshelves behind him. His fingers began to trace every book until he got to it. The one which he had replaced its contents with the documents. He had them stapled into the pages as though they were the real book. ‘The Weightiness of Guilt’ reads the title. It used to be his favorite book since he bought this estate. It had helped him a lot in navigating his guilt. Now, none of Sinclair’s men could break into his estate or get past the heavy security in it. None of them.

Closing her eyes for a moment to steady herself, she finally lifted her hand and knocked. A faint voice from inside answered, "Come in." Jennifer opened the door and stepped inside. Sitting behind the desk was the same officer she had seen before....the one who never seemed to care much about what prisoners did, the one who treated everything as if it didn’t concern him as if he loved the chaos going on. His eyes moved lazily to the number tag pinned on her uniform and he raised a brow. "Inmate 2310?" he read out loud. Jennifer walked further in until she stood directly in front of his desk. Her fingers curled at her side, but her voice was steady.

"Always remember to ask what anything given to you is for. No one does anything for the sake of it around here." I run my fingers along the spine of the book and I frown internally. No embossed title and no visible one on the front of the cover too. A book without a name is strange, so I took Cain's advice. "Can I know what it's for?" "It's a case file. Inside is the code and conducts you'll need to adhere to if you know you want to live here with as little trouble as possible, and there's also something else in there. Something that might help you in the next three days, so take it or leave it."

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.

He laughed, “Oh no, young lady. You wouldn’t be allowed to keep those.” I just wanted to punch this guy for keeping me in suspense for so long. Thankfully, he pulled out a file for me to read. “I’ll tell you what the Prison Protection is all about.” “Oh, I’m dying to find out.” He smiled at my sarcasm, “We have abundant supply of powerful male inmates here, those who are trained fighters, and some who are just good at being territorial.” Gosh, I didn’t like where this man was going with this.

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

You have the full right to refuse and that refusal will carry no consequences for the inmate's programme participation. She said: what is in it. The woman said: I am not permitted to share the full content, but I can tell you that the letter contains what the programme describes as an apology document and — the inmate has requested me to convey this specifically — an explanation. He stated that the explanation addresses something he believes you have been waiting to understand. A silence. She looked at the road ahead. George looked at her. The woman said: do you wish to receive it. She did not answer immediately.

Mary watched the security guard walk off and turned to her. “Who the hell are you?” The inmate asked, rubbing her wrist and frowning. She kept staring intently at Mary and secretly prayed she was not getting yet another sue thrown her way for a crime she had committed while trying to take Lydia down. “Hi Jennifer Biltsy or would you like to be referred to as Jenny or inmate?” Mary asked and the iinmate looked at her with annoyance.

Oh, how sad! "Inmate, turn around and put your hands behind your back here on the bars." A rude little woman, dressed in that horrible guard uniform, appeared at the cell door. I don't know who came up with the idea that black is slimming - that woman looked like a rolled-up mattress dressed in black. "Why? Is someone here to see me?" I asked without lowering my head. I didn't lower my head for anyone.