The Inmate Book Novels & Stories

Santi's eyes lit up as he looked at all the desserts, savoring them in his mind. "But first, you'll have to have dinner, and then you can have one," Bruno said. "And what are those other boxes?" Nicole asked. "They're books for me," Bruno replied. Nicole opened the boxes; they were all books about pregnancy and baby care. "Hahaha, are you going to read all of these?" she asked, finding it amusing. There were so many. "Of course, that's why I bought them," Bruno made a face. Apparently, she didn't believe he would actually read them.

They’re not going anywhere any time soon. The cells are comfortable, downright humane compared to other dungeons I’ve seen, but they are still prison cells. There’s nothing inside but a toilet, a basin to wash in, a somewhat comfortable cot, a cabinet for personal belongings, and a chair. I allow my current inmates books and magazines, but that’s as much entertainment as they’re going to get. Isaac is given more freedom, and I leave his door unlocked, but Maggie will not see the outside world until she realises that Easton isn’t the god she made him out to be in her head.

Chapter 4: The Cracks in the Mask Alexia The dim light from the overhead bulb flickered, casting fleeting shadows across the damp walls of my cell. I stared at the steel door, my mind a whirlpool of confusion and despair. Each second dragged into an eternity, the silence broken only by the occasional drip of water from a leaky pipe.

I left Aaron for the meantime on the part where the fountain pens are to go to the novel section. Since I saw Sophie Lark's Brutal Prince on TikTok's recommendation, people who have read this say that it has a strong female lead. I enjoy books of that genre, therefore I may be interested in reading it. I looked at the shelves. I also picked up a book and read the synopsis on the back when Aaron came to me here. "You like reading books?" he asked. I turned my eyes on him, "Uh, sometimes. If I'm interested in the plot," I answered.

note that this is illegal. With a deep breath, Athena clicked on the files Jay had sent her, and a series of mugshots filled her screen. Five faces stared back at her, each with a haunting story to tell. The first inmate, Karam Abigal, sent a shiver down Athena's spine. The sheer brutality of his crimes, the annihilation of an entire family, shook her to her core. It was chilling to read that he suffered from depression and schizophrenia, mental illnesses that seemed to contribute to the unimaginable acts he had committed. His impending death in five months added another layer of gravity to the situation.

the prison inmates replies “ I am Attorney , I do not want any thing from you , I have compassion that is why I do what I do . I help in carrying out investigations to help wrongfully detained inmate to acquire freedom once more ” Attorney Ansley explained enlightening the inmate who listened with rapt attention “ You want to help me ? ” The inmate asked in surprise “ Yes I do , I have reschedule a hearing with the court ” the Attorney continued “ what do you want ? ” he asked the attorney

"Hello, Mr. Ingram. I'm the author of 'Day and Eve'. Thank you for recognizing my work. I'll keep working hard." Bruce looked at her coldly and let out a short laugh. "Is 'Day and Eve' really your own personal work?" Wendy nodded, confused. "Of course it is. I wrote it here on the spot. Everyone saw it." The room immediately backed her up. "Wendy wrote it during the competition. We all saw it ourselves." Bruce's face stayed grim. "I'll ask you one last time. Is that piece really yours?" A hint of panic crossed Wendy's face, but she quickly forced herself to stay calm. "Everyone saw it, Mr. Ingram."

Now, my existence is reduced to a number, a prisoner stripped of my title, my fortune, and my pride. The inmates from the other cells snore and groan in their own restless slumber, creating a dissonant sound of despair. Some are murderers, some thieves, and others simply lost souls who have strayed down dark paths. I’m different, or at least I like to think so. I’m not a criminal in the traditional sense, but rather a man whose insatiable greed has driven him to betray the trust of his own kind. Ding, ding, ding!

Maybe they just forgot. I tried not to count the days, but I did. Each one felt the same dull, slow, cold. I kept busy with cleaning shifts and reading anything I could find in the library. The other inmates stopped asking about “the model guy.” Most of them didn’t care. But sometimes, late at night, I’d still hear whispers about him, “That rich guy who got out.” I pretended not to listen.

said Old Joe, standing up. My two inmates lined up before the metal rails and I followed their suit reluctantly. One by one officer came into view as the barrier opened up. We walked in silence, in groups of threes with officers in tow, a baton in their hands. We were led in a canter after some time. Inside were prisoners alike me, lined up for food.