The Inmate Novels & Stories

The coarse fabric of my neon-orange jumpsuit chafed against my neck with every movement, a constant reminder of the privilege I had so easily discarded. My fingers were covered in raw, stinging blisters that never had the chance to heal. For twenty-six years, my hands had held nothing heavier than a crystal glass of premium scotch or the leather steering wheel of an imported sports car. Today, my reality consisted of a plastic bucket and a twelve-hour shift moving heavy linen bundles for the state infrastructure network. "Hey, Hartley! Look at the central monitor above the guard tier!" an inmate named Miller shouted from the folding racks, letting out a low, appreciative whistle. "Your old m

The cell smelled of sweat and rust. A man was sent to prison. The cell had bunk beds, and strangely, the guy on the top bunk seemed to be mute—he never spoke a word. Not a greeting, not a complaint, not even a grunt when the lights went out. He just lay there, a shape in the darkness, breathing slowly. The man on the bottom bunk—let's call him Marcus—tried twice to start a conversation. The first time, he asked, "What are you in for?" Silence. The second time, he offered a piece of his bread. The top bunk didn't move. After that, Marcus stopped trying.

The Prison Guard & The Inmate My name is Logan Kane. Twenty-six years old. Been a corrections officer for three years, and I thought I had seen it all. Until they transferred me to Block D — the worst wing in the entire maximum-security prison. The place where they put the animals who would rather kill you than look at you. I walked the tier on my first night with my shoulders squared and my baton ready. The lights were low, the air thick with the smell of sweat, piss, and pure aggression. Inmates shouted shit from their cells as I passed. Most of it I ignored.

He admitted his wrongdoing, accepted the punishment of being stripped of his Beta position, and left the territory. How he is now, no one knows.

Mason told me the only reason they have a kitchen is for when the vampire king has human guests around. We lie to the guards, saying it's time for Mom to eat. “Hi, Mason. How are you doing today?” the guard in front of the dungeon says. Luckily, Mason’s good friends with him. He’ll allow me to enter without making a fuss. “I’m doing well. How are you doing, Sam?” Mason asks. “I’m good. You must be here to give the prisoner in cell 201 her food.” “Yes.” “Open the tray,” he says, and Mason does as he asks. He checks the tray for sharp objects. Once he’s sure that there is none he clears us to go in.

Why did they beat him brutally? Maybe they have some enmity with him. After all, the man was not a saint. The world says saints are not safe in this world and that is true but sinners are not safe either. Their sinful deeds make them enemies of others. The same must have happened with the blond man, she explained it to herself. “So is he being treated right now?” Hazel asked her, coming out of her thoughts. “Yeah, Rabiya said he’s in the hospital.” Hazel nodded and got up, still thinking about that matter. She hung the towel on the hanger and went towards the balcony side of her room.

It only makes sense that they will come here, the inner states. In the inner states, the laws are there just to be broken. It is the center of almost all criminal acts because the cops avoid this area like a plague. There are hungry people here also who could do anything to survive. The man grabs my ass and squeezes. I feel my tampon shift and my mood also. There is a fresh anger brewing inside of me. This anger causes my hands to fold ready to vent on anyone. I look at Zuri while taking the man's hand off my butt. She has her head thrown back and her eyes closed while the man holding her uses his teeth to please her breasts.

I think she is hiding something—that thing that she will be afraid to tell someone," the inmate says. "Hmmm, is that so?" That is also what I am thinking of, but whatever it is, it would be useless," the boss said. I would always notice that the inmate looks so interested in knowing what I could be hiding, but I doubt if she knows that. "No, there is something special with her, boss," the inmate said to the boss. The boss looked at the inmate and glanced at me at the same time. She was curious about her comment at this moment. The boss gave

he warned, his voice low as he stepped even closer, making my chest tighten. “I know that. Why were you calling me?” I asked, finally meeting his gaze, though my breath was still uneven. “There’s a new inmate,” he replied, turning and walking away, his tone calmer now. “Really? We got another troublemaker?” I scoffed, a faint smirk forming as I followed him, my curiosity creeping in despite myself. “Who is he? Another shoplifter? A petty thief? Or some small-time criminal?” “In for murder. A mass murderer, to be exact,” he answered flatly.

"Think you are better than us, huh? You aren't special in here, your highness. You are a criminal just like the rest of us. You bleed like we bleed." I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to crash out. I kept my silence, forcing myself to focus on the dirt on the ceiling. The first inmate, not willing to let it go, pressed on. "So, what did you do to get in here, pretty boy? Murder someone? You run illegal fights? Underground stuff? You look like you have seen and tasted blood." A particularly hot-headed inmate, a big brute with a buzz cut and a full arm tattoo, pushed himself up from the bench. The only one in the entire fucking cell swaggered towards me. "Hey! We are talking to you, fancy