The Inmate Novels & Stories

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.

Being a newcomer and someone who came from a rich background, the other inmates are making fun of her. "Look at this fresh meat. She looks like a model. Are you a high-end prostitute or something? One of the older inmates inquired while looking at her maliciously. Alison sneered, "I'm not a prostitute and my fiancé is about to get me out of here." She cried out while inching away from the other inmates. In her eyes, they are nothing more than a pile of human garbage, a waste of space in this world. Soon another detainee marched to her, "What are you in for, princess?" She asked. This particular inmate had an air of authority surrounding her and Alison knew this inmate was the leader, but she

After all, everyone knows what happens to abusers in prison. Then I was here, in this stinking, ugly, foul place, locked in a cage like I was some animal, isolated from everything, from everyone. They said I would be here for a few days. They call it adaptation, but I couldn't believe anyone could adapt to this, that anyone could adapt to bars, restricted freedom, this slop they gave me to eat. No, adapting was impossible.

Jonah and Alyssa exclaimed in unison, "A prisoner in an orange-colored uniform?" "In the Fifth Prison, orange-colored prisoner uniforms are meant for felons with mental illnesses. They are distinguished from other prisoners by the colors of their uniforms." Sean blinked. "That prisoner knelt before Steven and clung onto his legs as he bawled his eyes out. He claimed that he wasn't mentally ill and that he had not murdered anyone either. He asked Steven to help him with his appeal."

"Why are you being so rude? Do you think I'm one of the employees in that stupid company of yours?" Dustin shook his head, his body shivering, "No...no." "Good," His inmate said with a sheepish grin. "Why haven't the cops come to take you like the others? And apart from the fraud case you're involved with, what other crimes are you here for?" "I'm not a fraud—" his words got interrupted by a sudden slap on his cheek. Dustin teared up as his lips quivered out silent sobs. "Why did they bring these degenerates here?" he cried inwardly. "Even if there wasn't enough room to contain all the criminals, couldn't they have gotten a better space for me to stay in?"

"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.

It turned out that the inmates locked up there were all serious criminals—ruthless and unforgivable characters. Jade's chances of survival were slim being locked up with them.

Michael‘s POV In the grim confines of my cell, the air hangs thick with despair. The stark, gray walls echo the chilling stillness that surrounds me, a constant reminder of my isolation. Yet, amidst this dreary solitude, my status ensures a degree of untouchable authority—courtesy of my old friend, Officer Jenkins. His subtle nods and discreet passes of extra comforts affirm that, even here, my influence lingers, warding off any potential threats or discomforts from less sympathetic inmates.

They pulled me towards the exit. “Where are you taking me?!” I exclaimed, trying to break free from their strong, aggressive grip. “I demand to know right this instant!” “Shut up!” one interjected. “You’re in no place to demand anything. In here, you’re not some king. You’re just a criminal, the same as all the other inmates in any prison.” “You’ll regret your words,” I shot back at him with a ruthless expression. “That I promise you.” Growling, he tried to hit me in the face with the baton he had, but the other guy stopped him by grabbing his wrist just in time.