The Inmate Novels & Stories

“Uhm…an inmate. Her name is Lenora.” The officer gave me a stern look before typing something on his laptop. Then he faced me again. “Who are you to the inmate?” I cleared my throat. “I'm here, brother.” “You know your sister was arrested for attempted murder and physical assault, right?” He had a frown on his face. “And aren't you the one who was in those clips and articles that were released of the man who bullies his wife?” He looked like he was ready to punch me square in the face. If we weren't in a place that was literally built against violence, I'm sure he would have.

I know who I am that's why I said this I will live here as a normal criminal and I want each and every media to cover my pictures, take my pictures and give it to them, everyone who was present there didn't understand anything. They just nobbled their head and his best friend walked out from there, in a way Bennett said to himself what he is doing? What is going on in his mind? On the other hand, Inanna sits in her bed and watches the television. Her boss's news is there. She smiles and says the womanizer man deserves this only. On the other hand Adrian sitting in a prison and thinking something very deeply, he said to himself you have to pay

"Hey, who are you? Are you planning to take the girl away? Take me too!" "Please, take me too!" "Me too! Help! Help! I need your help!" "I'll pay you for the rest of my life, as long as you free me!" "Me too! I'll do anything if you help me!" "Help! Help! Help!" Instantly all the prisoners were in an uproar and they tried to whine at the man. The man looked increasingly agitated and a little scared as they were all noisy now. Which made the man just stare at Selena who covered her ears because of the noise and commotion.

Dolores’s words rang in her head: "In here, you’re just another inmate." Clara clenched her fists. "I’m not like them," she muttered to herself. "I’m better than this. Better than all of them." But the harsh reality of her situation refused to be ignored. Her once-powerful name, her influence, her wealth-it all meant nothing here. In this place, she was just Clara Hemp, inmate number 5427, locked away from the world she had once controlled. The hours dragged on, alone, with the silence never letting up. Clara's mind turned bitter and then desperate. She could not believe this was the end of her story. There had to be a way to rise again, to reclaim the power she once held.

The warder had a stern look on his face. "But he has no family.” An inmate commented. "Yes. You are right. I am a prodigal son but I never returned home.” Speedy joked and they all laughed. The warder unlocked the cell. "Hey speedy, maybe the old man is ready to get you out of here.” Another inmate said to him. The warder placed a handcuff on his wrist. "It better be him because I have waited for too long and I am beginning to run out of patience.” Speedy grimaced in anger.

he sighed after debating so long in his head and hold my hands in his letting my cold hand relax in his hands warmth and love . " it much better than living in prison because you don't know my child what life a woman lives in prison .. the work which they do as punishment is other thing but rapes , abuse and other things like selling their organs are commonly happened in prisons under the nose of jailers and no one can do against it since no one have any proof .. I am aware about it because I was a police officer and once I had taken a case which was closed by the victim woman request itself , that's why I was frightened for you because I knew that you wouldnt be able to survive in there . m

He was currently penniless and had previously escaped an attempt at hardship. The past winter, once again being hungry and frigid, he had allowed a patrolman to capture him. Alas, this time the ploy failed: when he was brought before the umpire, he was considered too old to go to an orphanage, and he was thrown into a penitentiary instead. Prison had proved to be a disastrous price to pay for some bread and a roof over his head. The situations were even more desperate than in the orphanages. He was in a tiny, moist cell with dozens of other felons, with a few dusty chunks of straw for a pallet. His fellow inhabitants were a blend of hoboes like himself, trivial fugitives, debtors, madmen, dr

Ivan was charged as an accomplice. In the end, Wendy was sentenced to ten years, Ivan to one year, and the university expelled both of them. The rest of my classmates were forced to drop out because they could not pay their tuition. As for me, I went to the countryside and helped more children build lives beyond the rural area.

He just watched me, like he could see through the bullshit, but wasn’t ready to call me on it. Finally, he said, “The inmates who sparked the fight were detained. Ice Cell. Seven days. That’ll buy you a little breathing room.” I smirked faintly, though it tugged at the stitches in my side. “Detained? That’s a pretty word for frozen alive in a box.” “Call it what you want,” Tommy replied evenly. “It keeps them from finishing the job.” For a second, the room was quiet. Just the beep of some monitor tracking my vitals, the scratch of Anaba’s pen against her clipboard. My body ached like hell, but my mind? My mind was a firestorm of rage and restlessness.