The Inmate Novels & Stories

Then, softer, “I miss us.” I clench my fists. “Stop making this about you, Mother. I’m the one trapped. I have no life. Locked inside like a prisoner. Even mice get to see the outside.” “You know this is for the best. We need to be sure you’re ready before facing the public.” “I know I’m a disgrace.” “Don’t say that!” Her hand flies to her chest, wounded. “You know that’s not true. We’re protecting you.” “By taking my life away?” A bitter laugh escapes. “I’m rotting in here.”

The man is less older than fifty, not so big in his body, but he can't see his face, because his back is turned to him Dear new cellmate, Mahone utters silently, then drops himself on the single bed. Who knows what kind of criminal you are. A psychopath? Child abuser? Sex defender? A murderer? Or maybe, if God helps, a drug dealer? He sighs and puts an arm below of his head, shutting his eyes "Why aren't you in juvenile prison?" a deep, gentle voice comes from the upper bed Mahone lifts himself up, "Who are you? He hears a chuckle in reply. "It doesn't matter who I am, does it? Fine, my name is Two G.

Ayodele asked. “Someone stole the concluding part” he replied. “get out my class!’ she ordered “ you may take a man out of the village but you can never take the village out of a man” “Good afternoon class. I would talk on THE HISTORY OF THE PRISON SYSTEM AND REHABILITATION. As I procede, I hope you learn a few things. The definition of incarceration is the state of being confined in prison.

Author’s POV… Deep in the Lunar Fangs dungeon, the food servant went round the cells of the special inmates who weren’t allowed to leave the cells to have their meals. Because these prisoners were regarded as dangerous, they had their bathrooms right in the cells and were never allowed to come out. The servant had gone round serving food, and had reached the cell of a certain inmate who hadn’t been returning his plates. “Bring out your plate, or you won’t be served your next meal,” the servant warned.

Its towering walls stood as a testament to confinement, a stark reminder of the consequences awaiting those who dared to cross the line of law. Within the confines of his cold and dimly lit cell, Colton sat in solitude. The echoes of his footsteps resonated against the barren walls, bouncing back as a haunting reminder of his current reality. His once stylish attire was now replaced by a plain, prison-issued uniform, a stark contrast to his former life of luxury.

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.

That she might give me one last chance to explain myself before the jury decides my fate. Prison is exactly as terrible as I imagined it would be. The food is barely edible, the bed is a thin mattress on a metal frame, and the other inmates range from indifferent to openly hostile. Most of them know who I am. The news anchor kidnapper. The rich lawyer who thought she was above the law. They don't like me, and I can't blame them. I wouldn't like me either.

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.

Tuesday Night. NYPD Detention Facility, Manhattan. The holding cell smelled of bleach, old sweat, and despair. Selene sat huddled in the corner of the metal bench, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her grey suit the one she had worn to court thinking she would walk out a free woman—was wrinkled and stained. Her hair was a matted mess, the elastic tie long gone. She wasn't the polished executive anymore. She was just Inmate 8940.

While some of the nurses—who Deloris discovered were rarely actually registered nurses—napped in a nearby chair waiting for alarms or commotion from their patients, others read or stared for hours on end at their cell phones, no doubt heightening their social media status with pictures of kittens and puppies or better yet, political propaganda. Adelaide’s nurse, a big burly man named Mack, was fond of his social media, yet he often chose sleeping as his favorite way to pass the time. As I eased through the entry from the courtyard—the one that Isaac had left unlocked—I envisioned the scenes I’d watched multiple times. I recalled Mack securing Adelaide’s hands. I heard his tenor as he mocked