The Prison Project Novels & Stories

Curled up on the floor, bleeding and crying, I whispered, “I’m sorry… I’m a stray dog. I don’t deserve Alpha… I won’t love him again…” When my period stopped, I feared I was pregnant with Alpha’s pup and begged for medical attention. Instead, they laughed harder. “Where’s the pup, huh? Show us what’s so special about Alpha’s kid,” a guard mocked, jabbing my stomach with his baton. They pushed me until I blacked out. I woke on a cold operating table to the sound of a doctor’s derisive chuckle. “Pregnant and sentenced to Silver Prison? Were you screwing around outside? Irresponsible floozy.

Moving boxes, unboxing. What were in those crates were building materials that were shipped from the Edinburgh boarders---so as I heard. Once again, the prison system’s aim is to turn us to laborers with no wages. Whatever the project was, we were gonna be the ones to build them from the scratch. Soon, I joined part in the activity. Lifting up heavy crates from their original position to a new a position where they will be unboxed. Seven guards watched from all angles. It would have been a lot better if my old man Manny was here with me---he was assigned to different duty. At least we would have chitchatted all the way. Right now, my hands carried heavy loaded crates, and my mind carried the

Even with how thin she had become. Despite everything, she felt this hope awakening inside her. There was a shower waiting. She tried to remember the last time she'd had one and failed. Nora closed her eyes as she stood under the hot spray. She let the water wash away weeks of grime. It felt as if she were washing away the prison itself. Her skin tingled with warmth. And renewal. The steam was like a comforting blanket that wrapped around her. She just wanted to stay there forever. Just to savour this rare moment of comfort.

Rose's point of view: Mom and I reached the building where the members of the Hidden Race were imprisoned. The dungeon was very dark and dark. From the door, we could only see a few pale yellow and rusty incandescent lamps emitting a dim light. The floor was covered with black water with smelly excrement. The prison was like a putrid sewer. More than a dozen soldiers in charge of guarding the door were all outside, probably because the nauseating smell was unbearable. Our soldiers were quick to eliminate the prison guards.

The headlines now read like love letters to their corporate marriage. My fingers tighten around the phone until my knuckles go white. Ten years in that hellhole of a prison, and for what? To watch them parade around like some power couple success story while I scrape together schemes that fall apart faster than wet tissue paper. The bell above the door chimes. I glance up, and my breath catches. Elizabeth Walton.

No matter what it takes or what it costs, I will ensure your safety and help you reclaim everything that belongs to you. … The next evening, Cyrus, Alyssa, and Jonah were in the cellar of Heightsnew Villa. "What did you say? They had a fake prisoner take his place?" Cyrus raised his brows in shock. He was so surprised that he almost crushed the wine glass in his hand. "Did they fucking think the surveillance system in Solana City's prison is just for show? Are they trying to bring The Shawshank Redemption to life?" Alyssa swirled her wine glass while propping her chin up with her other hand. "It sounds more like The Shawshank Exchange to me."

My name is Riley, and today is the day Roman gets out. I have been counting down for three years, two months, and fourteen days—ever since the judge’s gavel fell and they took him away in chains for a crime he swears he didn’t commit. Armed robbery. Ten years reduced to four with good behavior and a letter-writing campaign led by an eighteen-year-old girl who barely knew what she was doing. Me. It started with a school project—write to a prisoner, learn about the justice system. I picked his name off a list because his mugshot looked sad, not scary. Dark hair, sharp jaw, eyes that stared straight into the camera like he was daring the world to blink first.

He leaned back in his chair, gaze fixed on the table for a moment. “I was caught hacking a site.” I raised a brow. “That sounds more like you.” A few people laughed. Jason did not. “It turned out the site was a trap,” he continued. “Built by the military to attract hackers they considered useful.” Scott lifted his glass. “Ambrosia Project.” The name settled over the table with immediate recognition. Even those who had been smiling grew more attentive. Jason nodded once. “They gave me a choice. Prison… or the program.” I studied him quietly.

Before the reporters could even process the move, she pressed her attack. “These historical injustices,” she said, her voice ringing with a powerful conviction, “are detailed in a file that has come into my possession.” She held up a thick binder containing a printed copy of the Iris Project file. “It details a secret, systematic program called the ‘Iris Project,’ which used fraudulent medical diagnoses to imprison dozens of women on behalf of some of this city’s most powerful men.” The room erupted. Reporters were shouting questions. Camera flashes went off like a volley of gunfire.

“You were in charge of the Shelter Project, weren’t you?” Bjorn’s face paled slightly. The Shelter Project had been all over the news about a year ago; it was allegedly Prince Bjorn’s baby, a highly anticipated social welfare project for orphans.