The Prisoner: A Novel Novels & Stories

"Oh, hey. Ms. Rodriguez assigned our new book for social studies. We're doing a unit on redemption and criminal justice." My stomach tightened. "What book?" "Some memoir by a guy who went to prison. 'The Monster I Was.' Have you heard of it?" Nova dropped the spatula. Elena looked up. "What? Is it bad or something?" I moved to look at her phone screen. There it was. The book cover with Darren's face—older, gentle, reformed. The face of a man who'd found peace. The face of the man who'd shot me. "Elena," I said carefully. "Who's the author?"

This place isn’t protecting the outside world from him, instead, it’s protecting him from the outside world. His bed’s got extra pillows, there’s a sleek set of headphones on the table, and there’s even a small stack of books that look like they belong in a CEO’s library, not a prison cell. I frowned as I flipped the pages of the book. The title says, “How To Be A Millionaire”. I didn’t know he was such a nerd for life changing books. Is this how he got everything he has in the prison? I bet half of this stuff he stole from the other inmates.

I saw Juaqin in front of me. I am here in a warehouse, my feet and hands tied to a chair I am sitting in, “Juaqin help me!” I said to him. I tried my best to free myself, but it was not happening because I was tied tightly. “Have you read the novel written by Mantus Taylor entitled ‘The murderer’s perfect crime?’” He asked me. “What do you mean?” I asked, which made him laugh sarcastically. I don’t understand him!

It didn’t help that my nose was sensitive. “Fuck you, Liam,” he spat, his head down. “Hey, Alpha,” said another voice. I looked down and saw the prisoner on the concrete floor, on his knees. Chains bound his arms to his back and his ankles were cuffed, connected to chains that were held securely to the same wall as I, just below me. “Now that you’re awake, how about figuring out a way to get us out of here?” I knew I smelt something familiar and equally repulsive!

Faces - Raven, Callen, Lyra, Ezra - twisted, warped, turned into spinning, multicolored shadows that danced and shattered like a kaleidoscope. He let out a guttural cry, sweat pouring from his forehead as his eyes rolled. After more than ten minutes, his body finally began to still. His gaze turned blank, vacant, no longer showing defiance or willpower. As if his soul had fallen into a void. Only then did Lyra step forward. Her gray-blue eyes locked onto the glassy stare of the prisoner. She spoke, “Who are you?” The prisoner twitched slightly. His lips moved as if talking in a dream. A moment later, he muttered hoarsely, distorted, yet clear enough for all to hear,

THE PRISONER (Damien's POV) The world had become a cage. A gilded, luxurious cage, but a cage nonetheless. Every window in the Blackwood Empire skyscraper offered a breathtaking view of New York City, a kingdom I was supposed to help rule. But now, all I saw were potential threats. Every anonymous van, every figure standing a little too still on the street corner, every wrong-number call on my office line sent a jolt of pure terror through my system.

“Got it. Pretty. Boy. Princess of Cellblock C. We’ll find your vibe eventually.” He turned away and began reorganizing his things—again. He was indeed pretty, in a very masculine way. I doubt he wasn't already having a hard time with the rest of the prisoners. Oh, the things I've seen them do to guys this attractive as him…well, lucky him, he should be grateful fate made us cross paths. Now we're roomies, I will shield him from the starving gazes of the inmates. Also, I noticed he had actual labeled bags. A stack of books. Color-coded.

Better than nothing. Kael jerks his chin forward, silent, steady. The prisoner drags himself upright, one hand pressed tight over his bleeding ribs, shard flashing like a last prayer. No words. No time. We move. I don’t know if we’re running toward freedom or just deeper into something that will wear our skins like trophies. It doesn’t matter. The only way out is through.

Nora found that spark of hope again. Once he was gone, she caught the whispering voices of the guards outside the open door. "How is she even alive?" one asked. "It's been four days without food or water, right?" The other guard agreed. Nora's heart started pounding in fear again. She could almost hear the gears of thoughts turning in Dante's mind. Him inching closer to truth.

There was no way for such hurt to ever be forgotten. No one showed up on the day of Zachary's sentencing. It served as a kind of punishment for him as well. Later on, I heard from John that Zachary took his own life while in prison. With his dying breath, he continued to apologize to Marie, John, and me. Once I heard that he was dead, the last of my anger dissipated. I still resented him, of course. How could I not? I resented him for betraying me and our marriage, for not trusting me, and for indirectly causing Marie's death as well.