The Prisoner: A Novel Novels & Stories

“Very easy, I want you to be in charge of some prisoner that just arrived. I don’t need him anymore and he does know so much information.” Finally, the man smiled. Oh! It was going to cost her so much. “Dirty business, ah?” “Something like that.” “Well, how is it?” “A poor stupid prisoner that arrived some days ago. He’s accused for selling drugs. He knows much about me. You know? The man is useless now for me.” “How long until the man is killed?” “I don’t know. The sooner the better.” “It’s not going to cost you cheap.” “I do know it. That’s why I’m here. Ask me anything and I’ll redecorate your room.”

In a suburban prison in Rossenville City. "Prisoner 847, Jessie Stewart. Your family's here to pick you up. Try to behave yourself this time. Don't come back." Jessie Stewart numbly accepted a box of her belongings from the prison guard, nodded silently, and followed the instructions to change out of her uniform into the same clothes she had arrived in. A short-sleeved dress that had sat folded for three years, its fabric faded and creased, now hung loosely on her.

Behind the door… Everything. Finally, I saw it. A ladder hanging outside the window. Rage surged through me. I smashed my fist into the glass. It shattered instantly. Fragments flew everywhere, slicing into my arm. The pain was sharp. Clear. And suddenly I remembered the wounds I saw on Mia’s body in the hospital. It felt like a knife stabbing into my heart. Did it hurt her like this too? Was she in pain— just like I am now? In those four years in prison and these past months serving Amelia—

I tried to explain. He didn’t know. How could he? In Silver Prison, food was always thrown on the floor. If you wanted to eat, you had to crawl and eat like a dog. If you didn’t, you starved. “You’re doing this to guilt-trip me for sending you to Silver Prison, aren’t you?” Daniel’s voice was cold. I shook my head quickly. “No, really. I’m just telling the truth.” Jessica patted Daniel’s arm, sighing.

Instead, I turn to leave and start my trek back towards the stairwell. Halfway there, a hand stops me, outstretched from behind one of the cells. There’s a piece of paper clutched in his fist. “Take it,” the prisoner says. “No thank you,” I tell him, intending to step around. “It’s about the rebellion,” the prisoner adds. That gets me to still and look back. The cell is too dark for me to make out much of the prisoner’s face, though he’s wearing the clothing of a guard. Likely this is one of the ones that betrayed Caleb, now suffering the price.

If there was ever such a thing as a trial in all of the kingdom of Dun’s Crossing, perhaps I wouldn’t feel so inclined to help, but in my mind, it should be innocent until proven guilty, not the other way around. I move to one of the cells that has a window and pause to watch the man inside. Tall, with dark hair the same shade as my own, this prisoner has always been my favorite. When he makes a low humming sound in the back of his throat, several large black birds move to perch between the bars of the small opening high in the ceiling. I can never tell if they are ravens or crows, but their shimmering blue-black feathers are beautiful to me. “Water?” I ask, like I always do.

Most of the of the people in the cells are mostly innocent people who Sinclair have put here for not helping his course or finding out about his plans, But over the course of the time I've been here and Adonis became King he has released a lot of people, It wasn't a big prison anyway, we are about 50 inmates here, Life here has taught me a lot about life and making the right decisions at the appropriate time mostly as a man. Me and Rissa are seated on the table after waiting in line to collect our food from the prison cook. When we sat on the steel tables, Rissa bent her head down looking at her food and shook her head, She raised her head back up, “I'm fucking tired of this shit.” She moane

My cell smelled like the refuse ground at the back of the fortress, and except for the lullaby from the mosquitoes, and the scurrying footsteps of the rats, it was as silent as a graveyard. I pray that Baron will be back soon. He will know I'm innocent, order them to fetch me out of the dungeon, and then punish his daughter. My problem is how to survive until Baron comes I nearly jumped out of my skin when the door of the dungeon creaked open and Sarah stepped inside, and in her hand was a tray filled with a bowl of spaghetti, a boiled egg, and a cup of juice.

The driver hesitated before saying, "Mr. Lloyd, a beggar is blocking the road ahead." I forced my eyes open and saw a filthy, skeletal beggar with matted hair, grinning vacantly as she slapped at my window. I lowered it and tossed out a few bills. "Take this and buy yourself something to eat. Don't linger on the roadside. There's heavy traffic. It's dangerous." She wedged her hand against the window, still grinning foolishly. "I don't want money. I've got plenty. I'm the wife of Solaris Group's CEO."

My husband’s old flame killed my father, and I did the time for it. Three years. “Inmate 7734. Pack your shit. You’re out.” I slowly got to my feet. The concrete walls were covered in scratches. Every single one clawed there by my own nails. A tally of my despair. “Move it!” the guard barked, tapping his baton. I walked the long corridor, my footsteps echoing over the ghosts of the past three years. “Isabella Rossi, congratulations on your freedom.” The warden’s smile was so fake it hurt to look at. “Your husband has people waiting for you outside.”