The Prisoner: A Novel Novels & Stories

he screamed. That night, he was imprisoned without knowing what he had done. ... "What is your case?" a prisoner asked when his grandmother's men locked him in a cell. Skye looked at him. The prisoner is sitting on the corner of his cell. "I don't have one." Skye answered. "You look young." The prisoner said and looked at Skye. Skye held his breath when he saw his black hair and brown eyes. "So they really imprison the under aged here...?" the prisoner muttered.

By late afternoon, he was in a permanent cell on the lower level, secured by iron bars, stone walls, and a narrow cot bolted to the floor. I went down there alone after the shift change, and the guard on duty barely looked up when I showed my clearance. The prisoner sat on the edge of the cot when I stopped in front of the bars, recognising me immediately with that same slow smile. “Come to finish the questions?” he asked. “No.” I glanced down the empty corridor once before looking back at him, keeping my voice low. “I need it again, and Inspector Jones is really busy until evening. I don't want to be an encumbrance to him. As for you, you already know how bad it gets if I don't have a cock

“I’ll have you free in a moment and show you the safest way to escape without getting caught.” The prisoner gaped wildly between me and Nicolette as she rushed to free him. I could tell he didn’t trust this, he thought we were somehow trying to trap him. When I caught his gaze, I sighed. “Your mate is quite an impetuous little thing,” I informed him. The prisoner just blinked. “My… My what?” Nicolette released the last lock, and the chains fell to the prisoner’s feet like limp, abandoned rags. For the longest moment, he just stood there, gaping at her, before he glanced down at the chains on the floor and shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

he said, lacing to her plate and then taking up his spoon to his mouth. "How can I eat this monstrosity? It is horrible, and I do not know it, she said, pushing her plate forward and dropping her hand to the table. "And I am the child?" he said, taking another spoon into his mouth. "This," she said, pointing to her plate with her face scrunched up. "This is no different from the food they serve in prison," she said, and he looked up. "Am I still locked up? I mean, I should know," she added.

George was now seated beside the cot, and the prisoner looked even more awake and alert. “Are you going to tell me where the hell I am?” The Prisoner asked, glaring at George. I stepped behind Conner, not wanting him to see me. “How about you just shut up and answer our questions instead?” Conner said, his eyes narrowed. “What is your name?” “I’m not telling you anything until I know where I am!” “The military barracks. You’ve trespassed onto Eboncrest territory, and now you’re going to answer to us. What is your name?”

That made no sense to me at all, especially when I was still in the basement of the man who had brutally killed my family. Five days left, five more days left before my freedom would supposedly be granted, and until now nothing had happened. I thought I would be trapped in the basement forever. I had been counting every single day, and according to Giovanni, it was going to happen today. And now I'm beginning to doubt him because I don't think this will go as planned. Suddenly, the door opened without delay. I slowly stood up. Primo came inside. “Follow me.” No questions were asked; I just did as I was told.

“Your inability to distinguish right from wrong is itself a form of irresponsibility toward patients. “Who’s to say you won’t be the next Tawnie Lowe?” Three years later, I had become a renowned expert in the field. Meanwhile, Tawnie made headlines again. She was dead. She died that very night she was released from prison, stabbed to death by Matthew’s family. He had been the only university graduate in his family. Yet, fresh out of school and just starting his internship, he was sent behind bars. His family was consumed by hatred for Tawnie for ruining their precious son.

He grumbles, taking a more leisurely sip before going back to ignoring his existence. He doesn't ask Neil, he just drops his order of coffee in front of him and moves on to the next person. He quickly places the cup of latte on the table before John who is arguing with Leslie, trying not to gain their attention. He does the same for a now quiet Amos before turning back to Jones. Jones seems to be the only one doing their job by watching the prisoner who is slumped over himself, shirtless in a metal seat. He can't help but run his eyes over the man's tussled grimy blonde hair, his bruised and burned torso, the knife wounds that are still healing, the blindfold around his eyes and the straps t

Applause thundered through the villa as I stood at the edge of the crowd, watching as my heart was carved raw. He had already redeemed our token of love all along, just not for me. I stumbled out of the villa as my phone began to vibrate frantically in my palm. Wanda’s messages came one after another, each word like a knife. [I recognized you at the club that day. Zann Lima is mine, and so is the necklace. You’re nothing but a stray dog. [You might as well go die, Neve Steele.] My nails dug into my palm as I stared at the screen. The taste of blood filled my mouth.

He starts coughing, inhaling the dusty air of the dark dungeon. Faint howling sound is coming inside his cell, but Damien can't figure out the source. He aimlessly tries to find the source. However, he fails and tires himself out in no time. The cell is dark and so it doesn’t matter whether he closes his eyes or not. Because there it will be dark either way. Yet he shuts them and tears roll down his cheeks. While wondering about his sinful life for falling for a devil in disguise, he drowns in sleep and wishes not to wake up ever.