Nephilim and the Nun

Quinn:

I patiently waited for the woman for what felt like a whole day but couldn't have been more than a few hours. Tired of sitting on the sigil, I stood to my feet, pacing about the cell. If she was genuine, I couldn't tell. All I could do was hope it would be my chance of escaping my impending death. I paced around the cell till my feet began to ache, yet I didn't stop to sit. My ambition to escape was greater than the soreness of my aching feet. 

A while later, the loud thudding of her now familiar footsteps resounded throughout the basement. A ray of hope came to life in my soul yet I tried my best not to be too hopeful but it was a lost battle. I couldn't help it. She emerged from the shadows, striding towards my cell with purposeful steps. Getting to the cell, she took out a cloth from the paper bag she was carrying and spread it on the floor before taking a seat. I watched with interest, wondering what she was up to. Next, she took out a food container, a bottle of water, and two spoons, placing them close to the bars where we could both reach for them.

What the fuck is she up to? My subconscious gritted out.

"Seat. I delayed your meal in the morning so I could have an excuse to come back here".

Moving towards the bars, I took a seat opposite her, eyes staring intently into hers. Without uttering another word, she opened the food container and handed me a spoon. She dug into the food immediately, tasting it as she always does to confirm it's poison-free. I was agitated but I followed on with whatever she was doing.

After we devoured the food and washed it down with water, she packed the utensils back into the bag. 

"Turn around". She commanded.

My gaze narrowed down on her. I didn't trust her.

"If you want to get out of here, you better obey. You do not have all the time in the world".

the end, my will to escape won my skepticism. Standing to my feet, I turned around, praying it was for

can turn

a pair of tiny frames beside it, the boots I'd requested, and scissors. My

come

I'd been wearing them under

amusement, a sly

to work. Firstly, I cut off the mass of long bushy hair to a shorter length. I should have cut the overgrown beards too but time was running

I growled

hands with some quantity

feel the raw pain she saw in my eyes. Pulling out the scissors, I dipped two of my fingers into the expanded bullet hole, moving them in as far as they could go, to reach for the bullet. Red hot pain blinded and engulfed me, my face squeezing from anguish. As soon as my fingers landed on the little metallic object,

best to wield. As soon as the bullet was out, I

blood from my hands with the dirty white shirt I'd been wearing.

to be okay?". Her words came out soft and concerned. In

covering my bleeding injury. It was the least of my worries because it would heal

musical laughter filled the

ridiculous in my outfit that was almost too tight and barely reaching my toes with the tiny frames