Fallen Angel (Pt. 7)

Basil assumed it was the next day. There was no way to tell in his dank, dark, lonely prison. “Basil, we will be moving you to a different room now. You can have some company!” the woman’s shrill voice said. Oh great, he thought, company. Probably one of them.
A door emerged out of the dirty concrete wall, and he followed the dark hallway into a room that said “Official Personell Only.” Basil sighed. “Oh, it’s unlocked,” came the woman’s voice.
“Thanks,” he murmured, and pushed open the rusty door. What he saw was not at all what he had expected. It was a room very different than his: this one was all-around stark white, and had one glass “wall” separating the two sides of the large room.
“Go to the left,” came the woman’s voice. Basil walked to the left side of the glass wall and sat down. “Here’s your company,” she said again.
And a girl walked in. She had scraggly blonde hair, smudged mascara, a torn and dirty black dress…

and wings.

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