In the middle of the autopsy of a nun, the forensic doctor notices a very strange detail on the body, a tattoo with a sinister message on its back. Don’t do the autopsy, please. Wait 2 hours. Minutes later, when the morgue is invaded and the nun’s body mysteriously disappears, the doctor panics when he realizes what was really happening. But, what is this? Is this a tattoo? “What’s that in her body, Dr. Fonseca?” asked Camilo, taking two hurried steps backwards, as if something had pushed him.

His eyes were fixed on the motionless body on the metal stretcher, and the tone of his voice trembled with uncertainty. On the other side of the cold room, surrounded by white tiles and surgical instruments, the most experienced forensic doctor there, Dr. Fonseca, who had just opened a cupboard in search of vistures and tweezers, turned with a frown. What do you mean a tattoo? What did you see, Dr. Camilo? He asked, clearly intrigued as he approached with slow steps.

Lying on the stainless steel stretcher, lay something that was not seen every day in that morgue, the body of a nun. She still wore the black habit well fitted to her young and delicate body. Her face, pale and angelic, looked more like that of someone who was sleeping soundly than that of someone who was lifeless, but she was dead and there was no clear explanation for her death. Camilo, the younger of the two forensic experts, remained silent for a few seconds.

He waited for his colleague to come closer, trying to find the right words for what he had just seen. “Did you see a tattoo on it, Camilo? Is that it?” repeated the senior doctor, trying to understand what it was that made his colleague so uncomfortable. I was looking and noticed an opening in her habit. It looks like there’s a tattoo on her back. I’m not sure,” he replied, visibly disturbed. Fonseca, with the calm of someone who had been in that role for many years, crossed his arms and reflected.

“Maybe it’s just your print or maybe it’s a tattoo?” he said with a brief pause before continuing. Not everyone follows the path of faith from a young age. Sometimes the person lives in the world, marks himself and only then gives himself to religious life. It may be a memory of the past. Nothing strange. Camilo took a deep breath, looked at his colleague and asked something that perhaps he had been keeping since the beginning of that shift.

In all these years here, have you ever done an autopsy on a nun? Fonseca, who had already been working in that morgue for more than a decade, raised his eyebrows. To be honest, never, not even in dreams. I was surprised when the delegate sent the body here. You know, when there is an autopsy it is because there is suspicion of a crime and a murder in a convent. That sounds almost absurd. Surreal or not, Camilo said in a more serious tone. We are in front of a nun and I confess that I am still intrigued with that supposed tattoo.

Fonseca nodded. He seemed to understand the colleague’s concern. Then they began to prepare for the procedure. But before they could begin the autopsy, an icy wind suddenly invaded the room, causing the window to burst open with a bang. The papers on the table flew, the instruments jingled. Camilo shuddered. His body reacted with an intense chill. He immediately turned to the body on the gurney and with a lump in his throat asked, “Do you really think we should do this, doctor?

Touching a nun, someone so sacred?” Fonseca didn’t respond immediately, just letting out a long sigh. His eyes were fixed on the nun’s body and he felt the same chill too. Something in the atmosphere had changed. Still, he spoke firmly. This is our job, Camilo. Whoever it is, we need to find answers. We need to know the cause of death. He paused and completed. Sometimes life puts us in front of things that seem wrong, but are necessary.

The young doctor, still hesitant, nodded his head. The two took a deep breath. The veteran then took the initiative. Let’s continue. Where did you say you saw something? On the back, Camilo replied. By the opening of the habit. There’s something there. Seems. Fonseca approached the stretcher and examined carefully. Let me see. As he approached, he bent over the body. In fact, there was a small tear in the fabric of the black habit and a piece of skin could be seen in it and something strange in it.

 

A dark, small but visible mark. The forensic doctor then looked at Camilo. The two exchanged a brief glance of confirmation. it was enough. “Help me turn it around,” Fonseca asked. With care and respect, the two doctors placed the nun’s body face down on the icy stretcher. Before starting, Fonseca closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and murmured a prayer. He asked God for forgiveness, because although it was his job, touching someone consecrated in that way made him feel a weight on his chest.

“Pass me a pair of scissors,” he asked. Camilo handed him the instrument and Fonseca began to carefully cut the back of the habit, but it took a few centimeters for his eyes to open wide. What he saw there was not a simple tattoo, it was an inscription, something written. “Is there any truth?” murmured Fonseca between shock and curiosity. “I told him, ‘Is there something there, something written,'” Camilo exclaimed, getting even closer. Moved by an urge to understand, Fonseca accelerated his movements, revealing the nun’s back completely.

And then, as if time had stopped, the two doctors froze. Their eyes were wide open, their faces pale, their words lacking for an instant. Neither of them dared to blink. Silence filled the room as if the morgue itself had held its breath with them. Is that what I’m reading, doctor? I’m not imagining things, am I?, Camilo asked, his voice breaking with fear. Fonseca, still with the scissors in his hands, now trembling, answered without taking his eyes off the inscription.

If you’re imagining something, then so am I. as if he needed to make sure of what he saw, as if the eyes were not enough, the experienced Dr. Fonseca extended his trembling hand and delicately ran his index finger over the writing. His lips moved slowly as he quietly read the words engraved on the young nun’s back. Don’t do an autopsy on my body, please. Wait two hours. What they need is in the pocket of my habit. The silence that followed was almost as disturbing as the message.

Fonseca, still leaning over his body, remained motionless for a few seconds as if he were trying to process that. It was absurd, inexplicable, unprecedented. Camilo, taken by an almost youthful restlessness, did not wait for more instructions. He took a few steps forward, leaning over the nun. He glanced quickly over the side of the black habit until he identified two discreet pockets sewn into the fabric. In the first one nothing, but when he put his fingers in the second he felt something. His eyes widened. “Doctor Fonseca, there is something here.

He took the object out slowly and then completed the sentence with a voice broken with amazement. A pen drive. It was as if time froze for a moment. Camilo stood motionless with the small USB device in his hands as Fonseca slowly approached. The older took the object and turned it between his fingers. It was black plastic, ordinary, seemingly harmless, but the feeling that enveloped it was anything but reassuring. What is inside this?, Camilo asked, now with a slightly firmer voice, although his nervousness was evident.

Fonseca analyzed the penrive for a few more seconds, then looked up at his colleague. If that message is true, if she herself left this, then this pen drive may contain some proof, some answer about what happened to this nun. He paused briefly and continued. It is strange that the police have not found him. Maybe they didn’t check carefully. But now that it’s in our hands, let’s find out together what happened. With the flash drive in his hands, Fonseca walked quickly to the next room.

Camilo immediately followed him with his heart beating stronger with each step. They sat down in front of the computer, turned on the computer and waited quietly while the operating system loaded. The tension in the air was almost unbearable. The silence between them was heavy, broken, only by the hum of the computer fan and the nervous taps of Camilo’s fingers on the table. When the system finally booted, Fonseca inserted the pen drive and waited. The screen flickered. Within seconds a single folder appeared.

Camilo pointed to the monitor. It’s a video. There’s a video file there. Fonseca nodded slightly. His eyes were fixed on the screen. “Are you ready?” he asked. “Yes, open it,” Camilo replied, almost breathless. The experienced forensic scientist clicked on the file. The image charged and what they saw next turned their stomachs. The same nun appeared in the video. His face was dejected, pale, and his eyes were full of fear. I was sitting on the edge of a bed, in a simple room, with a cross on the wall and a window at the back.

It was night. The light was dim, but enough to see his expression of grief. If you’re watching this video, it’s because my body is in a morgue ready to go through an autopsy. Or maybe I had an even worse fate,” she said with heavy breathing. I don’t have much time. And then, as if fate wanted to confirm it, loud knocks resounded at the door of the room. The nun looked desperately to the side. Do not trust Ursula’s mother superior.

She is not who everyone thinks. Don’t trust it for God’s sake. Before I could continue, the video abruptly stopped. Camilo put his hands to his head. His eyes widened and he muttered, “It was the mother. The mother did this to him. Fonseca swallowed. He was visibly affected. I don’t know, but the police need to see this immediately. In some way, the mother of the convent is involved, that is clear. They both watched the video again.

They were looking for details, any additional clues. They noticed that it had been recorded with a laptop webcam. The weak lighting made it difficult to analyze the environment, but there was no doubt. It was the same face, the same woman who at that moment was lying on the cold gurney in the next room. They tried to identify shadows, reflections, any hint that there was anyone else in the room, but there was nothing, only the nun’s desperate voice and the knocking on the door. They were watching him for the third time, attentive.

when they were interrupted. A sudden sound made them shudder. Blows, but this time they did not come from the video. Did you hear that?, Camilo asked, turning back. Fonseca got up from his chair with his eyes fixed on the door that led to the morgue corridor. The beatings continued. Three dry, insistent touches, a pause and three other touches. Stay here, see if you discover anything else. I’m going to attend. Fonseca said as he walked with quick steps towards the door. The corridor was plunged into darkness, with the cold lights flickering from time to time.

The blows persisted and a shiver ran down the doctor’s spine. “I’m coming!” he shouted hoarsely, trying to appear firm. As he approached the front door of the morgue, he reached out and slowly turned the handle. When he opened it, the impact almost made him retreat. There, standing in a white veil with a serene face and a sweet smile on her lips, was a woman with a gentle expression. He wore a dark, impeccably aligned robe. A crucifix hung around his neck.

 

It took Fonseca a second to recognize her. She was Ursula’s mother superior. For a few seconds, Fonseca simply froze. It was as if the time around him had slowed down. The nun, standing at the entrance to the morgue, was smiling softly. His face was serene, his gaze fixed and penetrating. Ma, mother, what are you doing here? He stammered, still trying to believe his eyes. The lady, approximately 60 years old, kept her smile calm and responded with a sweet, almost melodious voice.

Good evening, my son. I know you have one of us with you, Sister Gabriela. That name resonated in the doctor’s mind. Gabriela thought for a moment, relating it to the nun’s body that was still stretched out on the metal stretcher in the cold room next door. Yes, the body is here. I am very sorry for his loss, he said with a sorrowful expression. The mother sighed, her chest rising slightly under the dark habit. It’s been very difficult.

Gabriela was a young woman full of life with such a pure spirit. It will be much needed in the convent. Fonseca just nodded his head. Internally he kept wondering what he was doing there so late at night. The visit was unusual to say the least. The mother continued with a more attentive look. The autopsy has already been done. The doctor noted the direct tone of the question, but answered truthfully. We will start the procedure in a few minutes. Why? The mother relaxed her shoulders showing some relief.

A new smile formed on his face, even wider than the previous one. The thing is, my son, that I was in another part of the city when it all happened. I went shopping for the convent. Unfortunately, I did not have the opportunity to say goodbye to Sister Gabriela. He paused briefly and then asked, “I’d like to know if it’s possible to see you one last time.” The instant Fonseca looked into his mother’s eyes again, he felt something strange.

A sudden shiver ran through his entire body, from the back of his neck to his back. It was a different chill, a sign. Despite being a man of science, Fonseca also carried a discreet faith. He believed in God, made his silent prayers in the corridors of the morgue, and also prayed for the souls of those who came there to find the kingdom of God. He had already been in the presence of that mother, other times he had always considered her a figure of peace.

But now, now there was something different, something uncomfortable, something wrong. It was at that moment that everything around him seemed to vanish. Reality dissolved for a moment and Fonseca saw, as if in a vision, a simple room with light walls and a small cross on the bed. In the center of the scene, Gabriela, the deceased nun, appeared walking slowly towards him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, looked him in the eye, and whispered in anguish, “Don’t trust the mother superior, please don’t trust her.” In the blink of an eye, the vision disappeared.

He was back at the entrance of the morgue in front of the mother who was watching him with the same serene smile. My son. She called him, trying to bring him back from the trance. Fonseca shook his head slightly and blinked trying to compose himself. The chill returned intensely and although everything seemed normal to the eyes of whoever looked at him from the outside, a voice resounded in his mind. Don’t trust the mother. Don’t trust the mother. Taking a deep breath, the doctor straightened up and replied, I’m sorry, mother, but only authorized people can enter the autopsy room.

It’s a very strict protocol. I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you to see the body now.” Ursula, still smiling on her lips, bowed her head slightly. But, my son, I need to say goodbye to Sister Gabriela. I need to say one last prayer so that she may depart with God. She spoke tenderly, almost pleading, but Fonseca could not shake away the discomfort she felt. Her heart was pounding. Every word of the mother seemed to carry a hidden weight, as if there was something unsaid behind that request.

Mother. I’m sorry, but I really can’t allow it. They’re rules. If I disobey them, I could lose my job.” The woman stepped forward in her lowest voice full of pleading. Please, no one has to know. Just one last prayer. Fonseca shook his head. I really can’t. I know you will be able to pray for this young woman’s soul at the wake. I’m sure God will hear your prayers. That’s when she saw him, for a split second, the mother’s expression subtly changed.

Her eyes seemed to darken and the smile disappeared for an instant. Fonseca couldn’t tell if he had imagined it or if her face really transformed, even if it was for a second. Before he could say anything else, a scream tore through the air coming from inside the morgue. Doctor Fonseca. Doctor Fonseca, come quickly, it’s urgent. The voice was Camilo’s and the tone of desperation was impossible to ignore. Fonseca glanced quickly at his mother. Excuse me, I need to go, he said, turning and closing the door behind him hurriedly, hurrying off for his colleague’s call.

But he didn’t notice a detail. The mother, with quick movements, had placed her foot under the door before it closed completely. Effortlessly, she pushed the entrance back and discreetly entered the morgue. Her footsteps were soft, almost silent, as she crossed the corridor. Fonseca, further on, ran through the cold corridors, attentive only to Camilo’s screams, which did not cease. Doctor, for God’s sake, come now. You have to see this. The doctor ran with his heart racing and his mind full of questions, but he did not know that the mother was also there a few steps behind.

Observing everything, Fonseca continued to run as fast as he could. Their footsteps echoed in the cold, silent corridors of the morgue. When he turned the last corner, he ran into Camilo. The young doctor was standing at the door of the autopsy room, his eyes bulging sweating profusely, his face pale and an expression bordering on panic. Fonseca stopped in front of him still gasping from the run, and asked, “What happened, Camilo? What happened to leave you like this?” Camilo could barely speak.

He took a deep breath, trying to control the trembling of his hands and replied, “You have to see it with your own eyes. Come on.” Without saying more, Camilo stepped aside leaving space for Fonseca to enter. The more experienced doctor took a hesitant step, feeling a chill run down his spine. Something in the young man’s eyes said that what awaited him inside was not at all ordinary. Fonseca slowly approached the entrance of the room with his heart pounding. When he finally reached the open door and looked inside, he put his hand to his mouth in shock.

Where? Where is she? he asked with his voice coming out in an anguished whisper. Camilo looked at him, confirming with a slight shake of his head. That’s why I’m like this, Dr. Fonseca. The nun’s body, her body disappeared. He disappeared without a trace. Before Fonseca could react, another voice echoed from them. A feminine voice, firm and sudden. What? What do you mean that Sister Gabriela’s body disappeared? Both turned at the same time. It was the mother. Úrsula had sneaked into the morgue without anyone seeing her and now she was watching them with a look full of tension.

No, this can’t be happening, he muttered as he walked through the door slowly. How do you lose a body in the morgue unless No, it can’t be? Fonseca stepped forward with a firmer voice. I told her I couldn’t go in, but the mother didn’t answer. He completely ignored the reprimand. He continued to walk with his eyes fixed on the now empty room, until he stopped a few steps ahead. Then he muttered a single word through gritted teeth. The sound of that word coming from the mouth of a woman who had always been peaceful and devout, caused immediate chills in the two doctors.

It was as if something invisible had frozen the air inside. It was clear, that lady was hiding something, but to understand what was really happening, to know why Sister Gabriela’s body had disappeared, why she had left a recording asking that they not trust the mother, it was necessary to go back in time. Earlier that week, on a seemingly ordinary night at the convent of Santa Barbara, the young nun Gabriela finished her chores in the kitchen.

As usual, I had prepared some cakes for breakfast the next day. It was one of the things she liked to do the most, take care of her sisters with small gestures of affection. Before going to her room, she cut a piece of cake into a hot cake, drank a glass of juice and went to the room of Ursula’s mother superior. He deeply admired that woman. I saw her as an example of faith and dedication. When he reached the door, he knocked twice.

From inside came the calm and familiar response. Between. Gabriela opened the door delicately. He had a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. Excuse me, Mother Ursula. I brought him a piece of cake and a glass of juice, a snack before bed. “The cake is warm the way you like it,” he said as he walked to the table and placed the plate and glass. Ursula smiled. “Oh, Gabriela, you’re really perfect, sister, but you’re going to make me fat like this.” He joked good-humoredly, letting out a light laugh as he brought his fork to his mouth to taste.

“I’m glad you like it, Mother,” Gabriela responded sincerely. “It’s the least I can do. You do so much for us. It’s a pleasure to serve you and to serve God.” After a brief exchange, the young nun said goodbye and left the room. She walked calmly to her room. She sat down on her bed and opened a book. It was part of her routine to read a little before bed. She read for a few minutes, her eyelids already heavy with sleep.

When she felt tiredness overcome her, she closed her book, said a short prayer, and lay down, smiling, at peace for having accomplished another day of good deeds. She was almost asleep when a sudden sound made her jump in bed. A sharp noise, like a stifled scream. Startled, she put her hand to her chest. What was that? She murmured, trying to understand if it had really happened or if she was dreaming. She tried to push the thought away. I must have imagined it. Maybe it was just a dream.

She lay back again, adjusting her pillow, trying to convince herself there was no danger. But her unease grew. Her feet began to move nervously, and her mind couldn’t calm down. What if it really was a scream? What if one of the sisters needed help? Dominated by doubt, she got out of bed. She carefully opened the door to her room. The hallway was dark. No lights on. Everything was silent. The other nuns were probably already asleep. Yes, it must have been me, she murmured, ready to go back.

But then her stomach growled. She smiled to herself. Since I’m awake, I’ll take advantage of the opportunity to eat a snack. She started walking down the hall toward the refectory. Everything was quiet until she turned a corner and stopped dead in her tracks. The kitchen was lit up. Someone was there. But before you continue, give the channel a thumbs-up, subscribe, and turn on the notification bell. Only then will YouTube notify you whenever a new video comes out. Now tell me, are you for or against the autopsy?

Do you really think surgery should be performed on someone who has already passed away to determine the cause of death? Or do you think that regardless of how they passed away, they should just have a wake? Tell me in the comments and tell me what city you’re watching this video from, and I’ll mark your comment with a nice heart. Now, returning to our story, Gabriela stood still in the hallway for a few seconds, staring at the kitchen lights in the background. She frowned and murmured quietly to herself, “But who could be there?” The nuns didn’t usually walk around the convent during the early morning hours.

After the final prayers, everyone retired to their rooms, and rarely did anyone break that routine. In the rooms she’d passed, all the doors were closed, indicating that everyone should already be asleep. Moved by a strange feeling in her chest, a restlessness that went beyond curiosity, Gabriela began walking toward the kitchen. Her steps were slow and silent, and the sound of her feet on the cold tiles echoed softly in the hallway.

Upon reaching the kitchen entrance, the scene before her eyes made her raise her eyebrows in surprise. Sitting in a chair near the refrigerator, greedily devouring a large piece of cake and drinking juice straight from the pitcher, was none other than the Mother Superior, Ursula. “Mother,” the young nun blurted out, confused by what she was seeing. Ursula flinched slightly, but quickly smiled, trying not to hide it. “Oh, Sister, do you think I woke up hungry? I had to come raid the refrigerator.”

God forgive me. He gave a small, sideways laugh and finished. But someone had already cut him. The cake had already been cut. Gabriela narrowed her eyes suspiciously. It was the cake I brought you before bed. Don’t you remember? Of course, of course I remember, sister. “See, it was so good I came back for more,” her mother replied, stuffing another piece of cake into her mouth with visible eagerness. She immediately got up and started looking for more things to eat.

Gabriela watched her closely. Her mother’s habit was disheveled, her hair slightly out of place. There was something odd about her appearance, something that didn’t match her usual posture. “Are you all right, Mother?” she asked even more attentively. “Of course, just a little hungry, but everything’s fine,” she replied, taking a piece of bread with trembling hands. “And what are you doing up at this hour, Sister? I thought I heard a noise, someone shouting.”

“I came to see what it was,” Gabriela explained, crossing her arms, still uncomfortable with what she was seeing. Hearing this, Úrsula roughly put the bread down on the table. “Noise? What exactly did you hear? I don’t really know. It sounded like a scream, but it must have been me.” Her mother seemed visibly relieved. She relaxed her shoulders and said, “Yes, it was you.” Gabriela, still wary, asked permission to sit down and make a sandwich as well. “Sure, sister, sit down,” Úrsula replied, going back to chewing.

The two remained there for a few minutes. They ate in silence, barely exchanging glances until Mother said, “Well, now I’m going to lie down for a bit. Will you accompany me to my room, Sister?” “Sure, Mother,” Gabriela nodded, standing up. The two walked together through the halls of the convent, lit only by the dim moonlight that entered through the windows. Gabriela walked in front, and Mother followed right behind, discreetly looking around as if checking something.

They stopped in front of a door. Her mother looked confused for a moment. “This is it. I mean, thank you, Sister. You’re welcome,” Gabriela replied, smiling slightly. “Good night, Mother.” She walked away and returned to her own room, but her mind wouldn’t rest. As she lay down, she stared at the ceiling for a moment, thoughtful. “Mother seemed a little different,” she whispered to herself before closing her eyes. The next morning, Gabriela got up early as usual. She dressed quickly, tied up her hair, and went straight to the kitchen.

She planned to bake some cheese loaves for breakfast. Afterward, with the help of other sisters, she arranged the table in the refectory. Most of the nuns were already seated, ready to begin the meal, but there was one notable absence. The Mother Superior had not yet appeared. The middle-aged nun, Sister Susana, turned to Gabriela and asked, “Did you see Mother? Has she not gotten up yet?” Gabriela frowned. Mother’s absence was indeed unusual.

She was usually the first to wake up and made sure to lead the prayers before every meal. “I’ll check on her room,” Gabriela replied, already heading out into the hallway. Although she wasn’t one of the most senior nuns, she was close enough to Ursula to knock on her door. She walked with firm steps to Mother’s room. When she arrived, she knocked once. Nothing. She knocked a second time. Silence. A third time. Still no sound. “Mother. Are you there?” she called, her voice slightly raised.

She was about to turn and go back when she heard the lock click. The door opened slowly, and what Gabriela saw left her speechless for a few seconds. Úrsula was there, but completely different. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes puffy with sleep, her face pale and tired. And there was something else: a strange smell, a strong smell, the smell of cigarettes. Gabriela coughed involuntarily, partially covering her nose with her hand. Mother, she’d been sleeping until now. The Mother Superior quickly glanced at the old watch on her wrist, lifting the sleeve of her habit.

“But it’s not even 8:00 a.m. yet. That’s very early,” she murmured. Gabriela frowned. She seemed to have noticed the slip of the tongue early on. She hastily corrected herself. “Sorry, I had a bad night. I had trouble falling asleep after eating so much yesterday, but I’ll get going.” Where do we have to go, Sister? I forgot. And what’s your name? The young nun blinked in surprise. “I’m Gabriela, and we’re going to have breakfast together as usual. Mother, are you all right?”

Forgetting my name. We see each other every day. Sorry, Sister Gabriela. Yes, I’m fine. It was just a bad night, and of course I remember your name. I just had a lapse. That was it. Gabriela nodded slowly, still suspicious. Her gaze slid toward the interior of the room, and then she decided to ask, “And is that cigarette smell?” The Mother Superior quickly closed the door to the room with an almost brusque gesture and responded with an awkward smile. “Oh, my child, it’s because I lit some incense.”

“It’s not a cigarette.” She paused briefly before finishing. “Now I’m going to change and then I’ll go to the refectory right away. Ask the other sisters to wait for me.” “Of course, Mother,” Gabriela replied, trying to sound natural, although her expression reflected distrust. As she walked back to the refectory, her thoughts tormented her. That… That wasn’t incense, it couldn’t be. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. “Calm down, Gabriela, you must just be imagining things.” Inside the room, the Mother Superior approached the window.

Her fingers held a still-lit cigarette tightly. She tossed it out like someone parting with a dangerous secret. “I need to be more cautious or I’ll end up being found out,” she murmured. A short while later, Ursula appeared in the refectory. Her habit was still slightly disheveled, but no one dared comment. All the nuns were already gathered, holding hands, waiting. She looked around and asked, “Are you waiting for something?” Sister Susanna, always the most helpful, stepped forward. “Prayer, Mother, you always lead the prayer.” Suddenly, Mother coughed, her hand going to her throat.

Her voice came out harsher. “Oh, of course. The thing is, I woke up today with a sore throat. Therefore, Sister Gabriela will be saying the morning prayer today.” And she turned her gaze directly toward Gabriela. Surprised, Gabriela took a few seconds to react, but in the face of the general silence, she took the lead. She began the daily prayer, and everyone repeated it in chorus. As soon as they finished, they sat down to eat. Mother, like the night before, ate voraciously.

Each bite was hurried, almost exaggerated. Gabriela noticed and realized she wasn’t the only one. Other nuns also exchanged discreet glances, uncomfortable with this unusual behavior. When breakfast was over, Úrsula called Gabriela aside. Her voice was low, almost conspiratorial. “Since I’m feeling unwell, with a sore throat, today you’ll be responsible for managing the convent. I’ll just observe.” Gabriela nodded, but a strange feeling grew within her. This wasn’t normal. Mother had always insisted on being in charge of everything, on controlling every detail of the convent.

Still, she replied, “Yes, Mother.” By the end of the day, the anxiety inside her was overwhelming. She looked for Sister Susana and spoke almost out of her own accord. “Sister, something’s wrong with Mother. She’s been acting strange since last night.” Susana frowned. “I really noticed she was different, but don’t you think it could just be because she’s sick?” Gabriela crossed her arms. “I don’t know, but even when she’s sick, Mother was never like that. She always wanted to be in charge of everything.”

Well, it must be just me, but I have a strange feeling. I do. Susana placed her hand on her shoulder. Don’t worry, Mother must have just had a bad day. Gabriela tried to convince herself of this. Before going to bed, she prepared a small snack and took it to Úrsula’s room as usual. “Thank you, now excuse me, I have some things to take care of,” her mother replied curtly, very different from the welcoming tone she had had the night before. “Of course, Mother. Good night,” said Gabriela.

But her mother didn’t respond, just let her out, closing the door behind her. Back in her room, Gabriela was slow to fall asleep. She tossed and turned in bed, restless, going over every strange detail of the past two days. She tried to push the thoughts away and convince herself it was all just her imagination. The next morning, her mother appeared earlier. She said a brief prayer and exchanged a few words of faith with the sisters. She seemed a little more cheerful, but something in her gaze still kept Gabriela on alert.

For a moment, she thought maybe Susana was right—maybe it had just been a bad day. That impression, however, began to crumble when it was time for Mass at the convent. Úrsula was at the front of the chapel with everyone gathered when she announced, “My sisters, today we will have a new priest officiating Mass at our convent, Father Eustaquio.” A gentleman with a friendly expression and a green cassock entered, timidly greeting everyone. But in the first few minutes, Gabriela noticed something strange.

He was completely clumsy. He got tangled up in the vestments, forgot the order of the rites, and didn’t deliver a homily; he simply finished with a hurried gesture. And so we finished our Mass, and he left without further ceremony. The young nun sat for a few seconds, confused. This was wrong. A priest didn’t behave like that, much less at his first Mass in a convent. The following days only increased his suspicions. Small details in Ursula and Eustaquio’s behavior caught his attention. The priest began to frequent the convent with unusual consistency.

He would appear at all hours of the day and spend long periods in the Mother Superior’s room behind closed doors. It was strange. With other priests, such meetings were rare and brief, but with Eustace there always seemed to be something to discuss, out of earshot of the other sisters. Something’s wrong with them, I know it, Gabriela muttered to herself. Whenever she spoke to Susanna, she repeated her concerns, but her friend just shook her head and said, “I think that’s a lack of prayer, Sister Gabriela.”

You’re seeing things where there aren’t any. The mother is still the same, and Father Eustaquio may be a little clumsy, yes, but that must be a matter of age. He’s a lovely person. Susana’s words sounded like an attempt to reassure, but for Gabriela, they only reinforced that she was alone in that mistrust. Since no one seemed to take her suspicions seriously, the young nun decided to investigate for herself. She needed to know once and for all whether or not there was anything strange with the Mother Superior.

In recent days, she had noticed strange noises during the early morning: footsteps, doors, muffled sounds, always when all the nuns should have been asleep. And that night was no different. A metallic sound echoed through the convent, the main gate opening. Without a second thought, Gabriela hurried out of the room, barefoot to avoid making a sound. She walked down the dark hallway, guided only by the faint moonlight coming through the windows. Then she saw him. Outside the convent, the Mother Superior was standing wearing only a nightgown.

Facing her was Father Eustakio, but dressed in ordinary clothes, not a cassock. The scene was already strange in itself, but what she heard next made her heart race. “I called you because she’s very aggressive. I couldn’t contain her alone,” Ursula said, her voice thick with tension. “I think you’re wasting your time with her. You should let her die there,” Eustaquio replied coldly. Gabriela, hiding in the shadow of a column, opened her eyes wide.

She couldn’t understand who they were talking about or how a priest could say something so cruel. The Mother Superior retorted, “Are you crazy? She’s my sister. I may not be the best person, but I would never do something like that to my sister.” Gabriela felt a chill run down her spine. Sister. What do you mean, sister? Mother has a sister, she thought, astonished. The two began to walk, and the young nun, moved by pure instinct, decided to follow them. Her steps were light and calculated, so as not to attract attention.

She stayed close enough to hear any conversation, but far enough away to avoid being seen. They reached the chapel. The door creaked slightly as Ursula and Eustakio entered. Gabriela quickened her pace and, as she crossed the threshold, noticed something unsettling. The room was completely empty. “Hey, where did they go?” she whispered to herself. Cautiously, she began to observe every detail. Everything seemed in order, but then her eyes fell on something behind the altar. One of the wooden floorboards was slightly shifted.

“What is this?” she murmured, knelt down, and with effort lifted the wood. The surprise was immediate. There was an opening in the floor, a secret passage. The nun’s heart raced. Only they could have gone there. But what’s going on, my God? For a few seconds she hesitated. Entering that place would have meant risking too much, but curiosity and a strange feeling that she needed to see it with her own eyes drove her forward. She took a deep breath and descended. She found herself in a narrow tunnel with damp walls.

The air there was heavier, and a faint musty smell mingled with something indefinable. In the distance, a dim light illuminated the end of the corridor. To the right, there seemed to be a room. Gabriela walked slowly, careful not to stumble. As she approached, the sight she saw almost made her fall backward. Inside the room was Eustace and the Mother Superior—or at least the person she believed to be the Mother Superior. But there was someone else, another woman, also wearing a habit, though wrinkled and dirty, with a tired and dejected expression.

The most shocking thing was that she looked exactly like Ursula. Identical. The woman was tied to a chair. Her voice was weak, but laced with desperation. “For the love of God, Luciana, get me out of here. I can’t stand being in this place any longer.” The supposed mother, now called Luciana by the prisoner, responded coldly. “Ursula, my dear sister, I’m so sorry, but I can’t let you go. Unfortunately, I’m now the new mother. You’ll have to stay here.” The real mother wept and implored. “No, you can’t leave me locked up in this place, Luciana.”

Let me go, please. Let me go. I’ll help you escape. I won’t tell anyone, just let me go. Eustio intervened, his voice thick with contempt. You should be grateful your sister still has a soft heart. If it were up to me, I’d shoot you. It was at that instant that everything made sense to Gabriela. The woman who had been running the convent these past few days wasn’t Úrsula; it was Luciana, her sister. And Eustaquio probably wasn’t a priest at all. Frightened, she took a step back. A dry creak echoed through the tunnel.

Gabriela looked at the floor. She had stepped on a piece of plastic that now betrayed her presence. Luciana frowned. “Is anyone else here?” The noise came from the tunnel, Eustaquio affirmed, already turning around. The real mother took the moment to scream. “Help, help me. I am the real Mother Superior. Please, help me.” Gabriela froze for a second, her heart pounding, until Luciana came out of the room and saw her. “Ah, it’s you. What a nosy little girl you turned out to be, Gabriela.”

Eustio appeared right behind her with a grim smile. “Ah, little nun, now you’re going straight to the coffin. Who told you to be so curious?” Desperate, Gabriela heard the real Ursula’s anguished voice again. “Run away, Gabriela, run. Close the exit, run. When you get out, get help. Run, for God’s sake.” Gabriela hesitated. Part of her wanted to help immediately, but seeing Eustakio reach for his waist, probably to pull out a gun, her survival instinct spoke louder.

She turned and ran. The tunnel echoed with the sound of her hurried footsteps. Behind her, the shouts and threats of Luciana and Eustaquio pursued her. Reaching the exit, Gabriela hurried and closed the entrance from the outside with trembling hands. From below, Luciana shouted, “Open that, open it now,” Eustaquio bellowed at once. “We’re going to catch you, you won’t escape.” Gabriela forcefully shoved a heavy piece of furniture over the secret exit, blocking it. The crash echoed in the small, quiet chapel of the convent, and she ran outside, her heart racing and her legs shaking.

When she reached her own room, she slammed the door and locked it from the inside. She leaned against the wood, panting, feeling cold sweat running down her neck. “What do I do, my God? What do I do?” she murmured to herself, her breathing uneven. She thought about waking the other nuns, but she knew explaining everything would take time. Time she didn’t have. The man she’d believed to be a priest just a few hours ago was carrying a gun, and the Mother Superior wasn’t the mother.

The real one was tied up, a prisoner. What could she do against two armed impostors? And who would believe such a story? She paced the room, feeling her anguish growing. Her mother, her real mother, I can’t leave her like this. I have to do something. But how? It was then that, as she looked at the table in front of her, something caught her eye. There was her small laptop, which she used to study. Next to it, a connected Pendrive. Nearby, a black ink pen, a gift she had received years ago from her father, and some sleeping pills stashed away for sleepless nights.

An absurd idea began to take shape in her mind, crazy, but possibly effective. Without wasting any time, Gabriela grabbed the pen and ran to the next room where Sister Susana was sleeping. She knocked loudly. Susana, open the door, it’s urgent. Open it, please. On the other side, Sister Susana jumped up. My God, Gabriela, what’s going on? Gabriela didn’t respond immediately; she turned her back to Susana and handed her the pen. I can’t explain it now.

I just need you to do something for me, Sister. And please, believe me. Then he asked her to write on her back. Don’t do the autopsy, please, wait two hours. Susana looked confused. Gabriela, will you explain to me what’s going on? But Gabriela shook her head. I can’t say anything or I’ll put you at risk. What I can say is that you cannot trust Father Eustaquio or the Mother Superior in any way. You cannot trust them.

You can’t. She took a deep breath before continuing. You’re going to do the following. You’re going to go to the telephone room and call the police. Make an anonymous call saying that a crime has occurred here at the convent. Then, you hide, Sister Susana. Don’t let anyone see you. For the love of God. Susana tried to argue. Gabriela, I’m not understanding. I just need you to do what I asked you, Susana. For the love of God, there’s something very serious going on in this convent, but I can only tell you the truth if everything goes well.

Whatever happens, remain silent. And if I don’t return, you should know that you can never trust the mother. At the first opportunity, flee this place, the young nun said firmly. She paused briefly, looking around nervously. “Now I have to return to my room. They’re coming, and I don’t have much time.” Susana, though not understanding, obeyed. She hurried out to the telephone room, her heart racing. She picked up the phone and made the call, speaking quickly about a crime in the convent.

Meanwhile, she heard heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway. In her room, Gabriela put on her habit with trembling hands, took a deep breath, and opened the bottle of sleeping pills. “I hope this works. This is the only way to get out of here and expose these impostors.” She sat down in front of her laptop, connected the pendrive, and started recording with the camera. Her voice was firm. “Don’t trust the Mother Superior.” Before she could say more, she heard a loud knock on the door.

She quickly shut down the computer, removed the pendrive, and slipped it into her habit pocket on a string. From outside, Luciana was shouting, “Open this door now, Gabriela! Open it, or it will be worse!” Eustio intervened, his voice thick with threat. She wasn’t going to open it, but she wasn’t going to escape either. Gabriela heard the metallic sound of something being manipulated in the lock. Eustakio had found an old paper clip and was trying to force the bolt. “She won’t be able to escape, she won’t,” he said resolutely.

The lock clicked. The door opened. What they saw stunned them. Lying on the floor, pills scattered around her, was Gabriela, motionless. Her face was pale and her eyes closed. Luciana brought her hand to her mouth. Could it be that she had taken those pills, and Eustio knelt beside her, placing two fingers on her neck, feeling for a pulse. After a few seconds, she looked up and shook her head.

She’s dead. She immediately let out a low, cruel laugh. It was better that way. Luciana, however, seemed uneasy. I don’t know. This could go wrong if she warned someone. Eustio acted calm. That little nun didn’t warn anyone. Of course not. She ran away in fear. She locked us in the back and, terrified, took the pills. It was over. One less thing for us to worry about. Luciana stared at Gabriela’s motionless body for a few seconds, her gaze filled with distrust, but she didn’t say anything else.

Eustakio, still crouching beside the body, let out a dry, contemptuous laugh. These women here have no family, nothing. We just have to get rid of the body. No one will suspect anything. But just at that moment, an unexpected sound echoed through the convent. Loud banging on the main gate. Luciana jumped up, quickly put on her habit, and ran to the entrance. When she opened it, she found several police officers standing there. The one who appeared to be the head of the operation, a firm-faced delegate, spoke bluntly.

We’ve learned there’s been a crime in this convent. We’ve received a report. We’ll have to go in and investigate. The false mother’s face paled. Her heart raced, but she thought quickly. If she’s dead, I must use her. They have to find Gabriela’s body immediately before they discover what’s really going on here. Without hesitation, she began to cry theatrically, covering her face with her hands. Our Gabriela, our dear Gabriela. I found her dead just now. No, I don’t know, I don’t know what happened, Officer.

I think, I think she took too many pills. Through fake tears, she led the police to the room where the body was. Eustaquio, sensing the risk, had already moved away, hiding in another part of the convent. It was then that the deputy noticed something Luciana hadn’t seen: a piece of paper fallen on the floor near the bed. The message, written in bold letters, read, “An autopsy must be performed to determine what happened to me.” The deputy shuddered, frowning.

Luciana also read it, and her expression immediately betrayed discomfort. She tried to intervene, but he was emphatic. “I don’t want anyone else entering this room, Mother. We need to know what really happened, and even if it’s a nun, we’ll have to take Sister Gabriela’s body for analysis.” With no alternative, the false mother just nodded, biting her lip tightly. Gabriela’s body was carefully removed from the room and placed in the custody of the officers. Immediately, Luciana met Eustaquio, who was waiting for her, hidden, anxious.

As soon as he saw her, he ran toward her. “What’s going on? Why are the police here?” Luciana responded in a low but angry voice. “Someone reported Gabriela’s death. I don’t know if it was her herself before she died, but there’s something strange about this story. Do you want to perform an autopsy?” Before they could continue the conversation, Susana came running up, her eyes brimming with tears. “Mother, Father Eustakio. I’m so glad I found you. Gabriela. Her.” Luciana interrupted, feigning sobs.

Susana is gone, she’s dead. But Susana, in her innocence, ended up saying more than she should have. She knew this was going to happen. I don’t know how, but she did. Luciana raised a suspicious eyebrow. Susana, you have something to do with this story. What did Gabriela tell you? “I only did what she asked me to,” Susana responded nervously. “She said not to trust you, but I don’t know why.” And so Susana, firmly believing the false mother, told everything.

Luciana, for her part, narrowed her eyes, but quickly changed her tone. She forced a smile and placed her hands on the nun’s shoulders. “I understand, my daughter. Thank you for trusting me, but please don’t tell anyone about this. I need to understand what’s going on before I spread the word.” Susana nodded, unaware of the danger she was putting herself in. As soon as she walked away, Luciana turned to Eustio, her mask of sweetness disappearing. “It smells really bad in here.”

We need to go to the morgue now immediately. Shortly after, already in the morgue, Luciana entered the freezing room accompanied by Eustaquio. The two forensic doctors, Fonseca and Camilo, were still there, stunned by everything that was happening. Seeing the empty space, Luciana let out a hateful word. Fonseca, nervous, took a few steps forward. Still believing he was in front of the real mother, he said, “Mother, you shouldn’t be here. Honestly, I already told you you couldn’t enter without authorization.”

“I need you to leave immediately.” Luciana turned sharply. From her habit, she pulled a gun. The sweet expression had completely disappeared. “I’ll only leave when I know where that little nun is. Where’s Gabriela?” The two doctors’ eyes widened. Camilo tried to step back, raising his hands. “Calm down, calm down, there’s no need for this.” At that moment, Eustakio appeared behind them, also armed. “Didn’t you hear? Where’s Sister Gabriela? She’s alive, isn’t she?”

Fonseca stammered, terrified. “What’s going on here? We don’t understand anything.” Luciana pointed the gun at him in a firm, cold voice. “You don’t need to understand. I just want Sister Gabriela, be it her body or her. Where did they hide her?” Eustakio leaned closer, gun in hand, his gaze fixed. The silence in the room was unbearable. Then, a voice echoed through the hallway. “I’m here.” Everyone turned. There stood Gabriela, standing at attention, her eyes fixed on the impostors.

You want me. Just let them both go. They have nothing to do with this. I’m the one you’re looking for. The forensic doctors looked at each other in disbelief. Luciana and Eustaquio, meanwhile, tensed, advancing slowly toward Gabriela. Luciana shouted, “Overcome by rage.” “You damn woman! You ruined everything, but now, now you’re going to pay.” She raised her gun, but before she could fire, voices echoed behind Gabriela. “Put your guns down immediately.

“You’re both under arrest,” the deputy bellowed, appearing with several armed police officers. Luciana and Eustaquio turned around in shock. Behind them, more police emerged, completely surrounding them. The siege was formed. With no way out, they dropped their weapons and surrendered. “No, not again,” the fake mother shouted. As they were handcuffed, a figure entered the room. It was the real mother, Úrsula. She walked slowly toward Luciana, her twin sister, a criminal, and just shook her head silently, disappointed. Then she opened her arms and hugged Gabriela tightly.

Camilo and Fonseca approached, still confused. Fonseca asked hesitantly, “Can we know what happened?” The truth finally came out. The Mother Superior had a twin sister, Luciana. While Ursula dedicated her life to God, Luciana followed the path of crime. She spent years in prison, involved in crimes and in a long-standing relationship with Eusta, who was never a priest, just a criminal accomplice. When he got out of prison, he helped Luciana escape as well.

Together they decided to assume a new identity. And that’s when Luciana devised the most daring plan: to usurp her own sister’s place, disguising herself as the convent’s mother superior, and thus escape the prison walls forever. However, Luciana and Eustaquio’s plan didn’t go as they imagined, as Gabriela ended up discovering the whole truth. Fonseca, still impressed, asked, “But how did you end up on an autopsy table?” Gabriela explained calmly. “I always liked studying medicine, even autopsies. I knew that if they took me away as if I were dead, they would examine my body.”

I needed proof against Mother Ursula. I also took the pills, aware of the risk, but confident that I would appear dead for a few hours and then wake up. That’s why I asked Sister Susana to write the message on my back. I had to leave the convent looking dead to stay alive. While everything was happening in the convent, Luciana and Eustaquio didn’t notice that they had left the secret entrance to the chapel open. It was there that Susana, going to pray, found the real Mother Ursula.

Upon learning what had happened to Gabriela, the mother gathered the police and they went to the morgue, arriving just as Gabriela was waking up, drowsy, on the stretcher, thus setting up the case against the false mother and the false priest. In the end, Luciana and Eustaquio were arrested. Gabriela, the real mother, and Susana returned to the convent, resuming their lives of prayer and faith. Úrsula still tried to visit her sister in prison, trying to convince her to change her life, but she soon realized that Luciana would never leave the path to perdition.

Camilo and Fonseca, for their part, continued working at the morgue, but they knew with absolute certainty that they would never witness anything so strange and absurd again in their entire careers.