Hansen

A pair of sister missionaries from the Church of the New Beginnings of God stood in front of a house. They'd been visiting this man for months. They knocked on his door. Inside, they saw a shadow move... but no answer came.

Frustrated, Sister Hamilton sighed and stepped back, already walking away. But Sister Hansen remained, staring at the door, still waiting. Nothing. No answer.

Flashback ~

For two months, he welcomed them. He liked talking about faith. About God. He listened—too closely when she spoke. He looked forward to it. Felt something he wasn’t supposed to. Deluded by his own feelings.
If it continued, someone would get hurt. Maybe him. Maybe her. One mistake and she’d be expelled. So he stopped opening the door. Her knocks lingered. Her voice stayed soft.

Hamilton returned and told her to let it go. Hansen didn't respond. She just stood there, visibly disappointed-and underneath it, angry.

The day continued. They completed all their scheduled visits and meetings, but Hamilton couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Hansen wasn't acting like herself. She was distant, quiet. Something about her energy felt... wrong.

As they walked home, Hamilton finally stopped her. She placed her hands gently on Hansen's shoulders and looked her in the eyes.

"What's on your mind?" she asked. "You've been off all day. Talk to me."

Hansen looked down, her eyes welling up with tears. Her voice broke as she whispered, "I just feel like I'm failing. I'm not good at this. I suck at my job. I'm not a good missionary... maybe I should just quit."

Hamilton's heart sank. She pulled Hansen into a long, tight hug.

---

3:40 a.m.

A figure stirred in the dark. It was Sister Hansen.

She moved quietly, putting on her dress and shoes without making a sound. From under the bed, she pulled a small blanket and a cloth. She soaked the cloth with chloroform and crept toward Sister Hamilton's bed. Gently, she pressed the cloth against her face.

Hamilton didn't stir.

Then she went to the other room, where the woman they lived with slept. She did the same. No reaction.

She took the woman's car keys and slipped out into the night.

---

3:56 a.m.

She stood in front of his house-the same man who refused to open the door.

She knocked. There was movement inside.

The man opened the door, shocked to see her standing there in her missionary clothes, calm and still. Without saying a word, she stepped forward, grabbed his torso gently, and pushed him onto the couch.

He was too stunned to speak. But slowly, his confusion turned into something else. He touched her waist, trying to understand her intentions. She laid herself over him, letting his hands explore her hair, her neck...

And just as his fingers trailed down her back, she reached behind herself-pulling a knife from a hidden pouch sewn into the back of her dress.

Without hesitation, she plunged it into his neck.

Again.

And again.

Until he was dead.

---

4:26 a.m.

She stood alone in the darkness, somewhere deep in the woods, digging. The man's body was wrapped in a green blanket-the one she took from his home. She buried him, covered the site, erased the trace.

By the time she got back home, it was nearly 5:00 a.m.

Almost time for her daily mission.

She undressed, threw her clothes in the laundry, and went into the bathroom. The water ran.

Only her feet were visible beneath the steam.

---

Three days passed.
Now it was Sunday.

The man's disappearance had become news in the community. It was even a topic at church. Sister Hansen looked... uneasy. Her movements were stiff. Her eyes darted.

A woman from the ward gently tapped her on the shoulder-and Hansen jumped, startled, like she'd been shocked.

From across the room, Sister Hamilton noticed.

She narrowed her eyes. Watched her.

Suspected.

That same week, Hansen killed again. A second victim.

And Sister Hamilton was getting too close.

---

One night, while Hamilton slept, Sister Hansen stood over her bed. She was calm. Cold. Wearing gloves.

She opened the bedroom window to create the illusion of an intruder.

Then, with the same knife she had used on the others, she stabbed Hamilton repeatedly in the chest and stomach.

After three hours of waiting, she began to scream.

Ms. Conrad, the woman they lived with, came rushing into the room. She found Hansen curled in the corner, crying and screaming uncontrollably. Blood covered the bed. Hamilton's body lay motionless, butchered.

The police arrived.

But found nothing.

No leads.

---

Hamilton's body was sent back to her family in Brookhaven.

As for Hansen... she was never found, she always knew yet never told what truly happened throughout her missionary days...
Always keeping a gentle yet soft smile that covers her evil side unseen