Athena is my twin, my best friend, and my roommate. We'd always been super close, but lately she's been acting strange and I don’t know what to do about it.

It all started with a TV show. Do you remember ‘The Dr. Greg Show’? It’s been off the air for a while now, but it was basically just another generic daytime television talk show.

I know the real reason that it was cancelled; I was there for the very last taping.

I had been thoroughly unenthused when I heard that a supposed medium would be one of the guests that day. I wasn’t looking forward to the usual tricks of a cold reading, but Athena begged me to go with her. She still had hope.

It’s not that I didn’t want to believe, it’s just… Well, maybe you’ve been there too – when you lose a loved one you think, surely, surely this can’t be the end. There’s no way I will go the rest of my life without seeing their smile or hearing their voice again. You seek out any avenue, no matter how hopeless to try and fill that hole they've left in your life, get just a few more precious moments with them.

We'd tried psychics before, in the months since mom passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. I always left with a heart heavier with cynicism and grief, and of course, a lighter wallet. I’d finally accepted she was gone. Athena, on the other hand, never gave up.

So there we were, sitting in a studio audience as Dr. Greg welcomed his first guest, whom be introduced as ‘Mystic Cynthia’ onto the stage. I accidently let out a small laugh at the name and her appearance alone – earning me a glare from Athena. Her outfit seemed fairly on par what you’d likely see if you googled ‘TV psychic’. I felt a chill though, when for a fleeting moment, I saw that she had a look of immense distress on her face.

“Now Cynthia, tell them what you told me a moment ago”, our host smiled.

She looked around, and quietly asserted that terrible things had happened here long ago. She looked genuinely concerned, but the audience simply applauded.

She said that maybe they shouldn’t do this, not now, not here, but Dr. Greg encouraged her to continue with the segment.

She closed her eyes for a long moment, muttered some words, before they flashed open and she scanned the room.

“Are there two siblings in the audience today that lost their mother this year?”

The audience looked around, but I was being stubborn and didn’t raise my hand – Athena looked at me questioningly, waiting for me to act.

The crowd murmured.

“She would’ve passed in an accident?”

Lucky guess, I thought darkly.

“Artemis?”, she called out, her voice softer and more melodic than before, “Athena?”

“Mom?” I found myself jumping to my feet involuntarily.

The psychic and I locked eyes, she stood too and an exact copy of mom’s smile filled her face. Athena was crying, Dr. Greg was clapping, the lady next to us wiped tears from her eyes.

I stood, speechless, as she told us she missed us, that we looked so beautiful.

My sister and I stared at her – both of us at a loss for words. After almost a year of trying, we were so surprised that we were actually unsure of what to say other than how much we missed her. Luckily, mom broke the silence.

“Do you remember,” She called out , “When you were younger and we used to go fishing with your dad? He eventually stopped inviting the three of us because we were too loud, we scared all the fish away?”

I laughed softly, remembering vividly how mom would always make us laugh, especially when we weren't supposed to.

We started walking towards Cynthia, those in my row made room for us to get by, Athena was nearly sprinting to the stage.

“Remember when you made us all those matching M&M Halloween costumes?”, Athena asked, through tears.

Cynthia laughed, “I always made all of your costumes, but that year you—” she turned her head, looked over her shoulder.

“What are you?” she whispered in mom’s voice, notes of fear creeping into it

I froze for a moment, confused.

“No! I won’t let you!” Cynthia’s voice was her own again. She stared blankly for a moment, and then she gave a slight shudder – for a moment her eyes nearly closed and were just slivers of white as they rolled back into her head.

The other members of the audience applauded.

The expression on her face changed, the smile was no longer one of happiness but one of an animalistic hunger. She looked around, as if deeply fascinated by the lights, cameras, and people.

Something felt wrong to me, but neither my sister nor those around us seemed to sense the subtle shift in the air yet.

“I remember pulling the bones from still living flesh, the sweet scent of blood and fear mingling in the autumn air.”

I froze mid-step, at the words, at the change in cadence and the harshness in her voice – all of it was so wrong. Athena was only a few rows from the stage now and turned back to me, confused.

“Mom?”, She ventured.

Cynthia’s head shook, ever so slightly. She swayed and clawed at her face, she seemed to be fighting a losing battle for control over her own limbs.

“I remember the hunger – so strong that only iron chains and ten feet of soil could hold it back. I’ve been here where they left me. Waiting.”

Dr. Greg was anxiously trying to usher Cynthia off the stage.

“Nrgh!”Cynthia muttered, as thin and shadowy fingertips emerged from her mouth and gripped at her top lip and teeth. It became so silent for a moment that the only thing I could hear was the buzz of the studio lights above us.

We all watched in uniform terror as another set of those fingers emerged. Cynthia’s eyes widened in fear, as the phantom digits began prying her top and bottom jaw apart, wider, wider. A sickening crack echoed through the studio.

We looked on in horror. The rest was a blur, I don’t remember if that’s when the audience started screaming and running – or if it was when a thin and dark form began to step out the ruins of her face as if simply shedding an old set of clothes.

Say what you will about him as a TV host, but to Dr. Greg’s credit, he tried to direct the audience to the safety of the emergency exit and instead of running himself, tackled the figure. Our eyes met for a moment while they grappled – I stood frozen, jostled by those around me that were jumping over chairs, trying to reach the aisles. He fell into the remaining audience that had gathered at the foot of the stage, headed towards the exit. The wet, sick tearing and greedy sounds of eating that followed, jolted me back to reality.

I ran towards the crowd, frantically searching for my sister, panicking when I saw her hunched over on the ground near what was left of our poor host. She was scraped up and still warm blood had spattered her clothes, but she seemed okay. At the time I thought she’d been knocked over in the collective flight of those around us, and was too dazed or terrified to get back up. I helped her up and led her by her hand as we fell in with the fleeing crowd. I looked back over my shoulder, and except for what was left of poor Cynthia and Dr. Greg, the studio was empty.

Athena’s been quiet and distant ever since. When she looks at me now, her gaze makes me nervous, and she leaves the apartment sometimes for days on end. I understand that she was probably traumatized by everything that she saw, especially being in such proximity close to it when it happened, but it’s been months now and she hasn’t got any better.

I heard on the news that Dr. Greg ‘retired’ which was supposedly why they finished the season off with reruns; I haven’t seen or heard anything about what actually happened that day.

What’s got me really worried, though, is that I have heard about the mangled and partially eaten bodies that’ve been turning up throughout the boroughs.

Well, that, coupled with the muffled moans and the unmistakable sound of the tearing of flesh and splintering bone coming from my sister’s room at night.