"No! Please no! Don't leave me alone!" He fell to his knees in tears, his left leg falling into a puddle. This was the third time. This was the third time he's lost a roommate in the past week.

Edd was the first. The group of them were on their way home when out of the blue a speeding car came from in front of them. He remembers being pushed out of the way, remembers the blood on the pavement. Watching the paramedics come only to confirm the time of death. The three of them were driven home by a police officer. That would be the last time he would set foot into a car.

It was only a few days later that they had found Matt. The ginger had apparently fallen into the lake behind the house and didn't realize until he had already become submerged the first time and his lungs had filled with water. The two of them had pulled his body from the water, trying to force the water out of his lungs before giving up once the paramedics had arrived once again. He swore that he wouldn't feel safe in the water ever again.

That was only yesterday. They hadn't even had the chance to mourn Matt before what happened. He thought he would be glad to see the corpse in front of him, and anytime before this week he probably would've. But not with what happened. He was kneeling beside the charred remains of his roommate, the body of a normally drunk brit in blue oddly still.

The day had started out normally, well as normal as it could have been with two of your best friends dying days apart. Him and Tom were trying to keep their spirits up, it was only ten in the morning. Tom had sworn off drinking the day Edd was hit by that car, so the unusual sober conversation was interesting. That was until Tom had moved to fix the fallen logs in the fireplace with the poker. He had misjudged the height of the flames and his hoodie sleeves caught fire, the old stains from excessive drinking burning up quickly and singeing the hair covered arm underneath. There was a lull in processing from both parties before Tom fell back in shock, his legs catching fire almost instantly. He jolted from where he was sitting on the couch, ready to both bolt from the house and call the fire brigade and run towards the danger to pull Tom away. He was shocked still when he heard Tom yell at him, the empty sockets boring into his soul.

"Get out of here Tord! Now! Go call the fire brigade and get away from the house. I'm sorry." The last two words were almost unheard as he ran from the room and grabbed the land-line. He wouldn't lose another friend. Dialing for the emergency operator, he explained the situation before hanging up and running back to Tom. The scene he came back to was something that would haunt him for the rest of his days.

He could see Tom, clothes half burned off, any metal on the clothes hitting the skin underneath and creating fourth and fifth degree burns, something that he wouldn't likely recover from easily. He wished they hadn't messed with the fire extinguisher and broken it. Hearing the sirens, he could barely see or breathe through the thick smoke. Feeling himself being picked up and carried from the room, he heard the sounds of hoses spraying water. Pushing himself out of the strong grip of the fireman, he felt the tears falling before he even reached the fireplace. It looked like the crematorium technician only needed to do half his job now. His knee was soaked in the water that was used to put the flames out.

He was bad luck incarnate wasn't he? His three best friends died within the week, two of them in order to save him. He didn't deserve to live. Going up to his room as the body was taken away, he fell back onto the soft mattress and looked to the ceiling. It would be easy to take one of his guns and off himself, in fact he wanted to do just that. But he could hear the disappointed voices of his now dead friends inside his head. Feeling his eyes close, he fell into a fitful slumber.

It was admittedly hard to live life like he had before, even as a few weeks passed. He cleaned up the house as well as he could. He refused to completely clean up the now empty bedrooms, deciding to instead empty and clean any bottles and cans that still held substance before placing them back where they were left whether they were left on the floor or desk. The fireplace was closed off at the very top, a space heater being placed inside it to make use of the spot. Three urns sat on the mantle, a picture of each of the deceased hanging above the blogging urn. He was curled up on the couch with Ringo curled up against his stomach watching the news on the television before something the news anchor said hit home.

"And now for some saddening news at your eleven o'clock hour. A few weeks ago three London natives died within a few days of each other. All three were staying in the same house. They are survived by their separate families as well as a cat named Ringo and a friend of theirs who still lives in the house they shared." Moving to grab the remote to turn off the telly, he startled Ringo and fell off the couch face first. How nice. Turning off the television, he got off the floor before moving to go into the kitchen to get a drink of water before heading to bed. It was late at night.

Pausing in the entry hall, he saw a strange sort of bright light from the glass in the front door, diverting his destination for the moment. The front light was off and the closest street light was on the other side of either neighbor, so he couldn't think of anything that would be causing such a light. Opening the front door, he couldn't see anything or anyone on the road. Taking a step out of the front door, there was a soft hiss from behind himself which made him turn around. Only barely registering that the mysterious light was coming from above himself he realized quickly that something was wrong as he couldn't move back into the house, glancing up to see what made the light appear. Feeling his bare feet being lifted from the ground, he sighed softly knowing that there was a slim chance he would return to the house alive and unscathed.

His last thoughts as he was pulled into the alien transportation device and knocked out were that he hoped Ringo could figure out how to care for herself in the hopeful case he was going to have his organs harvested and his skin used to make covering for whatever this species' needed him for. His brain then went blank as he fell out of consciousness.