As he walked through the house he carried the whiskey bottle and filled his backpack with important things; a few clothes, guns, guitar, and the hospital med kit, just in case. The house was filled with good memories and terrible memories. Leaving the bedroom upstairs he passed by Jayce and what would've been the new baby's room, stopping to take a long swig of whiskey. Both ultrasound photos sat framed on the dresser, calling to him. Picking it up he ran his fingers over the images, "I'm sorry..." He whispered before shoving the frame into his pocket and heading down stairs again. At the bottom of the stairs waited his Wendy-bird and a container of gasoline. "I'm done here. Time to burn the ship, Wendy." Neither of them spoke as she dumped the gasoline around the room, coating the furniture, the floors and walls as best she could until most of the first floor was drenched perfectly. She walked towards the front door and stepped onto the porch. "You wanna do the honors? No going back once you set it though." She reminded him, a small piece of her worried for his future. He gave his home one more look over. The home that he was suppose to start his future in. Instead it had seen more of his blood than any happy memory. He hated it here. He hated his girlfriend, but was too afraid to leave. Another swig of the liquid courage and strike of the whole match book, he tossed it next to a gasoline soaked picture of him and Gemini. "Second star to the right, straight on 'til morning." He stated to Dakota, closing the front door behind him as flames quickly spread.

Two forty-five in the morning he woke to the sound of his name being screamed. Sleepy eyes panicking around the room, searching for the voice; for a clue as to where it came from. The glow of the light in the bathroom attached to their room, followed by his name being screamed again. "Babe, what's wrong?" He ran into the bathroom immediately noting the blood. "Oh, god..." They'd been here before. His stomach tightened, head spinning. He couldn't believe it was happening, again. One of his worst nightmares coming true. "Gem.. Baby I- I'm sorry..." It didn't matter what he had to say; nothing was going to make this right. Instead, he turned on the shower helping her inside. Both of them sitting under the warm running water, clothes still on. His arms wrapped around her waist rocking her as they cried together. Life wasn't supposed to be this cruel, not when things had been going to so perfectly. He was clean, their relationship was right, the guitar shop was getting up and running.    It was two days before they really got out of bed other than for basic necessities or to take care of the dogs. Consumed by the loss and sorrow for the baby. He'd slowly noticed a change in her demeanor toward him, beginning to talk to him less, getting short with him when she did speak. The haunting feeling she was reverting back to her dark shelf creeping in. It wasn't until the third day after the loss he'd seen the fire in her eyes again. They were sitting at the kitchen table for dinner, when she let her fork drop with a clatter. Eyes peering, nervously, "Gem, you okay?" He whispered.                 "This is your fault. I've lost another baby with you... it's always with you... it's all your fucking fault." Her voice had been deep as she looked into his eyes speaking words that tore his heart open. "T-th-that's not t-tr-true. It's not p-po-possible." He stammered, fear rising.                 "Are you fucking stupid?" Hand still holding steak knife rose, then swing to plung it deep into his hand. He screamed, crying out in pain. "Stop! It's not my fault! Don't do this again." He begged, unable to move his hand now stuck to the table.                 A wicked laugh crossed her lips, terror returning to him. This time shaking his core deeper. "Again? No baby. I'm just getting started." Her fist draws back, colliding to break his nose before she walks out of the room.

Avery sisters.