Amarillo

Isolation

It smelled like salt water and rotting trash. Paint fumes still lingered, even though the paint had long since been dried. Alcohol peppered the air due to the copious amounts being drunk. Seagulls screeched and waves crashed against each other. Occasionally a whale would breech the sea and spout some water. It could've been picturesque. It really could've. But there was so much bad blood and anger here. And so much sadness.

Music played constantly here. Someone was always either being forced through a recording session, or practicing to try to end the torture faster. It didn't have to be so bad. There was plenty of food and the building was almost like a beach resort. Maybe it was the fact that the mansion rested on discarded trash, or maybe it was the man in the heart of this floating trash heap.

Murdoc would lock himself away when he wasn't recording or running interviews. He'd also taken up a radio station and that kept him busy. However, no matter how many projects he took on, he still had too much time to himself. He tried to fill the endless expanse of time with booze, but guilt and shame and grief was always suffocating him.

He was at his lowest point. He was self destructing and taking down everyone around him. There was nobody to save him. Especially, not after all the horrible things he'd done. Too many musicians kidnapped. Too many mistakes. Too much regret. The most painful loss he had ever felt. The one guy who'd always been like a friend now hated him. The closest thing to a daughter was dead. And everything was his fault.

Today was a rare day where Murdoc wasn't trying to drown himself in the bottle. He shuffled through the Plastic Beach mansion aimlessly. He tried ignoring his collaborators winces and flinches as he passed by. He might've earned it, but he didn't like it. But some things can't be forgiven.

He grunted as he pushed the door open, letting the light flood in. His hangover made the light hurt and he cursed himself for having drank so much. He made his way down to the beach slowly. Murdoc stumbled occasionally. As he neared the coastline, he noticed a blue haired man sitting and skipping random bits of debris. Murdoc almost turned back, but when 2D turned his head to see who was behind him, he knew there was no going back, so he took a place next to the singer. 2D gave him a scowl, but Murdoc stared at the ocean instead.

"When I was a kid, I wanted to be a sailor. I was gonna sail all over the world," And away from my father, he thought.

"And I wanted normal eyes," 2D spat out.

Murdoc closed his eyes. He didn't have it in him to fight anyone, let alone one of the last two people he actually cared about on this planet. "You hate me, don't you 'D?"

The man frowned. He opened his mouth. He closed it again. Finally he responded, "I dunno, Mudz. I really don't know."

"Dentz, do you think... Do you think you could be happy here with me?" Murdoc turned his head and stared hopefully into 2D's eyes. He wanted to a yes. He needed a yes. But something kept telling him that 2D would never be happy around him. He'd made one too many mistakes. He'd given his friend nothing but trouble.

2D shook his head. "Maybe if you didn't kidnap me. Maybe if we put this album together on my terms. Maybe if there wasn't a bloody whale to keep me hostage. But like this? Murdoc, do you really think I even want to look at you?"

Murdoc's head spun and his heart dropped, but 2D wasn't done. "I get you're upset about Noodle. I didn't think any of us would ever stop crying. But this isn't how you cope. You can't bring back the dead, and you certainly can't make an animatronic of them! You could've asked for help, Murdoc. You may be a shitty person, but me and Russ would've still helped you. This isn't healthy, Mudz." His voice softened and he lowered his eyes. Murdoc's were filling with tears, and 2D knew he'd crumble if he saw that.

"'D, I need you," Murdoc begged.

"And I need you to let me go," 2D rose from his spot and sauntered away, leaving Murdoc by himself.

The older man sat by the seaside, and began to sob. His baby girl was dead, he'd lost a friend, he'd left behind another. He was alone and he could feel the air closing in on him. He'd trapped himself on an island where everyone hated him. He needed a body guard, not for the Boogieman after him, but because he knew these people wouldn't let an opportunity for freedom to pass them by. Even if that meant death for him. So he cried. There was nothing else for him to do. They don't make apology cards nice enough or grow big enough flowers to show this kind of sorry.

But some things can't be forgiven.