This is A Low

Chapter One: Act Naturally

By: StalkerDex

Baby, baby, babe...what can I do? I'm so in love with you...

-Graham Coxon, See Another Day

Frail, so frail. Cold. He had just showered, and his blue hair hung loose and matted around his pale, sickly face. His eyes (well, what was left of them anyway) were solemn, staring at the razor in his hands. He wasn't sure why he did it...maybe he was hoping someone would notice him? A physical example of the never ending waves of depression he felt crashing down upon him...but no one ever did. No one cared. Everyone he cared about was gone or otherwise preoccupied. Noodle, bless her sole, all he had of her now was a fucking robot...really, a FUCKING robot. And, Russel...well, who ever knew what the fuck he was doing, but he was gone. Hadn't seen him in a while. Kong Studios, wasted away...gone...just another fucking thing in his life that was gone. The only person who was still physically in his life was Murdoc (who of course had always been the most important person in his life, being that he had, well, saved his life) but it really didn't matter anyway because he was always to preoccupied with his blogs, his women and that crazy ass man who was constantly trying to shoot him.

He cringed and allowed a tear to fall from his vacant eyes. Over his nose, salty into his mouth. Just added to the sour taste he couldn't seem to rid himself of. Bitter...bitter and sour...just like him.

"Fuck..." he sobbed, tears now flowing freely, landing wherever they pleased.

He continued to cry, shaking and muttering as he lowered the razor blade to his arms and cut. He never cut deep, he wasn't suicidal...not yet anyway...so he always made sure to avoid any areas that could actually steal his life away from him. Shallow, slightly painful cuts to distract him from the much more immense pain he felt in his heart...in his head.


Murdoc sad at the computer, typing away at his blog, discussing his political views and general distaste for the world around him. He'd been rather perky since Russel had left, no longer did he have to worry about having his face pounded in if he were to be an asshole to anyone...although the only person left he could be an asshole to was 2D. However, he had noticed that his lead singer had been just walking around like, well, for lack of a better word, a fucking zombie! He was aware that something was wrong, and while he didn't really care for 2D's health and mental stability, he really was aware that he needed him around if he was going to keep the Gorillaz alive, he needed his lead singer to be alive. Fuck, really, the band was pretty much only him and D anymore. Thank God they were able to get a robot of Noodle so as to still have a guitarist...although he really did miss worrying about Noodle's safety and security. She was the only person in his life he did have a little soft spot for. The robot just wasn't the same. It had no emotions or playfulness. Nothing like the real Noodle.

"Ugh, damnit...really? Am I doing this?" He muttered, leaning his head back and looking to the roof.

He stood up and, very reluctantly, headed towards 2D's room. He hadn't seen him for a while, no noise coming out of his room either. He knew that he'd been cutting himself, and he was fairly certain that he was about to witness one of his slashing sessions, but he had to catch him if he was going to convince the singer to stop. He'd never brought it up of course, because at first he though the little twat was doing it for attention, which irritated the fuck out of Murdoc, of course. D should know that he didn't deserve the time of day from Murdoc for being such a fucking pansy ass bitch. However, like he had said before, he needs a goddamn singer, and if this shit kept going on, he knew he probably wouldn't have one.

Breathe in. Hold it. Grab the doorknob. Breath out. Relax, turn the knob and open the door.

It happened pretty fast, yet, at the same time, slow enough for every detail to make their way into his brain, burning themselves in there. Yep, they would be there forever. For-fucking-ever.

D was sitting on the bed, a towel wrapped around his waste, blood all over his arms, tears staining his face, a sleight pinkish hue around his cheeks. His razor was in hand, also soaked with blood. He was shaking, and seemed completely oblivious of the fact that Muds had entered the room. He took the razor and again, slashed his arm...a rather deep cut. He wasn't sure if D was cutting so deep intentionally, or if he had to to feel the pain. He was probably rather used to it.

Murdoc walked over in front of the singer, somewhat in auto pilot. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he still knew what he had to do.

"D..." he muttered, disgusted. He crouched down on his feet, put his hand on D's clean arm and slowly removed the razor from the pretty singer's scarred hand. He didn't even move, just stared at Murdoc's face. It was unsettling how much hurt he could see in those little black holes of his. He swallowed hard, feeling extremely uncomfortable.

"Wot the fuck're ya doin'?" He asked, although very careful not to put TOO much venom into his words.

Blank stare. More of the fucking blank staring. Just as Murdoc was about to ask again with a little more force, 2D opened up his mouth a bit and breathed.

"I...I hurt...my heart hurts...my head hurts...I dunno wot else to do?" He whispered.

Murdoc just stared at him. Waiting for more of an explanation.

"Wot d'ya mean?" He questioned, pushing him to tell him more.

"I mean that, when I try and do somefin', like walk out of my room, my body feels too heavy. When I fink about eating it makes my stomach hurt, and I can't do it. When I try to write a song it all sounds the same, so I stop and I hate myself for not being able to keep up with wot I want. Everyfing feels wrong..." he sniffled and sobbed a bit... "I hate myself, I hate my life, I can't sleep, I can't dream, I can't focus...I just want to lay here and fucking cry...but I can't even FUCKING do that!" He cried. Shaking and squeezing hands together, digging his nails into his palms. More blood.

Murdoc grabbed his hands, a bit shocked at what he'd just heard. He hadn't realized...

"Hey, er...listen...it's gonna be ok. Jus'...stop this. Ye need to knock this shit off," he said as he held up the razor, then tucked it away.

"I'm gonna git ye help, D. I promise ye, ok?"

D looked up at him, eyes wide, tears stopped, a bewildered look on his face.

"Um...ok...? Ok."

Ok. Breathe in. Breath Out. Relax.