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Morty wouldn't say he's particularly sad or depressed. Not like Rick. Still, he couldn't explain this emptiness and the tingling. What's wrong with him? It is yeah, this is his normal. Feeling too much sometimes, shutting down at times just to function. He has to function, for Mom, for Dad and Rick. Especially Rick. Especially since today's incident.
He's fine… he's fine… he's fine…
"Grandpa needs you."
At least Rick still needs him…
But he never manages to be enough. Everyone wants something from him…
*stop being so dramatic, at least you're useful. That's all you ever wanted, you piece of shit!*
But Morty stares, eyes wide open, at the ceiling. His thoughts race at light speed. The boy tossed and turned in bed, hoping somehow… somewhere to find sleep. The day kept running through his head like a never-ending loop of thoughts, and all he wanted was to sleep.
"Head… please, please shut up…" but his pleading did nothing. Morty knows it. It never did anything. These were those nights again, where sleep seemed light-years away and his worst thoughts, traumas and the day's events just kept running on repeat, simply because his brain had decided to build a torture chamber inside his head.
All he could do was wonder… ask himself, what his life would be like…
His life without… that annoying voice… without…Maybe…
"I wish Rick had never moved in." The thought shot through his head so hot and bitter that he involuntarily jumped out of bed – fell. Where did that come from? Morty looked toward the bedroom door. His heart was pounding in his throat. What's wrong with him? How could he dare think something like that? Morty just shook his head.
*Stop it, don't think… don't think about that.*
"Mom needs him… sure, he's an asshole… but it's not that bad… I'm useful… and that's… okay… adventures aren't so bad anymore either…"
The exhaustion, sleepless nights and overthinking seemed to have a language of their own. All of a sudden Morty threw his blanket to the side.
*Screw it! Who cares!*
It's already almost the middle of the night anyway. Sleep is a luxury he doesn't have right now, so who gives a damn? Either Rick wakes him up for some absurd reason or his head decides to be its own torture chamber.
Maybe just grab some energy and start the day. That sounds somehow right.
---
**A few days passed**
"It's a disease! A genetic disease!, It's already in you”,
Rick's words pierced his head like thunder through the wind.
Rick was drunk again.
More drunk than usual.
And Morty? He had to clean up his mess again, like always.
Like a good, obedient boy. Oh, how wonderful. Morty scoffed. As if.
Then came Reese. His one and only trusted friend…
Or so he thought, until he found out he was just a stupid robot Rick made.
A FUCKING ROBOT! The mere thought of it made the boy bury his face into his pillow as another scream rose up inside him.
*It's not fair… it's not fair…*
Rick ruins everything. He ruins everything. Of course he does. What else can he do? Besides being an asshole?
"It's a disease! A genetic disease!, its already in you…”,
*Shut up!*
Morty would have loved to throw something against a wall. Anything…Rick's stuff?
Maybe he should tape Rick's photo to the punching bag… that sounds pretty good actually, even too good. He should do that.
*No! Oh God, no, you brain-dead moron! You're not doing that, you psychotic piece of shit! Have you lost your mind? If Rick sees that–*
Ah, that self-critical voice. How nice.
His voice and that godforsaken voice his grandfather had planted inside him, ran through him like a broken record, like a busted radio on loop.
"Argh! Shut your mouth!"
Can he ever have peace… No, of course not… Peace is apparently too expensive for this house and this family… Hah. Who would've thought? Certainly not him. Hah – that's funny. Maybe he should –
The brunette barely felt the pain as he, before he even knew- register it, what he was doing, slammed his head against the wooden part of his bed.
Again and again and AGAIN.
*It has to stop, it has to stop.* Does he even have any control… even his brain, his thoughts were firing against him and Morty was suffocating inside…long and quietly
Does anyone even care about him… is there anyone who sees him… who gives a damn about him…probably not.
Why should they? He is just a Morty…just a Morty.
His parents… No… no…
Maybe it's true. Maybe he'll end up just like… Rick… like Mom…
A bitter old drunk who can't do anything except look down on others… that's how he'll end up…
"It's a disease! A genetic disease!, it's already in you”,
Bitter tears welled up, dropping down.
*gez he is crying now, like a baby? How pathetic*
not even in sleep could he find peace… not from Rick… as if he were a parasite that had burrowed into his brain… his soul.
A soul-devouring parasite…
"I hate living here."
That's what he'd said earlier, exactly those words.
"I hate living here."
"I hate living here."
"I hate living here."
He threw his blanket to the side, his eyes snapping open like a lightning strike, his vision narrowing into a tunnel as he locked onto one single goal. A burning fire raged inside him like molten lava. It burned, oh how it burned…that's what it is like.
“Evil boy, wicked boy…”,
Without warning the 14-year-old jumped out of bed. Grabbed his red and black backpack… took everything that seemed important enough. With trembling hands as he stuffed everything inside. His hands shook visibly as he tore through his wardrobe and shelves. Throw clothes, books, comics- everything at one pile.
*Zip.*
He couldn't care less – clothes… comics? Didn't matter, everything in! Family photo…?
"I hate living here."
Would his family ever notice if he wasn't there anymore…?
Where would he even go…?
To cps…to childrens home? No…
Would Rick even look for him…? Does he even want to?
A piercing scream tore from his throat. He desperately tried to suppress it. Tears and snot mixed together on his face. Morty pulled his knees to his chest. His wet face buried itself between his knees. Why does he have to be born? Why he?
He couldn't… no, couldn't… he's trapped… trapped like an animal…
Why did he have to be born into this godforsaken family…?
Why didn't they abort him…?
Valuable enough to be the family's emotional trash can. Apparently.
*Blood is thicker than water.*
Ha. Funny.
Who needs enemies if…
"Ah, shut up, just shut the hell up already!"
Maybe he needs an energy drink, hehehe... the first step toward alcoholism. Who knows… after all-
the apple doesn't fall far from the tree…