Morty had always made a point of not relying on Rick for anything trivial - he knew it would only bring about an intolerable amount of ridicule and harassment. Truth be told, the idea of asking his grandfather for help was more intimidating than most of the crazy life-threatening situations that the two of them wound up in on a regular basis. This situation however, was different; Morty was more terrified now than ever before.
I really fucked up this time.
He clenched his cellphone weakly in his hand causing pain to shoot from his fingertips up the entire length of his arm. Blood was smeared across the screen where he had typed out his last message to Rick:
Help me.
He couldn't bring himself to say any more, and even if he could, his fingers had grown stiff and numb. He could barely feel the blood trickling from his wrists to the cold white-tiled floor of the bathroom.
Five minutes ago, this had seemed like the perfect idea. Morty was failing half of his classes at school due to lack of attendance, and when he did show up the bullying he received from Brad and the other students made his life a living hell. At home, his parents constantly fought and his mother was always drunk. Morty was certain that he didn't want to live anymore, but now he wasn't so sure.
He hadn't counted on his death being so slow. Sitting here now in his own blood, he had time to think over his decisions, and perhaps even change his mind.
The long and deep cut along his left arm had removed all sensation in his fingers, and cutting his right wrist afterwards had been much more difficult. As a result, his right hand could still function, even if painfully and lethargically.
Morty's energy slowly drained as the blood dripped from his cuts onto the floor, and with it his instinct to panic was also numbed. He didn't have the energy to get worked up anymore, so instead he was left with overwhelming terror and dread. He thought about happy memories with his family, and told himself to forgive them for everything they had done that hurt him.
His mind filled with images of his adventures together with Rick... how long ago had he sent that text? Would Rick even come? Morty knew there were other Morty's out there, why would Rick get himself worked up over this one?
Suddenly, the horrifying idea of his family stumbling into the bathroom and finding him like this hit him, and Morty's gut twisted. In his helpless state, overcome with guilt, all he could do was cry. All the pain from every memory Morty had flooded over him. He didn't no anymore if he wanted to die or not. He despised himself for what he was doing to his family. The tears and loss of blood together caused his vision to blur, and Morty knew he was dying.
This is it. This is how I die. Rick isn't coming. Nobody is coming. I'm going to die alone here, on the bathroom floor, and there's no one to blame but myself.
He leaned his head back against the wall with his last energy and closed his eyes. He didn't hear when the portal opened up in front of him, but he felt himself pulled into the warmest hug he could imagine - he hadn't realized until now just how cold he had become.
"It's okay M-morty. It'll be okay."
