Morty sped down the roadways in the middle of the night, furiously and quickly wiping at the tears that fell as he kept his foot pressed hard to the pedal. He moved along the highway, practically driving solely in the middle of the roadway, moving around everybody in his way. He laughed sardonically. That son of a bitch knew what he was doing, driving back and forth over the roadway like Morty remembered. But now it was the brunet doing that, Morty heading down the highway, barely avoiding accidents and other pissed off drivers.
       The brunet owned the streets currently, watching chicken-shit drivers move out of his way as he approached. He traveled down back streets now, making his way back around and looping back to the highway. The streets were filled with cars parked along the side, people moving out of the way to make room for Morty who simply didn't have it in himself to care anymore. He looped around the block and made his way back out onto the highway, returning once more to his point of origin. He weaved through those continuing on their way, tuning out the sounds of angry drivers as he swiftly flipped the radio on. 
       When Morty drove down a particular stretch of road, having just exited the bridge, he saw an all-too-familiar car making its way down his street and laughed almost maniacally. Of course he would be searching for Morty. The bastard had to make sure his toy wasn't skipping town. But he wasn't going to anytime soon, no sir. He'd stay. But he was going to make it very clear he wanted nothing more to do with the man anymore. Things were going to change, and Morty would be certain of that. There was no more being passive. He was going to take control of his own damn life, make decisions for himself like he used to before the fucker entered his life and took control. It was Morty now. Just Morty. He was in control, and he wasn't going to give it back up ever again.
       The brunet continued down the highway until he came to the roundabout he knew of, speeding around the curve and making his way back across the highway. He wasn't going home any time soon. Or, at least, he hoped he wouldn't have to. He was going to continue on his merry way until he either ran out of gas or hit somebody. It was near one in the morning, and he wasn't going to give up anytime soon. People would be off the road soon, meaning he could have his fun until the cows came home. Or perhaps the pigs would arrive first.
       In Morty's rearview mirror, he saw red and blue break through the darkness, seeing an officer pull from his spot between two buildings and take off after Morty. The brunet growled in annoyance and sped up even further, almost at the max speed he could reach as even his speedometer seemed to struggle to keep up with him. He passed streetlights, watching as several cars moved from his way. People were heading home after a long shift, the roadways clearing for the most part until hit with another onslaught. The highway was seldom void of traffic, save for anytime between two and three AM. 
       The siren did nothing to sway the brunet's motives as he made his way back around the streets and moved once more along the highway, finding that damn car again. He glared directly ahead, his eyes darting over everything in his way, mapping out a route to avoid any unnecessary accidents today. The officer of the law seemed to have trouble matching his movements, making wide turns and last minute swerves behind Morty. What made it even more fun was when a second car took off behind Morty, more red and blue and godawful sirens.
       What the hell was Morty doing? He used to be a pastor, a law-abiding, happy citizen. He used to be the man you could trust, the one that would do it all. He used to be an every-man. And now he'd lost it all because he let himself be guilt tripped into this. He was brought back by guilt alone, convinced to leave it all behind over a few tears that were probably fake, offered up by a man that claimed he needed Morty. He was such a fucking liar. He didn't 'need' Morty. He didn't need anybody. He just 'wanted' a little fuck-toy punching bag, one that would keep crawling back, groveling at his feet because Rick was right. Morty wasn't anything until he'd met the man. But it wasn't a truth in the way that many read it. It was a truth by way of Morty knowing he wasn't what he was today until he met Rick and ignored every warning he'd been issued. He wasn't this horrible person until he'd let himself be influenced and swayed by a manipulative bastard that had enough money to buy all the human contact he needed. 
         Morty used to be somebody on his own. He used to be the sweetheart with a stutter that everybody loved and adored. They thought of him as a kid almost. The twenty-one year old kid with a heart of gold working in a godawful place. The kid that had gone twenty-one years without even knowing what a boner was because he hadn't taken sex-ed, hadn't done anything of that sort, hadn't had bad thoughts. He used to be the most innocent, most pure individual in the whole damn town.
       Now look at him. He was almost twenty-eight, running from the cops because he had, essentially, just been raped by the man he thought he could trust. The man he had been so dumb to believe held the entire damn world on a string, would never hurt him. He was tainted by a man lacking a moral compass, who couldn't be bothered with a guilty conscience or the knowledge of right from wrong. 
        Speak of the devil and he shall come. Morty found, to his sheer annoyance, the lighter colored vehicle moving through the squad cars, sneaking between them and Morty's vehicle. He watched the lights disappear, the sirens cut out, the cars pull back, all because that son of a bitch flashed his plate and *boom* they were gone. Nobody wanted to fuck with Rick because the man scared everybody. Maybe that's why he said he needed Morty. Because the brunet knew nothing of who he was and hadn't been as scared in the beginning. Because he used to radiate innocence and Rick just loved being able to destroy that. That's all the man loved. To take things, people even, and destroy them. 
       Morty hit the side of his steering wheel, continuing down the highway until he came to another roundabout. He followed this one halfway and made a last minute turn, watching Rick follow him like the man just had to see Morty after he'd forced himself upon the brunet, just to be sure he hadn't made it so Morty would leave again. Of course he wouldn't. Where was he supposed to go? His parents thought he was dead, pastor John Schelan was gone, Rick could find him anywhere anyway. He was trapped because of the man. What was he even supposed to say when he stepped from his car and walked up the path to his house? What was he supposed to say when Rick finally got his way and 'spoke' to the brunet about this?
       The brunet wouldn't've had time to think about it anyway. He found his street shortly, finally using his brakes as he made his way around the corner, effectively pulling into his driveway and watching Rick leave his car in the street. Morty huffed, stepping from the car with a hiss of pain before he shut the door behind him and leaned carefully on the vehicle as Rick walked slowly up his driveway.
       "What?" he called out, watching Rick below the streetlamp. The man had his hands in his pockets, as far as Morty could tell. He stood roughly a foot away, as though unsure of what he was to do. "What happened?" he questioned after a moment of heavy silence. Morty scoffed incredulously, shrugging. "I don't know, kinda figured you can't forget something like that. Were you too coked out of your mind to even remember?" Morty ground out, standing as tall as he could. 
       "Morty, I never-" The brunet held his hand up to silence the man. "No. Don't give me that. Every time, it's always 'I never meant that', 'You gotta understand', 'I just didn't know what to do'. You can't-- You can't fucking make up excuses every time. You can't expect to f-fix everything with a quick 'I never meant to do that'. It doesn't change the fact that you still did it. You wanna know what you did?" Morty paused a minute, waiting. "That wasn't rhetorical," he spat. "I'm giving you an opportunity to walk away right now."
        Rick nodded slowly after a minute. "Yes. I want to know what I did." Morty shrugged, "Fine. You wanna know? You called me back there and said you were tired of my shit. You said I had another lesson to learn. You wanna know how long it's been since I've had sex? It had been almost six fucking years. Six years, and suddenly I've got you scaring the shit out of me, tying me up and hitting me. I though we were done with this shit. I thought you were done. You raped me, and you must have been too out of it, too high in the fucking world, to realize I blacked out. I fucking blacked out on that table and you must have had a field day. I'm barely standing right now because I have the fucking car holding me up. I almost had to crawl to the drawer just to cut the fucking gag from my mouth. I'm just glad you were too out of it to even tie a knot right because it would have been fun when you woke up to find me sitting there, pants around one ankle, gagged and bound and unable to fucking walk. That's what you did, Rick. You used me worse that ever before. That's what you fucking did." 
       Morty hadn't realized until he'd finished talking, but he had begun to cry. The sensation of a droplet welling beneath his chin and plummeting to the earth brought it to his attention and he quickly wiped at his face. "I'm going to tell you, right now. I do not want anything more to do with you. I have tried and tried. I prayed for you when that was happening. I prayed for you to be forgiven, for you to be okay, because I knew you weren't yourself. I prayed for you, even when I sat there wondering what kind of God let's that happen. I tried to help you, I tried to be there for you. I put my all into you. I've given it all, all of it, up for you. I'm done. I'm not quitting, God knows I can't do that. But I'm done. With you, with all of it. I don't wanna talk to you, don't wanna see you, I want absolutely nothing to do with you. Just go home. There's nothing for you here anymore, Rick." Morty stepped away from the car, almost falling over before he steadied himself against it again with one hand. "I don't want to hear an apology, I don't want an explanation. Just walk down the driveway and go home."
       Morty walked to his front door very carefully, spinning when asked to 'hold on'. He quickly caught his phone, nodding in appreciation. As he spun to unlock the door, he heard the same question the man always asked when he had screwed up, the same question he had asked after sitting through Morty's sermon for the first time. "Do you still love me?"
       Morty laughed almost bitterly, pushing his door open and replying without facing the man. "How could I ever love you after everything that's happened?"