Death of a Simpson
Written By: Roger J. Milos III

Authors Notes: Death of a Simpson began as a small segment in a much broader storyline that I really liked and decided to go back and flesh out. This is my first attempt at Fan Fiction so forgive me for the length. I don't know any better. I found Homer the most difficult to write for; I went for canon circa Seasons 4-6, this was a conscious decision. Otherwise it rapidly would've degenerated into the more recent "Shrieking Homer" and I think the overall quality of the story is better for it. Maggie was definitely the most interesting to write for, however, because she's pretty much left blank (exempting the future-centric episodes and her occasional affinity for firearms...). I was satisfied with the direction her characterization took and being the oldest of three boys, I'm about as far from being in her situation as possible. The rest of the characters were pretty easy to fall into because I either felt close to them emotionally or I knew someone in my life to base them off of. Watching 3-4 hours of the show almost daily might've had some influence too.

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Chapter 5 - Trapped
The first thing Lisa became aware of as she struggled into consciousness was how dark everything seemed. A thick, wholly consuming one that immediately sent her into a blind panic. "Oh god! Where am I?" Her rationality kicked in at that moment and she tried to focus on something, anything else. "The ground." Lisa decided and shifted slightly. The movement afforded her marginally more comfort but more importantly, it indicated the second and third things about her surroundings. The floor felt grainy against her hands, like unfinished wood, and she could feel thick ropes binding her arms and legs tightly. She also realized she had a blindfold wrapped securely over her eyes, though that did little to calm her.

Lisa's mind cleared as time passed slowly, bringing with it foggy memories of the morning. Bart left without her... she had to walk to school... okay, but then... nothing. Trying as hard as she could Lisa couldn't recollect how she came to be here. "Wherever that is."

"Hello?" She called out, trying to gauge where in the room she was.

From the odd way the sound echoed Lisa could tell she was in a fairly large chamber. That didn't help, and wherever she was there didn't seem to be any windows to allow warmth inside. Lisa shivered, more from fear than the chill in the air, and tried to move again, to no avail. She would never get very far tied up like this, so instead Lisa focused on gathering more information about her surroundings.

"There's no noise!" The revelation jolted through her mind. In point of fact the only thing she had heard up to now were her own attempts at sound and the steadily increasing speed of her breathing. No birds, no cars, no people. Lisa was utterly alone and the irony sliced into her wickedly, threatening to open her freshly sutured psyche. Her eyes watered, turning the blindfold into a damp mess, then a tiny voice awoke at the back of her subconscious.

"So that's it, huh? You're just going to give up?" It's imagined tone suggested displeasure, even a touch of contempt. "Come on, Lis! FIGHT!"

"It's hopeless!" Lisa gritted her teeth and struggled against the ropes, not quite sure how to react.

"So cry me a river. Build a bridge and get over it! Just because it seems hopeless doesn't give you an excuse not to try!" The voice chided her.

"Oh dear god, I've lost my mind." Lisa thought nervously.

"I can hear that, you know."

"Sorry." She mentally replied. "But you are sort of a voice in my head!"

"So? This is just your brain doing what it has to in order to cope with what is going on. You aren't crazy, so calm down already!"

"Okay... then what's happening?" Lisa resigned to let this curious happenstance play itself out. After all, it wasn't like she had a choice in the matter. She wasn't going anywhere.

"Hell if I know. I'm essentially you. But we can find out. What do you know?" The voice turned serious.

"Well, I know that this sucks, the floor is hard, I can't feel most of my arms, the air is too dry and now I'm talking to myself. Did I mention how much this SUCKS?!"

"Yes." It responded coyly. "But you haven't really answered the question. Those are complaints. What do you know?"

"What do you want? I'm tied up and blindfolded, alone in some godforsaken room. How much else is there I could know?"

"How did you get here?"

"I can't remember! The last thing I know I was doing was going to school and I don't even know how long ago that was! What am I missing?!"

"Stop panicking! Someone had to bring you here, right?" Lisa's stomach contracted painfully.

"They'll be back." She reasoned, adding that important fact to the slowly forming picture in her mind.

"Very good, Lis. You can prepare for that, at least. Whoever did this probably won't be gone much longer. Is there anything here you can use?"

"I don't think so... hang on, maybe if I found the wall..." With something to work towards, Lisa broke out of her private discussion and found that she could, in fact, slowly inch her way along the floor. By getting to a wall she would at least have some leverage in the inevitable confrontation. Minutes crept by and finally Lisa let out a gasp of relief as her head bumped into something solid.

"Going somewhere?" A frighteningly familiar male voice asked dryly. She hadn't heard anyone nearby, and that could only mean... he was there the whole goddamned time! She recoiled in horror at the personal violation and managed to place the voice to someone she hadn't seen in a long time.

"Sideshow Bob?" Her horror turned to dread as she realized how much trouble she was in. A hand firmly grasped her arm at the elbow and Lisa felt her weight leave the ground as she was unceremoniously carried a short distance and dumped against the wall she had been searching for. The blindfold was removed abruptly and she had to look away in order to let her eyes adjust to the suddenly brilliant light.

"Come now, Lisa, we've been acquainted for years. Just Bob will suffice." His voice carried the weight of a threat. As Lisa's eyes came into focus she looked upon the man in front of her for the first time in nearly four years and almost yelped at the sight of him. Once tall, bushy, ginger locks of hair now hung in limp, faded and greasy strands, casting his face into shadow. That face had, at one time, held the air of a dignitary but now it was pockmarked and ragged, the eyes never quite staying still. He looked to have suffered immensely since Lisa had last seen him, and the impact was evident on his emaciated body. She swallowed hard and tried to summon as much courage as possible before she responded.

"What do you want with me? Why are we here of all places?" Lisa took in more of her surroundings and was struck by how familiar they seemed, as if it was just out of her reach to place within her memory. Bob's eyes flashed dangerously and he suddenly flew at her, holding out a knife she hadn't noticed. He stopped, quick as lightning, the knife a hair's breadth away from her throat.

"Do be quiet! I've little patience today!" His expression reversed itself but he remained uncomfortably close, never wavering from her face. "Though I suppose those are fair questions. You assume I intend to lure your troublesome sibling here so that I might finally taste of the sweet waters of revenge?"

Lisa moved her head very slowly up and down, careful of the knife still drawing a neat line on her throat, as her heart thudded painfully against her ribcage. The voice in the back of her head warned her against any sudden movements. Finally Bob stood up to his considerably full height and smiled cruelly.

"It has been a long time, hasn't it?" Bob looked into Lisa's eyes and she saw nothing but endless madness. He stood and paced several steps away. "Too long, in fact, for you fail to see the simple brilliance of what I have planned. Your brother's day will come, do not doubt, but for now he is... irrelevant."

Lisa didn't understand what he was getting at, but a hint, an inkling sent a glacial chill up her spine, raising the fine hairs on the back of her neck.

"What do you want?" She repeated.

"I have come to understand something, child." Bob cut her off with another wild mood swing, the primal glint returning to his eyes as he casually manipulated the knife. "Every time I have sought vengeance it was not young Bartholomew who thwarted my carefully laid designs. No..." He turned and faced her fully.

"It was you." The knife stopped, pointing ominously at Lisa's heart.

"Me...?" Lisa found it difficult to speak as the weight of his implied gesture flooded her mind. "You monster, you wouldn't!"

Lisa knew now what Bob intended. Her eyes widened as she tried to keep from giving in to the despair quickly rising to consume her mind. "There has to be something I can do to stop this!"

Suddenly Lisa realized where she was. "I knew it!" The voice in the back of her mind screamed angrily. "Krusty's old television show set!" Maybe she could buy some time by sidetracking Bob. Lisa thought back to the odd series of events surrounding Krusty's passing and her own private suspicions.

Herschel Krustofski, better known as Krusty the Clown, was discovered dead four years ago under mysterious circumstances. Since his will stated that he wanted no autopsy, no one knew how it really happened. Bart was crushed when he heard the solemn news, irrefutable due to the fact that all DNA tests allowed under the legal stipulations proved it was really his childhood hero. After mourning briefly Bart insisted to everyone that he knew Sideshow Bob had to be responsible. Secretly Lisa agreed with him. Now that she thought about it, Bart's attitude had taken its largest turn for the worst right after that horrid affair, most likely becauseno one had openly supported him. Lisa realized her mistake now, and promised herself that she would try to make it up to him. "First things first. I've gotta stall this maniac!"

"Is this where you've been hiding all this time?"

"Why, yes. I have been living here as a matter of fact!" Bob spat viciously. "It has a certain poetic justice to it, don't you agree? The "clown" who disgraced the name of Robert Underdunk Terwilliger, in death, provided me with such a convenient place to hide!

"How he screamed, Lisa! I didn't honestly think there was that much life left in the man, but the surprise was... delicious." Bob's head moved slightly, illuminating his face with an unseen source of light.

The admission of murder brought Lisa's situation sharply into focus. She now knew this psychotic was capable of that most vile of human acts. Two choices flashed into her mind at that moment. "I can goad him on and get this over with." She rejected that on principal. "Or I have to keep him busy and trust that Bart is smart enough to figure out what happened, where I am and help somehow." With a shudder she attempted the second.

"Obviously killing Krusty didn't satisfy you. What makes you think doing the same to me or even Bart will be any different?"

"I am a very patient man, Lisa. Do not delude yourself with thoughts of rescue. It's not the killing that I find to be enjoyable." Bob took a step towards her, his face darkening once again. But his eyes, still visible, reflected the sudden lucidity by finally focusing and remaining still.

"It's the build-up to death. That look in a person's eyes as you steal their last shreds of hope and finally... break them. I have a feeling you and I are going to have a lot of "catching up" to do before this is over. There is plenty of suffering ahead for you, my dear. Be patient or I may spoil things for the both of us, and we don't want that... do we?"

Lisa's brain bellowed at her to run, suddenly not caring that she couldn't possibly do it. The finality of what was going to happen engulfed her, overloading her mind and plunging her back into the merciful blackness. Lisa's last thought echoed through the void rushing up to consume her. "Please, Bart! Hurry!"

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