First, I'd like to thank everyone who has bothered to read the earlier versions of this story, for all your input and encouragement. In particular, I'd like to give mentions to Graham Dawson, Marco Bierzcola, and Soren Loveborg (I hope I spelt all your names right!) - it's really no exaggeration to say that without your willingness to read my many draftings of the story, and your tolerance of me when I went off into my moods, this would never have been written. Anyway, here we are, at long last... LISA FITZGERALD --------------- Lisa Fitzgerald pushed open the back door softly, and poked her head into the kitchen. Her father was nowhere to be seen - good. She crept inside and silently pushed the door shut again. Hopefully, he was either out, or he'd fallen asleep - although she knew it was unlikely, Lisa even wondered whether her mother had returned home.Peering around nervously, she noticed an empty Vodka bottle, plus some crushed beer cans on the table. It didn't look good. Placing her saxophone carefully upon the table, Lisa set about feeding herself - her father hadn't bothered to make dinner last night, and nor had he provided anything for her lunch today, so Lisa worked quickly and eagerly. As she hungrily wolfed down her jam sandwich, Lisa wondered how long her dad would be like this. It had been three days since her mother had walked out on them, but it had been coming for a long time - ever since he had been forced to leave work about a year ago, he had became more and more reliant on a bottle for his company. Her father had been a proud man - he was Jack Fitzgerald, chief of Shelbyville Fire Department. Well, he HAD been until the accident made him unable to continue. Not the most patient of people anyway, being robbed of his livelihood and dignity had slowly turned him more and more irritable and angry, and would often take his frustrations out on whatever he could get his hands on. Though she didn't like to admit it, being left alone with him made Lisa nervous - he was a big man, and genuinely frightening when he lost his temper. He had certainly lost it when his wife finally told him she was leaving. Though it did sadden Lisa, her mother's decision was not a suprising one. She knew that they often had furious rows, and that the excuses that they gave her when she saw her mother injured were becoming more and more inplausible. Even before her father had lost her job and the family was seemingly happy, Lisa had not enjoyed the best of relationships with the woman that beared her - she had never felt that she had been entirely accepted by either of her parents. Lisa had heard everything on that fateful night - the raised voices, the accusations, the reprisals. Of course, the thing that still played over and over in her head was her mother screaming, at the very peak of the argument, that Lisa was not her husband's daughter. The impact of that revelation was still as strong as it had been when it had first been uttered, and scared Lisa even more - her main protection from the anger of her "father" had been snatched away from her. She had often seen the bruises that her mother tried to hide from her in the aftermath of the blazing rows the couple had experienced in the past. As she stood nervously, Lisa contemplated the ramifications of her paternal crisis - was her mother actually speaking the truth when she said that? Suddenly, Lisa heard a noise. Banging and clattering was followed by an angry shout. She froze in fear, her heart pounding - not only was he awake, he was in a foul mood as well. The kitchen door flew open, and he was stood in front of her. His glazed look and dulled reactions gave away that he had been drinking heavily. In his hand, he held a bottle of whisky. If he hadn't been leering at Lisa with such a poisionous, hateful stare, his difficulty to stand upright would have made him a comical figure. As it was, Lisa could feel herself shaking in fear. Finally, he spoke, in the powerful, stern voice that Lisa had once found so comforting. "Are you stealing my food, child??" he spat, slurring his speech; in particular, the word child was one filled with utter contempt, as if it were the very worst insult that he could dream of to throw at her. Lisa stared back at him while he swigged the last mouthful of whisky in the bottle. "WELL?" he bellowed angrily. Lisa was shocked at his question - she was stealing *his* food?? As strange as it sounded, Lisa realised that it was best she attempted to placate him. Composing herself as best she could while she was so terrified, she tried to explain. "But, dad..." Suddenly, he threw the empty bottle at her. Lisa let out a cry of panic, and dived out of the way just in time, being showed in shards of glass as it smashed against the wall. "DON'T CALL ME YOUR FATHER" he barked. Lisa backed herself into a corner, looking anywhere but into his empty eyes, but he followed her. Towering over the girl's tiny frame, he grabbed her hair and pushed his face into her's. She winced as she tried still to avert her gaze, the smell of drink on his breath unbearable. "I'm not your dad. No-one knows who he is, YOU BASTARD!" By now, Lisa could feel tears welling up. She'd always looked up to this man - now, she didn't even know who her *real* father was. He continued to stare intensely and furiously at her. She tried to squirm free, but his grip was too hard - she felt her entire scalp would be torn out at any moment. Lisa hoped, prayed, for someone, anyone, to walk through the door and stop this, but her saviour didn't come. He continued. "Nobody knows who your dad is, 'cause your mother's just a dirty little slut!" he said evilly, seemingly enjoying describing his wife in detail. "And so are you!" With that, he flung Lisa onto the floor. She fell down on her face, crying. She'd never heard so much hatred directed at anyone, let alone herself, and certainly not from the man she until very recently called her daddy. "But..." she said. His response was swift and brutal. Lisa screamed in agony as he rammed his foot into her midriff, screaming blue murder at her. "NEVER take anything from this kitchen without my permission. Got that??" he screamed. Lisa felt like she was going to choke as she curled herself into a ball. She looked up at him, praying for her ordeal to end. He swayed above her, seemingly struggling under the influence of the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed. Long seconds passed by as Lisa waited to see what he would do next. Eventually, to Lisa's relief, the phone rang. She watched her father stagger into the living, and climed slowly to her feet. As he engaged in a bitter slanging match with a hapless telemarketer, she made her way past him and up to her bedroom as quickly as possible. Upstairs, Lisa winced in pain as she lay on her bed, clutching an old picture of her family. She was still shaking from the viciousness of her father's attack, and sobbed gently as she tried to work out what she had done to deserve this treatment. In her hyper-aware state, she jumped at the slightest sound, and couldn't settle until she was sure that he wasn't coming to do anything more to her. As darkness slowly fell, Lisa heard the front door being pulled open, and then slammed shut violently. Furitively peering out of her bedroom window, she saw her father cut a pathetic, if still terrifying figure as he lurched down the street. Lisa was too numb from shock and hurt to feel relieved, but all the same a great weight was lifted from her shoulders. Silently, she got up, brushed her teeth, said her prayers, and then climbed into her bed, wrapping her blanket as tightly around herself as she could. Though it offered no real protection, at least Lisa could try to ignore the emotions running through her mind, and pretend to be the happy, loved little girl she once was. Lisa's sleep was not a peaceful one. The beating her father had just given her played again in her mind time and time, until she finally awoke with a scream of terror. Sat alone in the moonlight, she jumped at the slightest sound, trying to work out whether or not her father had returned home. Eventually, she managed to drift off back to her nightmares. The next morning, Friday morning, Lisa found her father asleep downstairs. He looked almost peaceful as he lay curled on the sofa - the only thing that spoiled the affect was the half empty brandy bottle in his hand. The room was an untidy mess, with empty bottles scattered over the floor. It was obvious that no housekeeping had been done since Lisa's mother had left, and that nothing would be done. Lisa sighed as she felt pangs of hunger - she had barely eaten in days, but didn't dare take anything from the kitchen lest her father woke up. Mournfully, Lisa crept out of the door and to school. When Lisa arrived home, the house was once again quiet. She threw her bag down in the hall, and looked in the living room. Her father was nowhere to be seen - as she climbed the stairs, Lisa asked herself whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. When she got to her bedroom, Lisa was shocked. The room had been cleared out. The bed had been stripped, all her possessions had been taken away, and her cupboards and wardrobes were bare. Even her saxophone had gone. Filled with a mixture of suprise, confusion, and anger, Lisa raced downstairs to she if she could find any clues to what had happened. As she got out into the kitchen, Lisa could smell burning. The sight of her father standing over the remains of what had obviously been a bonfire made Lisa realise what exactly had happened to her things. Nervously, she stepped out into the garden. Her stomach churned, partly from hunger, and partly from fear - she was beyond caring about her possessions, and was more worried about what would happen to her. She told herself approaching her father was a bad idea, but she decided that it had to be done. Summoning up all her courage, Lisa spoke. "Dad?" she asked, trying to make her tone as neutral as possible. She could hear her voice shaking with fear. She awaited some sort of angry reponse, but none came. Instead, her father turned around and scowled at her. Though she tried to not look into his eyes, Lisa couldn't help but notice that they looked different - they were actually focusing on her, with a quite frightening intensity, and weren't glazed over. He was actually sober. "I'm getting rid of everything that reminds me of *her*. I don't want any of it in my house." he said, without turning around. His voice was a lot calmer now, Lisa noticed - however, she still got the impression that anger was not far away. Meekly, she asked him "Does that include my things?" "You're HER child, not mine." he rasped. He turned around to face her, the rage visibly building up in his face. "Believe me, there are going to be some changes around here, girl!" Lisa could feel the colour draining from her face. In spite of everything, she still loved her father, and hearing him talking this way upset her - after all, he was all she had now her mother had gone. Why hadn't she even tried to get in touch? "But, dad..." she protested. As she said it, her father knocked her to the ground with the back. of his hand. "DON'T CALL ME THAT, BITCH!" he bellowed at her, his words hurting the girl far more than his fist. "It makes me sick just looking at you!" He grabbed hold of Lisa's dress, and dragged her into the house. Grabbing Lisa's hair, he pushed her face up against a mirror. Too scared to stare away from her tear-stained face, Lisa could still make out her father's face contorted with hatred. "Look at yourself!" he said, his voice quietening down but still retaining a frightening amount of anger. "You're a bad person! Say it!" he spat. Lisa mumbled something quietly, so he pulled at her hair harder, until she whimpered in pain. "Louder! Shout it!" he demanded. "I'm a... a b-bad person." she said, at the top of her voice. "Nobody loves you! No-one cares about you! You deserve this!" he said, obviously revelling in the psychological torture he was inflicting upon her. "Noody... loves me... no-one cares about me... I... I... I deserve this!" she sobbed. By now, she was numb inside - she was beginning to hope that her father wanted to kill her. Finally, he let go of her hair, and squatted so that his face was level with Lisa's. Too terrified to turn to face him, she kept looking straight ahead into the mirror. "You know, when I think of that girl who died in the accident, who had her life wiped out for nothing, and then I see you're still alive, I don't think it's fair." Lisa had often picked up things about The Accident, and how her father had failed to save a young girl about her age - now, she began to feel even worse when she thought about the injustice of it. If it was possible to feel any worse, of course. Her father stood up. "I want you to keep saying that to yourself until I say so, alright?" Lisa nodded obidiently, still staring into the mirror as if her life depended on it, which it quite concievably did. "And I want to her you, okay?" he said as he waltzed into the living room. Lisa stood perfectly still, reciting the passage over and over again as darkness fell. Every time she slipped, or was inaudible, her father volleyed a torrent of abuse at her. The more she said those words, the more Lisa began to believe them as gospel. Her legs began tiring, while she struggled to keep her voice at a level to keep *him* happy. She finally stopped when she felt something warm trickle down her leg. After a few seconds, her father appeared in the doorway, demanding to know why she had stopped reciting her new mantra. Lisa looked down at the small puddle that had formed beneath her feet, and screwed her eyes shut as he pounced to punish her. "YOU DIRTY LITTLE SHIT!!" he screamed. Grabbing her hair again, he pushed her head down into the small pool of urine. "I'll teach you to make a mess of my carpet, you fucking ANIMAL!" "I'm sorry... I'll clear it up, I promise!" she screamed, genuinely disappointed and upset with herself for doing it. Her father grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, and dragged her over to the stairs. Taking out a key from his pocket, he removed a padlock from the door of the cupboard underneath the staircase and opened it. "This is your new bedroom," he grinned as he flung Lisa inside with as much force as he could. "You can piss all you want in here." He laughed coldly. "I'm going to make you as sorry that you were born as I am." With that, he slammed the door shut and plunged Lisa into darkness. Curling herself into a ball, Lisa cried softly. The cupboard was tiny - there was barely any room for her to even curl up. Old records and newspapers were also taking up room, making it even more uncomfortable. Lisa couldn't see a thing in the dark, and found it hard to make herself comfortable. She had hit her head when her father threw her, and she was sure she could feel blood just above her eyebrow. Her stomach churned as she replayed everything in her head - especially the things that she had been forced to shout at herself. It was all true - this man, who she had thought was her father despised her, and her real parents obviously didn't care for her if they left her alone with him. Lisa longed for her mommy to come in, gather her up in her arms, and take her away, but she knew that it was never going to happen. After a while, Lisa became distracted from her misery - she could smell something wafting through. It was a rich, mouthwatering odour, probably steak, or hamburger at the least - her father was cooking his dinner. It didn't distract her for long, as it only made her aware of how hungry she was. She hadn't eaten seriously for over two days now, and the cramps were starting to become painful. She began to moan in hunger to herself, and prayed for something to eat, not that she expected anything - it was obviously another one of her father's methods of torture. Several long minutes spent fantasysing about food later, Lisa was startled as she heard a loud knock on the cupboard door. "I've got something for you" her father said. Lisa tensed herself as she waited for what he had in store for her now. The cupboard door flung open, and the light blinded Lisa. Her father stood, staring into her tiny prison with a malevolent leer on his face. "Dinner time" he said, and handed Lisa an opened tin of dog food. Lisa didn't care what it was - it was food, and the chances of her getting anything better were slim. She accepted the can, still curled up tightly in the same position, and stared into it. The smell was vile, and the contents didn't exactly look appetising, but she could tell from her father's expression that the consequences for not eating it would be far worse than those for if she did. "Go on, use your hand!" her father grimaced, waiting for the show. Lisa let out an anguished sigh, and began to eat. As she expected, the food tasted digusting - she could feel herself wanting to wretch. After a few mouthfuls, she couldn't take any more, and handed the can back. Her father laughed. "If you're lucky, I might give you something else tomorrow. You'd better get some sleep - you've got an early start!" he told her as she locked the cupboard door again. Alone in the darkness, Lisa tried pulling the old newspaper sheets over herself to stay warm. That night, she hardly slept at all. Going over her situation again and again, Lisa became aware of one thing - if she wanted to live much longer, she would have to rely on herself. The next morning, Lisa was woken up by her father standing over her. "It's six thirty" he said. "I want you up at this time every morning from now on, okay?" Lisa climbed out of the cupboard. Her body ached from spending the night cramped in such a small space, and she was stiff all over. Taking her arm, her father led the bleary eyed child out into the back garden and told her to stand over at the far side. "Take off your clothes", he said. "W-what?" asked Lisa. What did he want to do to her now?!? "You heard me. Take off your clothes. NOW!" he barked back, the aggression in his voice rising. Lisa gulped. Shaking with fear, she reluctantly complied, her mind racing with thoughts of what horrors might await her. She thought about screaming and hoping for the best, but was too paralysed with terror. "Throw them here" he told her. Again, she did as she was told, and awaited the worst as she stood naked in front of him. "This should wake you up!" he said, picking up the garden hose, and spraying her with icey cold water for what seemed like an enternity. Eventually, he turned the hose off, and threw Lisa a towel. He still barking instructions at her - "You're not allowed to use the bath anymore - this is how you wash yourself!" Lisa shivered as she dried herself. she couldn't remember ever being as cold as this - lucky for her it wasn't yet winter. When she had dried herself, her father handed her the only other clothes she had left - a pair of dungarees, and an old t-shirt, and led her inside once she was dressed. ---- Adjusting to her new life was hard for Lisa. Her father, or least the man who she had thought was her father - had made his feelings known quite plainly. Lisa was now basically his slave - she did anything and everything he wanted her to, in exchange for the occasional morsel of food. If she worked well and quickly, she was given a decent meal and was allowed to sleep on the kitchen floor. If she didn't work to his satisfaction, she spent the night in the cupboard forcing down dog food. After a while, Lisa didn't even mind being beaten or starved - it was the absolute contempt that he had for her that bothered her, the way that she was treated as something subhuman - her life reminded her of the time she learnt about prisoners of war at school. Even that didn't compare to how hurt Lisa was by her mother's complete lack of interest in her - Lisa had always tried to be good, and to do everything she was told, so even if she could understand her captor's actions, she was at a loss to explain her mother's absence. Not that her father wasn't. Lisa was a bad child, who had brought shame on the good Fitzgerald name, and deserved punishment. She tried her hardest to convince herself that it wasn't true, but she was eventually unable to think of any other reason why she was left alone with this man. As the months passed, Lisa's life began to take it's toll on her. With only two pairs of clothes, and a weekly hosing down her only allowed concession to cleanliness, her appearance and personal hygiene suffered badly. Her health suffered, too - without proper nourishment, she became dangerously thin, and her skin was deathly pale. Lisa became an outcast in school - a lonely, withdrawn girl with tattered clothes, a prime target for abuse. If, during an average school day, no other student talked to her, she counted herself lucky - as her old friends became more and more obsessed with clothes, makeup, and boys, she was quickly left behind, existing only as a joke for the more priveledged children. She had been bullied, but before long the bullies realised that there was little, if anything, to gain from beating her up - unbeknown to them, she was already hardened to that type of abuse. Even most teachers ignored her. Outside of lessons, Lisa spent most of her time sat in a corner of the school library reading, hoping that no-one would come over and make fun of her. Reading was the closest Lisa had to pleasure, and the only thing that maintained her slender grip on sanity - she would borrow books from the library, and secretly read them at night when she was fortunate enough to be in the kitchen. She especially loved reading fairy stories, and anything with a happy ending - her joy at seeing the characters overcome their own problems was tempered only slightly by the sorrowful realisation that she unlikely to ever find her own salvation. Lisa's personality changed, too. As well as retreating into herself, her confidence and self esteem plummeted to rock bottom. Having convinced herself that she fully deserved all of her problems, she tried to be as polite, pleasant and obiedient as possible - she was desperate to be liked by someone, anyone. She often wondered about whether or not she should do anything about the abuse her father was giving her, but always convinced herself that no-one would care, and that shirking her punishment would be a cowardly thing to do. Lisa bottled up all the shame and despair that she felt - she had no-one she could share any of it. Slowly, she became less and less trusting of people - the majority of the attention she recieved was negative, either angry or mocking, and she began to shy away from human contact, in the hope that she could avoid any more pain. If Lisa had been able to disappear from the face of the Earth, she would have done so in an instant. Even though his alcholism was intesifying, Lisa's father was still too clever to give the outside world any indication of his daughter's suffering - rather than using physical abuse, he preferred mental torture. He was still a respected member of the local community, albeit one who had fallen on hard times, and wanted to protect that reputation at all costs. Even when drunk, he was an expert at playacting - no-one would ever suspect the way he behaved behind closed doors. There was one particular incident which ably demonstrated his ability to play the concerned, dignified father. One time, Lisa had been caught stealing food. She had been suffering from a cold, and was unable to do her chores in the alloted time - in fact, she was so slow she wasn't even given any dog food. When the hunger cramps became so acute she could barely stand up one day, she wandered into the local store, and in desperation took a packet of biscuits (she didn't even like biscuits - blinded by hunger, she just took the first thing she could get her hands on when no- one was looking.) from a shelf. A career in crime wasn't in the offing - the guilty look on her face gave her away as she walked past the cashier and tried to make her escape. The police were called, and Lisa was taken to the station. As she was driven away, Lisa prayed that she would be sent to Juvenile Hall - it would have been preferable to living with her father, and she might have even recieved a decent meal on occasion. Unfortunately for her, the police were willing to let her go with a caution. Her father had turned up to the station in a suit, and trotted out the usual cliches - she was a good kid led astray, she was still upset about her mother walking out on her, it was just a phase she was going through. He could certainly turn on the charm, and led her out of the station promising her and the officers the earth. Of course, the reprisals for bringing so much shame to the family were severe. That night, Lisa was taken to hospital with a broken arm - she had "fallen down the stairs", according to her father - and who would disagree with Jack Fitzgerald? Eventually, Lisa's life settled down into a routine. Every day brought the same trials, the same hatred, the same pain. She would have thought that the shame, grief and fear that constantly knawed away at her would eventually subside, but it was not so. Gradually, she became little more than a shell, an acquiescent, fearful robot with no real purpose. Before, Lisa had wished herself dead - now, she was even indifferent to that. As, it seemed, was everyone else. One day was different, however - Lisa's eleventh birthday. It was a cold winter's morning - still dark outside. Lisa she stared glumly at herself in the mirror. She was a pathetic sight - thin and pale, she had barely grown in years. She was still wearing the same dress that fitted her when she was eight. Now, it was dirty and threadbare, and the skirt didn't quite come down to her knees anymore. Lisa compared her reflection to her appearance in an old photograph she had found while cleaning her father's room. She looked happy then, as did her parents. She was healthy looking, while her eyes shone with the energy and innocence of any normal child. Now, they seemed burnt out, with only a few embers of fear and misery. Lisa also surveryed her injuries as she stared blankly at herself. Her father, staggering in from a drunken rampage that had lasted all night (possibly brought on by guilt, mused Lisa), had woken her and decided to celebrate by giving her the birthday bumps, as he had put it, before staggering away to bed. Used to the pain by now, she had simply curled herself into a ball, as usual, and took what he had to give her. As he became more and more reliant on alcohol, he had become more and more erratic - he had only used beatings sparingly in the past, but had became much more violent recently, and had in fact forbidden Lisa to leave the house for the past week. Lisa took this as a sign that things were going to get even worse - though she was glad to be away from the ritual humiliation that her classmates forced upon her, she knew that it would be little consolation. Something had to give. Eventually, she managed to break her stare, and stepped away from the mirror. She had been in front of it for hours now, pondering what had happened to her in recent years, and what was to come. Finally, she had made the decision, and was determined to see it through. Lisa sat on the couch (she was alone in the house), and stared around the empty living room. In the olden days, it would have been filled with birthday cards, presents, party decorations, and laughter. Instead, no-one seemed to care what day it was - if anything, the date of her birth was a day to mourn rather than herald. After years of brainwashing, Lisa blamed herself for this - she told herself that she hurt everyone around her merely by existing. Now, it was time to do something for those people, and remove the problem. Sadly, Lisa tore up the photo. The family had gone, thanks to her - her mother had forgotten all about her, and it didn't seem that her father would miss her. Lisa sighed - he had beaten her, once and for all. With tears in her eyes, Lisa pulled the bottle out of her pocket. Her stomach churned as she realised what she was about to do, but there was no way back anymore. The cap came off easily - hardly childproof. Lisa gulped, and told herself that this was the only way. She didn't know what would be waiting for her, but she knew that it couldn't be much worse than what she already had. Closing her eyes, she opened her mouth, and emptied the bottle's contents down her throat. Swallowing hard, Lisa forced the pills down. She had done it. At a loss at what to do with her final moments, Lisa prayed that God wouldn't judge her too harshly - not that he had answered many of her prayers in the past. Opening her eyes, Lisa noticed a thin ray of orange light breaking into the room - the sun was coming up. She had always loved sunrise - in happier times, when her father worked nights he would arrive home just as the sun came up, and usually woke Lisa - unable to get back asleep, she would often watch it in bed, as she heard her father's comforting voice in the next room. It might have been quite a bitter memory now, but it rekindled a little warmth in Lisa's soul - now it would soon be over, she felt free of the pain and anguish that had fettered her for so long. Getting up from the couch, Lisa walked out into the front garden. Her stomach was beginning to hurt now. Sitting on the doorstep, Lisa watched as the sun appeared over the horizion to begin a new day she would never see, and waited. ------ The light was blinding. Instinctively, Lisa tried to fight it as it stirred her. Confused, dizzy, and in pain, she tried to ignore it in an attempt to return to her dreamless sleep. "Lisa... Lisa... can you hear me?" came a voice. She groaned and flickered her eyes open for a few seconds, to try and placate it, before drifting out of consciousness again. Doctor Weir sighed wearily as he stood over his young patient. Doing the ER shift, he often saw unpleasant sights, and although this was far from the most gory he'd seen in his short career, it was obvious that the girl had been abused severely. She was dangerously thin, and pale, and her entire body was covered in bruises and cigarette burns, as was the rest of her body - he could only guess at the amount of damage that had been done that he couldn't see. "I found this in her hand, doctor." said the paramedic that had brought her in, and handed Doctor Weir a small, plastic pill bottle. "Pills?!?" asked the doctor, suddenly animated. "She hasn't, has she?" "Look at the bottle." the paramedic said neutrally. "They're vitamins. Looks like she *tried* to." The doctor stared glumly at the girl - if the grim reality of a battered child not yet into her teens attempting to take her own hadn't been so grim and depressing, he would have laughed at her mistake. "How did you find her?" "One of her neighbours saw her passed out in front of her house. Apparently, there was a load of commotion early this morning, too, but the house was empty when we got there. " the paramedic explained. "And no-one bothered to do anything, eh?" the doctor said with tired resignation, shaking his head. "We'd better clean her up and take her up to the ward. I'll get Stephanie to look after her - she's... uh... got experience with this kinda thing." As young and inexperienced as Doctor Weir was, he had already seen enough horrors in his short career to have developed the emotional callus that was needed to work in an emergency room. But the sheer sight of this injured young girl, whose life stretched out like an open road full of endless possibilities but had obviously suffered enough to have wanted to remove herself from the face of the earth was too much for him to remain detached from. Despite his best efforts at maintaining a professional distance, he found himself taking the girl's cold hand in his own. "Poor kid." he muttered to himself. ------- Marge thought she'd gotten rid of all the photos of Sean - she had systematically tried to remove every trace of him from her home, and her life, but to her dismay one photo, from her wedding, had slipped the net. Unfortunately for her, that one photo happened to be in the album that she brought down day to show her two children. "Who's that, mom?" asked Bart, her son, as he pointed to the strange man standing next to Patty and Selma as the Bouiver and Simpson families lined up. Marge sighed. She'd always wanted to tell Bart and Maggie about their uncle, but for one reason or another she'd never got round to it - after all, he and the rest of the family didn't have much of a relationship. Homer, her husband, held her hand to give her his support, like he always did. Now, there was no avoiding it. "That's... that's your Uncle Sean, Bart." she said. "Cool, a long lost uncle!" said Bart, enthusiastically. "Tell me about him." "Well, that was the last time I ever saw him." Marge began. "He wasn't a very nice person, Bart. He was a professional musician, and made quite a lot of money, but he wasted it. He was a womaniser, he gambled, and he drank and did drugs. The rest of family really didn't have anything to do with him." she sighed. Funny - it didn't really seem like much now. But then, there were a lot of things she probably didn't even know about, Marge thought. "How come I've never met him?" Marge took a deep breath. "He died a few years ago - it was a brain haemorage, after he got beat up in a fight. They never found who did it." she said, sadly. "Oh." said Bart, simply. He wanted to comfort his mother, but he couldn't find the words. After an awkward silence, he made his excuses and left the room. Homer realised that his wife was despondant, and tried to comfort her. "Come on, honey, it's all in the past now. And he did love you - what about all that money he left you?" Marge looked at him sadly. "That just shows that he knew people were after him - he wasn't even thirty and he had a will! And you know I don't want anything to do with his dirty money." she said. When Sean had died, he had bequeathed several thousand dollards to each of his sisters, but Marge had refused to touch the money out of principle - much to Homer's frustration. Realising that there was nothing that he could say, Homer simply took his wife in his arms, and once again let her lean on him. ------- "Uhh... where am I?" asked Lisa weakly, to no-one in particular. She remembered lying in front of her house in agony only made bearable because she was convinced her pain would soon be over. As she stirred, and slowly became more aware of her surroundings, she knew that she obviously wasn't dead - she also realised that her stomach still hurt just as much. Fighting the pain, as had become second nature to her by now, Lisa looked around the room - it was brilliantly white, and appeared to be very sterile and clinical. She was wearing a light blue gown, had her arm in plaster, and was lying in a bed - it was the first time since her mother left that she'd done so. Lisa was worried about what exactly they wanted with her, but she was too weak to get up and, despite her fears, she was actually comfortable. Suddenly, Lisa jumped when she heard the door open. She pulled the bedclothes over herself as much as she could, and waited to see who was coming in. Expecting to see her father storm in angrily, Lisa was quite suprised to see a young, friendly looking nurse enter. "Hello, Lisa," she smiled. "I'm Nurse Stanway. How are you feeling?" Lisa was suprised by the way that the nurse spoke to her - she was actually pleasant toward her, which was something Lisa didn't experience often. "Err... I'm okay, thanks" said Lisa, wincing in pain as she tried to sit up in bed. She was suprised again to see that nurse Stanway was concerned by this - "Oh, Lisa, is something wrong? Is your tummy still hurting?" Lisa nodded weakly, and watched passively as the nurse fussed over her - it reminded Lisa of being tucked in at night by her mother. "There, is that better, hun? I'll get Doctor Weir to give you some more painkillers." Nurse Stanway said kindly. "Thank you, ma'am." Lisa said, quietly. Despite by the acts of kindness the nurse was showing her, Lisa was still guarded and was afraid of saying or doing something that would upset her. "What's wrong with me?" Nurse Stanway hesitated for a moment. She suspected that the little girl knew exactly what she was doing in hospital - she'd been beaten black and blue, and had tried to commit suicide. It was obvious how much she'd suffered. Noting the worried look on her young patient's face, the nurse smiled. "We're just keeping an eye on you, that's all. And there's no need to call me ma'am, Lisa." she beamed, sat down on the bed next to Lisa. "Do you want anything, sweetie? A drink, something to eat?" "No thankyou, I don't want to be any trouble." said Lisa, her face giving away just how much she wanted to say yes. The nurse took her hand. "No bother" she smiled, looking straight into Lisa's mournful eyes. "Are you sure?" "Well... if you're sure I'm not putting you out, could I have a drink of water, please?" Lisa asked, weakly. "Sure. I'll be back in a minute." smiled Nurse Stanway as she left the room. Alone, Lisa wondered why the nurse had been so nice to her. Her father always went into great detail telling her about how much people disliked her - he said that she was, literally, a dirty, sordid little bastard. Lisa was anxious to keep Nurse Stanway happy, and to keep her from knowing about her past - it had been a long, long time since anyone had treated her like... like a *normal* person. Moved by a few simple, insignificant acts of kindess, a tear trickled slowly down Lisa's face. Though she had learnt the danger of hope over the past few years, with her new-found awareness of how life could be away from her father, Lisa prayed that she would never have to go back to him again. By the time Nurse Stanway returned, she found Lisa curled up, asleep again. Quietly, she tucked her patient, and stood watching over her. Lost in herself, she didn't notice Doctor Weir entering the room and creeping up behind her. She jumped as he tapped her on the shoulder. "DAVID! Don't do that!" she snapped quietly, mindful of the sleeping girl. "Sorry, Steph" he whispered. "Keeping an eye on her, eh?" he asked as he led the nurse silently out of the room and into the corridor outside. Out there, the nurse leant against the wall, her head in her hands. "How can anybody do that to another human being?" she asked, sadly. Like Doctor Weir, she was still young and idealistic, especially in cases like this. He put his hand on her shoulder, convincing himself that it was a gesture of support more than anything else. "It must bring back memories for you." he said. He'd often heard Nurse Stanway talking about her childhood, and her father, but he'd never actually mentioned it to her before now. She looked sadly into his eyes - he was transfixed by the pain in them. That's all it was, he assured himself - concern for a colleague, no attraction there. Quietly, she nodded her agreement, and quickly composed herself. "Still, that's in the past now..." she said, trailing off momentarily before regaining her train of though, and concentrating her energy on her patient. "What'll happen to her now?" she asked. "Well... we've still got to run a few more tests, but she's malnourished, and she could have pnuemonia, so she could be in here for a few weeks." Doctor Weir said. "As for after that... we've got to contact Social Services, and they'll probably take her into care." Nurse Stanway sighed unhappily, bad memories of her experience in care homes coming back. "Does she have to? I remember what it was like in a home - she wouldn't last five minutes!" she pleaded. "I don't see what else they can do - her mother's nowhere to be found, and she hasn't got any other family, apparently. I'm sure she'd be okay in care." Doctor Weir told her. "Really, Stephanie, you shouldn't get too attached to her." He cringed as he said those cliched words - it was advice he would do well to heed himself, and he knew it. She glowered at him. "Well, no-one else seems to fucking care about her, do they?!" she answered, suprising herself with the anger and forcefulness of her reply. He backed away from her a little, taken aback somewhat himself. Silence reigned for a few awkward moments. "I mean, how can you do that to your own daughter - your own flesh and blood?" she asked. "Well... she wasn't actually his kid - we got her birth certificate out, and it says the father is a guy called Sean Bouvier." Doctor Weir said, quietly. "He's dead, though. I checked." he said quickly, as she saw Nurse Stanway's eyes light up at the possibility that Lisa had a parent out there somewhere. "He must have relatives" she said, clinging to any hope she could. "Maybe they'll take her in." Doctor Weir shrugged his shoulders. "Stephanie, I doubt it..." "You never know, I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be." she smiled as she stood up and walked down the corridor. "Leave it with me!" she shouted at the Doctor, who stood shaking his head. She was going way above the call of duty - in fact, she seemed to be more than a little obsessive. But he couldn't help admiring her for it. ------- It was a beautiful day, and the sun shone brightly, the wonderful warmth of it's rays warming her whole body. She breathed the clean air, and sighed contently as she listened to the joyful birdsong coming from the lush trees. It was all fitting into place now - she knew exactly where she was. She was home. This was the place where Lisa grew up as a little girl, before her family moved to Shelbyville. She'd often wondered whether or not that had made any difference - her parents had both seemed a lot happier when they lived here, outside the city. It was mostly farmland around her house - in the long, endless summers, she spent hours on end exploring and playing in the rolling fields. Her mother always warned her about the dangers of wandering too far, of the bad people who wanted to hurt her - she never thought that she was living under the same room as one of them. Still, none of that mattered now - she could see someone in the distance, outside her old house. Was it... her mother? Letting her excitement get the better of her, Lisa ran towards the figure on the horizon. She'd waited, longed for this moment for so long now - it had gotten her through many a cold, lonely night before. She knew her mommy wouldn't abandon her. She knew that, deep down, she wasn't really the bad person the rest of the world seemed to want to make her think she was. She should have known better. As she got closer, she realised she was wrong. She could feel the temperature dropping, the sky darkening, and the birdsong petering out. As the idyllic summer day evaporated, so did Lisa's joy and hope, replaced by the all too familiar feeling of stomach-churning horror and fear. It was him. She didn't seem to be too close to him, but somehow he managed to reach and take hold of her arm. The world seemed to turn as icey panic yet again took it's grip on her. He leered at her murderously. "You can't run away from me!" he shouted as she squirmed in terror. He laughed joylessly as he produced a giant knife from nowhere, and dangled it menacingly over her. "I'll get you in the end!" he said, as he thrust the knife towards her. Lisa screamed as she was dragged back into reality. She could feel the tears streaming down her face as the realisation that she couldn't even hide from him in her sleep took control. As the confusion lifted, she realised that Nurse Stanway was leant over her, her face filled with concern. Looking into the girl's terrified, tearful eyes, the nurse knew exactly how much Lisa was suffering. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around Lisa as tight as she could, and hugged her. This unsettled Lisa somewhat - it had been a long time since anyone had shown her any sort of affection, and she wasn't exactly sure how to act. Over the years, she'd learnt how to hide her emotions and feelings from the world, realising that they made her even more vunerable to being hurt mentally. It had been easier to bottle them up somewhere than face up to them. Now, she had no choice. After a moment's uneasy hesitation, the pressure building up inside Lisa became too much. She'd been desperate for the tiniest iota of love for so long now, she could barely believe she was recieving it now. Eventually, she gave in, and threw her arms around Nurse Stanway, grateful that, at last, somebody actually seemed to care about her. ------- That morning, Jack Fitzgerald had been in a particularly foul mood - he usually was for the girl's birthday. He'd been arrested in the midst of a violently drunken rage, and now, in the drunk tank, he had nowhere to hide from his biggest fear - sobriety. In the cold light of day, he was trapped. He wasn't the hero that he liked to pretend he was, now - he was just a drunk. Whenever he dwelled on thoughts like this, Jack usually reached for the bottle, or Lisa. Here, he had no way to release the forces that drove him to such terrible lows. He'd never meant to hurt Lisa, and neither did he hate her... at least, not when he was sober - she'd just gotten in the way of his temper. He had always been a physical person, a doer rather than a thinker, and that hadn't been a problem when he worked at the Fire Department - he'd always had something to channel his energy into. Sat at home, brooding over the accident that had robbed him of his livelihood, he was like a coiled spring, waiting for something to unleash all his pent up anger and resentment on. That something, more often than not, was the girl. For all his bodily strength, Jack knew how weak he was. Weak for allowing himself to become this broken, bitter mess, and for hitting out because of it. He'd already driven his wife away, long before she'd actually walked out - he had known all along that Lisa wasn't his daughter. Oh, but he'd tried to love her. He really had. He knew that she was a good kid, most of the time, and that he'd treated her badly. He'd managed to get away with it for years before that, though - it was only when he collapsed into his current state that the misdirected resentment he'd ignored for years came flooding back. All he could see now when he looked at the girl was the bastard offspring of his bitch of a wife and the asshole who'd taken her away from him, and since he couldn't hurt them any more, he had to attack the next best thing. Still, the more the thoughts churned over and over in his head, the more he grew aware that he couldn't blame the drink too much. Not really. As powerful as alcohol was, he knew that his own terrible anger was as intoxicating as any drug, and what he was capable of when the red mist descended. Despair cascaded over his battered psyche as his unusually clear mind heaped more and more misery upon itself. He wasn't a man who showed emotion easily, but he could feel his masculine facade crumble as he delved deeper into his soul. He could feel himself shedding tears, something he'd not done himself since he was a boy, but something he had made Lisa do so many times. He couldn't even blame the rashness of his fury for his terrible deeds, he began to realise - some of the cruel tortures that he had inflicted upon Lisa had been carefully calculated to a cruelly obsessive level. As much as he had looked for simple answers, Jack knew that there weren't many of them - most of the time, he had certainly knew what he was doing. Alone in his own private hell, Jack began to get some idea of what he had done to poor Lisa. ------- Doctor Weir looked on in amazement. He'd known for nurses to get a little too attached to their patients, but this was something else. Stephanie had finished her shift well over an hour ago, but she was still there with the girl. Maybe her social life was empty, he thought. Maybe he *should* ask her if she'd like to go for that drink - just as friends, of course, nothing else... Nurse Stanway knew exactly how Lisa felt. It wasn't something she liked to go over, but her father had died when she was a child, perhaps a little younger than Lisa, and her mother had re-married. Unfortunately for the young Stephanie, her step-father had a short temper, and somewhat resented the fact that he had to share his new wife with her children. Several of her unhappy teenage years had been spent in a children's home - the sort of grey building full of grey, uncaring people that wasn't very much different from any other institution. She was determined not to let the same fate befall Lisa. At first glance, Lisa appeared to be a normal, if rather shy and nervous, little girl. But there was a sadness and pain in her demeanour that was unmistakeable - it was a part of who she was. As would be expected, she was withdrawn and guarded, and reluctant to open up. In her short career, Nurse Stanway had seen people like this before, but never anyone quite as acutely as Lisa - not only was her misery so obvious, but she fought to try and hide it as best she could. While people usually reacted to suffering by becoming hardened, Lisa still had an innocence and purity that magnified her pain, and a despondency that suggested that she didn't have an ounce of anger or hatred for those who had made her suffer - rather, she wanted desperately to be loved and accepted by them. In spite of everything, Lisa thought the best of people, and had an indominatable hope that people would do the same for her. "So they were only v-vitamins?" Lisa asked. Nurse Stanway nodded, silently. Lisa stared back at her, shame and embarrasment burning in her eyes. "Sorry." she said, quietly. "What for?" asked the nurse, as neutrally as she could. "Well... I... he..." Lisa mubled nervously, and tailed off. The truth was, she didn't really know. It had become a reflex action - every time someone was mad at her, it was invariably her fault, so she tried to apologise. It never worked, but she still tried. "I don't want to be a problem." she finally said, sadly. Nurse Stanway took the girl's hand, and tried to look directly into her eyes - she'd noticed that Lisa didn't like to make eye contact with people. "You're not a problem, Lisa." she said kindly. "My dad says I am." said Lisa. The mention of her father seemed to worry her, and she stiffened up in panick. "He's going to be mad when he finds out I'm here, you know." she said. "I'm going to be in trouble when I go home." "Don't worry about him, Lisa." Nurse Stanway said, stroking her hand comfortingly. "He's not going to hurt you any more." Lisa coughed weakly. She wanted to believe the nurse, but she didn't dare raise her hopes - she'd done that all too many times and got hurt. "He will." she said, softly and mournfully. "He hates me, he won't stop." Nurse Stanway sighed. The poor girl was terrified, as well she might be. "We won't let him get anywhere near you." she said. She could see Lisa looking at her expectantly, so she elaborated. "We'll find you somewhere new to live - somewhere he won't be able to find you." The nurse noted Lisa's reaction - it was a mixture of carefully guarded hope and suprise, with a reluctance to get too excited. "You will?" she asked hopefully, seemingly suprised that anyone would want to help her. "Of course we will. We'll help you." Nurse Stanway said, comfortingly. She glanced at her watch - she would have been happy to stay with Lisa all night, but she knew that she'd have to leave her alone sooner or later. "Lisa, I'm going to have to go soon," she said, digging her hand into her coat pocket, "but first, there's something I want you to have." She pulled the small, brightly wrapped package and the envelope out of the pocket, and handed them both to the girl. Lisa looked at Nurse Stanway, her face a mixture of confusion and awkwardness. She didn't really know what to do with the things she'd just been given. "Go on, Lisa," Nurse Stanway said encouragingly, "open them." Gingerly, Lisa tore the envelope open. Nurse Stanway looked on in delight as some of the worry in the girl's face melted away as she pulled out the birthday card. "Happy birthday!" she said, proudly. Lisa smiled back at her, happily. It had been a long time since she'd had a genuine reason to smile, and now she couldn't stop herself. She knew that it wasn't very much, but it a lot more than she'd had for years. As she read the card, signed by all the staff Nurse Stanway had been able to get hold of, Lisa could feel the warm glow of joy building up inside her as she read the names of people who'd bothered to acknowledge her. She could feel something else, something that she was well used to - tears welling up, and trickling slowly down her face. But this time, they were tears of happiness. "Thankyou" she beaming. "How did you know?" "I saw your birthday on your medical records, and thought you might need some cheering up." Nurse Stanway said, kindly. "Open the present, Lisa." Eagerly, Lisa tore away at the wrapping paper. She gasped as she held up her gift - a pearl necklace. "It used to be mine.", the nurse explained, "but it's too small now. Do you like it?" "It's... it's beautiful!" Lisa said. "Thankyou so much..." she sobbed happily. The joyous feeling built up, to the point where Lisa felt like it could burst through her chest - it was exilerating, it made her feel more alive than she had for years. Nurse Stanway leant over and hugged her tightly, and Lisa embraced her ecstatically, for what seemed like hours. However long it was, it didn't seem long enough for Lisa, as Nurse Stanway eventually pulled away, smiling. "Well, Lisa, I'd better be going." she said. Lisa didn't really want the nurse to leave her, but in her contentment she understood. "If you need anything - even if you have another bad dream in the night and just want a cuddle - just get one of the other nurses. They all signed your card." Nurse Stanway said, stroking Lisa's hair affectionately. "I'm really glad to see you smiling - you're really pretty." Lisa blushed a little at the compliment. "Thanks." she said, shyly. "For everything." "No problem" said the nurse as she walked towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lisa. Don't worry - everything's going to be fine." Lisa watched in admiration as her saviour left the room - she felt that a few hours had completely changed her life around. In the past, she'd tried to reassure herself that everything would be fine - now, she actually believed it. ------- Jack Fitzgerald wasn't a happy man. He'd sat, patiently enough, in the drunk tank waiting for them to let him out - he'd gone into himself, and even managed to fool himself into thinking that... that girl didn't deserve the treatment he gave her. He'd even ended up feeling sorry for her. But then, someone came and told him they were keeping him in. Someone had found her passed out outside the house, and she'd been taken to hospital. She had been in a bad way, apparently, and they wanted to speak to him about it. They were accusing him of neglect. Him - Jack Fitzgerald. As he prowled inside his cell like a caged animal, looking for something to pounce on, his misery long since replaced by anger, a furious, concentrated rage that Jack had only felt once or twice before - and he knew fully well what he'd done on those occassions. I'll get that little bitch, he thought to himself. I'll make her pay for humiliating me like this - I could even go to jail because of her. She must be laughing at me now, thinking that she's got away from me, but if I'm going down, it might as well be for *something*. Jack bristled with a terrifying fury that made the guards nervous. Despite his rising levels of hatred and sheer anger, he still had a menacing air of calm around him that only made him seem more threatening - he was grimly determined to show his step-daughter just how cruel he could be. ------- Marge was in the middle of clearing away the dinner table when there was a knock on the door. "Homer, could you answer that?" she yelled, but wasn't surpised when he suddenly became hard of hearing. When she opened the door, she was faced with a young woman, wearing what appeared to be a nurse's uniform. She looked pleasant enough, but her body language belied a certain awarkness, as if she wasn't exactly sure that she should be here. "Hello... Mrs Simpson, isn't it?" she asked brightly, if a little nervously. Marge sighed wearyly. "Oh, you must be from the school. I'm sorry about Bart and the itching powder..." "Oh, no." the woman said. "My name's Stephanie Stanway. I'm a nurse at Shelbyville General Hospital. Err, it is okay if I speak to you for a minute? It's... it's quite important." Marge looked puzzled. She didn't *think* she knew anyone in Shelbyville. "Okay." she said. "You'd better come in." Nurse Stanway was led into the living room, where Homer lay slothly on the couch - he quickly jumped up when he saw a strange young woman enter the room. "Homer, this is Stephanie Stanway" Marge said. "She's come here to talk to us." As she sat down, Nurse Stanway could feel them staring at her expectedly. It unnerved her a little - maybe she had been rash coming here. Suddenly, she felt something tugging at her skirt, and was taken aback a little to see a younger version of Lisa smiling up at her. "What's your name?" the toddler asked her. "I'm Stephanie." the nurse replied. "What's your name?" "My name's Maggie." the girl asked, giggling as she tried to climb onto the couch. "She likes you." Marge smiled. Nurse Stanway was grateful to Maggie for breaking the ice - she'd spent the whole journey here trying to work out what to say, but her mind was blank now. She started to regret coming here - maybe she should have waited. Still, she was here now, and she had to go through with it. For Lisa. She cleared her throat, and hesitantly began. "Mr and Mrs Simpson... I know I said that I work for the hospital in Shelbyville, but I've come here as on my own. To be honest, I'm not sure I should have come at all, but I think it's important that I did." she said, nervously. She could see the looks on their faces, and realised that she'd have to get to the point rapidly. "What it is... err, I'm not sure how to tell you all this, but you see... about a week ago, we had a little girl brought in. She's been abused by her stepfather, and she's in a bad way. And, the thing is... well, I think she might be your brother's daughter, Mrs Simpson." Nurse Stanway sat and looked at them both, anxiously. Homer looked more confused than anything, as if he were trying to get to grips with the storyline of a soap opera. Marge looked calm superficially, but a whole gamut of emotions fought one another in her eyes. After an agonising silence, it was her who broke the silence. "Are you sure?" she asked mildly. "Not 100%, Mrs Simpson. It would help if you could do a blood test - if you're related, we'll be able to see. I know the guy who does them, so we could know in a few days." the nurse said, unable to decide whether things were going well or badly. "Ok, I suppose so." Marge said, still retaining her reserve. "How did you find out?" "I... err... pieced it together from the medical records." That wasn't strictly true. At first, Nurse Stanway had wanted to track down Lisa's mother, Susan Fitzgerald, but had drew a blank. She had been discussing the case with one of the ward sisters, and discovered to her amazement that Lisa's mother had worked at the hospital years ago. The nurse, who had something of a reputation for gossiping anyway, had told Stephanie that Susan had been unhappy in her marriage, and had been having a lengthy affair with a jazz musician - she couldn't remember his name, but she was sure it was something French. She'd left the hospital when she got pregnant - just under 12 years ago now. Apparently, she got back with her husband, and the musician was killed a few years later. Nurse Stanway had then used a combination of old newspaper reports and medical records to find her way to the Simpson household. It seemed so ridiculous now, such a longshot, held together by her own hope and, probably, misplaced optimism. She felt so stupid for coming all this way now. Once again, everybody in the room sat in nervous silence, staring unsurely at each other. Finally, the tension got too much, for Homer, and he had to break the deadlock. "So... is there as much blood in real life as there is in ER?" ------- It was quiet now. So very quiet. Part of him even *missed* her. Jack sat himself down, grateful to be back home again. The hearing had went as well as could be expected - he was being charged with willful neglect, amongst other things, but his lawyer had assured him that with his previous good standing in the community, he would likely only get something token. He'd gotten bail with ease, with only one restriction - he couldn't see the girl. That didn't really bother him. As he sat, looking around the house that he had virtually imprisoned her in, his mind was spinning yet again. As part of him missed her, another part of him was disgusted at the way he had treated her - it was something that usually creeped up upon him in moments of introspection. He could see now that there were times when he had gone too far, when his anger overtook his rationality - he deeply regretted those moments of insanity, when he lashed out at her. But all the same, he felt she could have toughened up a little - it was character building. He could have treated her with more care, but that was something she had to earn. Those were the things his father said when he hit Jack. It would build his character. He should earn the love and affection he craved. It would make him into a man. It had made him into a man, too - the only question was, what sort of a man? Jack had been unhappy when she went crying to the authorities, too - that wasn't how the Fitzgeralds done things. He'd had that instilled in him as a child, when his father had climbed into his bed at night, reeking of drink. Families didn't tell on each other, he'd been told. What went on had been their little secret. It was a secret that Jack had even tried to keep from himself for years. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something... a bottle. Getting up, he grabbed it, and flung himself back on the couch, ready to numb his tortured mind once again. ------- She'd been in there for nearly an hour now, thought Doctor Weir. He was beginning to wish that he hadn't agreed to give her a lift to Springfield, now - she was going above and beyond the call of duty, and was it really such a good idea to go bothering someone who may or may not be related to the girl? Eventually, she emerged from the house. She looked quite happy, which was a good sign. The woman who saw her to the door looked a little bewildered, Doctor Weir though - not suprisingly, really. Nurse Stanway climbed into the car. The doctor smiled at her politely but neutrally, trying not to give away any indications of the misgivings he had about the whole situation - she was so obviously enthused with the outcome of the meeting. As the car drove off, she eagerly told Doctor Weir about what had happened. "They seem really nice" she said brightly. "...and they've got two kids already. They'd be the perfect family for her." Doctor Weir listened intently to her articulate her hopes for the girl's future, until he felt he had to say something about her increasing zealousness. "Stephanie" he began, cautiously, "look, don't take this the wrong way, but don't you think you're taking this a bit too far?". He didn't look at her - he felt that he had to say this, and he didn't want to be sidetracked. "I mean, this Lisa's a lovely kid, and I'd love to see her happy, but I do think that you're sorta turning this into... well... a bit of a personal crusade." There. He'd said it. Silence reigned uneasily in the car for a few moments. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stephanie glancing at him for a moment, and then quickly turning her head to stare out of the window. She let out an exasperated sigh, filled with the frustration of somebody who was willing to justify themselves, but didn't really see the need, or point, to have to. "Dave, you know what happened to me when I was a kid, don't you? I don't have to explain what I went through, do I?" she said. Her voice wasn't angry - it was fairly neutral, but it had a streak of steely resolve and an edge of pain. "And you know, when you grow up, the worst thing about it is that you know that it's happenening to somebody else, so I'm not going to just sit back when I can help someone." "But you can't do all this for all your patients, can you?" he asked. "I will if I have to." Doctor Weir shook his head. He knew what she was doing was a good thing, and he had no real complaints about her intentions. "Don't you think it's a bit, err, dangerous? I mean, those people might not have anything to do with Lisa, but you've dragged them into it now. And what if Lisa gets her hopes up when she hears about all this? It'd be unfair to hurt her any more, y'know." "Don't you think I know that?" she snapped. She'd invested so much emotional energy into this little girl in the past few weeks that she couldn't help feel that Doctor Weir was attacking her personally. Doctor Weir sighed. "I'm not trying to offend you by saying all this, it's just that I think you're a little too attached. Isn't this more of a social services thing?" "Yeah, they're a lot of use, aren't they?" Nurse Stanway said cynically. "You know they'll put her in one of those homes." "Well, what's wrong with that?" Nurse Stanway explained quietly and hesitantly, as if she was resurrecting memories she'd buried deep within herself. "You've seen what she's like on the ward - she doesn't say two words to anyone, and she gets scared anytime anyone comes near her. She needs a lot of attention, and she won't get it in a home. Trust me, she wouldn't last two minutes in one of those places." The doctor tried to get a word in edgeways, but she quickly continued while she was in mid-flow. "And then what? She hasn't got anyone. She'll get kicked out when she's 16, and then God knows what'll happen to her. I can't just sit back and watch that happen!" He didn't really want to admit defeat, but he could see her point - he could imagine just how those homes were. It was obvious that Nurse Stanway had had some bad experiences with them, too - the pain in her voice, a pain that she had repressed in the past almost to the point were she thought she was actually free of it, was tangible, as was the passion with which she argued for Lisa. It was then that he realised that she would get her way, and find Lisa a new home - she was so persuasive, anybody who got in her way didn't stand a chance. ------- Marge sat, staring at the envelope. She knew exactly what it was - "SHELBYVILLE GENERAL HOSPITAL" was stamped authoritively on it. She was desperate to tear it open, to see once and for all, but she wanted to wait until Homer got home. She had barely slept over the past week - did she really have a niece that she knew nothing about? It wouldn't have suprised her - it was the sort of thing that Sean did a lot. That was partly the reason why she'd not spoken to him for years now. Since he'd... departed, Marge had regretted falling out with her little brother. There wasn't a day that went by in which she didn't wish that she could have forseen what would happen without warning... Nurse Stanway had given Marge a picture of the girl... Lisa, her name was. She didn't want to get carried away with herself before she saw the results for certain, but Marge could see a definite resemblence - the girl definitely looked like a Bouvier. Marge pulled the photograph out, and fixed her eyes on it again. Nurse Stanway had taken it as she laid asleep in bed - she looked so peaceful, thought Marge - there weren't any hints of what sort of life she'd been forced to live. Marge had listened in horror to the nurse as she told her what sort of thing Lisa had been put through - as she began to grow more and more irrationably attached to the girl, she began to find that those tales began to invade her dreams. She knew that she would very possibly end up regretting it, but Marge was growed more and more emotionally involved with little Lisa. She'd already spoken to Homer in great detail about the girl. At first, he hadn't been to sure about what they should do, but Marge had worked on him, and convinced him that if Lisa was related to them, they should give her a home. They had wanted to try for another baby at some point in the future, anyway, and Marge didn't see the point of bringing another child into the world, when there was already a living, breathing one who desperately needed parents. (As long as they could still go through the motions of trying for a baby, Homer was reasonably happy) They still had that money that Sean had left them in his will, too, so being able to afford another mouth to feed wasn't really a problem. And, thought Marge, this was the best way to finally do something for her brother - even if she couldn't help him anymore, she could certainly help his daughter. That was assuming she was his daughter... It hadn't been an easy few days since they'd first found out about Lisa - in fact, it had been one of the most intensely soul-searching periods Marge had known in her life. It had certainly not been an easy decision to make, especially since it was clouded by emotion that she didn't really think she should have been feeling. Now, would all of that mental exertion go to waste? The answer lay inside the envelope in front of her. It was agonising. Finally, Marge heard a key in the door! Homer! They would know soon enough, now. She'd had enough time to ponder the potential consequences of what lay in this letter, and the full enormity of it was crashing down upon her now... Homer walked out into the kitchen, loudly telling anyone who was around to hear about what Lenny was supposed to have done with a doughnut at lunchtime. When he saw his wife sat at the kitchen table, he stopped dead in his tracks. "Are they the results, honey?" he asked. She nodded silently. "I've been waiting for you so we could open them together." she said, softly. Homer put his hand on his wife's shoulder, and watched anxiously as she opened the envelope and pulled the letter out. After a pregnant pause, Marge handed the sheet of paper to him. "I can't read it." she said. "I'm too nervous." Homer took the letter off her, and started to read it out loud. "Dear Mrs Simpson, yadda yadda, blood test results... what does "conclusive" mean?" Marge snatched the letter back, and quickly scanned through it. "It means" she said, happily, "that we should tell Bart and Maggie about their new cousin." ------- Lisa sat nervously on her bed - she couldn't believe that she was leaving hospital today. She'd been in for nearly a month now, and in that short time she'd already grown attached to it. All the nurses were so... *nice* to her. Not one of them had done as much as raised their voice to her since she'd been a patient, and not only did they not seem to hate her, some of them actually seemed to... like her. That in itself was a liberating experience for Lisa. Now, it might be over. But things weren't so bad, really - after all, Nurse Stanway had managed to find her real father's family. She was amazing, thought Lisa... she hadn't even *known* who her real dad was, but the nurse had still managed to find his relatives. They seemed nice, too - she was going to stay with them, and they had even brought her the clothes she was wearing now. But Lisa was still worried - the nurses, and her newly discovered family, only really saw her occasionally - they hadn't got time to really get to know her. It had taken Jack years to find out just what a bad person she was, and she was worried that it'd take the Simpsons nearly as long. She felt ashamed even admitting it to herself, but she couldn't bare to go through that again... Nurse Stanway came over to her, and noting the concerned look on the girl's face, smiled warmly. "Hey, it's your big day today, isn't it Lisa?" Lisa looked up at the kindly nurse sadly. She was probably the only person she really felt she could trust or confide in, and she was leaving her life now. Lisa had felt torn up about this moment for some time now - as she thought it would, the emotion overcame her, and she could feel herself beginning to cry - something she hadn't done for weeks. "Oh, Lisa, what's wrong?" asked the nurse, as she squatted down to look at the sobbing girl face to face. Lisa was reluctant to tell her - she was embarrased. "I... I don't want to leave." she said, sadly. "I'll miss you. No-one's ever been so nice to me before. You're... you're the only friend I've got!" Nurse Stanway took Lisa in her arms, and hugged her tightly. "Oh, Lisa," she said, comfortingly "You're going to make lots of friends!" The nurse pulled a pen and a scrap of paper out of her pocket. "Here," she said, "this is my phone number. If you ever want to talk to me, Lisa, just give me a call." Lisa took the piece of paper off her, and smiled weakly through her tears. "Thankyou" she said, quietly. The nurse put her arm on Lisa's shoulder. She was going to miss her as well - it was times like this that Nurse Stanway was grateful to be able to fake detachment in front of patients. It was a shame to see this little girl leave her life, but the nurse was overjoyed that she had found a decent home. "Are you looking forward to going home with them, Lisa?" she asked. Lisa looked up at her with concern in her eyes. Nurse Stanway looked back into them intently. You could learn an awful lot from somebody's eyes, she'd always been taught. She remembered the emptyness and the burnt-out despair that had filled them when Lisa had first been admitted to hospital, and she could see that the girl had come a long way since then. There was still an awful lot of work to be done, though - they were still filled with mournful pain and fear, even if there was now the faintest glimmer of hope in there. "What if they don't like me?" Lisa asked, worried. It was something that had kept her awake for days now. "Of course they'll like you, Lisa." Nurse Stanway said comfortingly. "I bet they'll *love* you." That wasn't the only thing bothering her, thought Nurse Stanway. She'd always prided herself on being able to read people, and she could tell that there was still something worrying Lisa. "You're worried about your dad, aren't you?" she guessed. Lisa nodded. She'd been told about the situation with Jack before, and how he was being tried for neglect and abuse. She was torn - part of her still felt guilty about causing so much trouble for him and another part wanted vengance for everything the bastard had put her through. But mostly, the most overriding emotion was that of sheer terror. "He won't be happy with me, you know. What if he comes after me?" she asked, fearfully. Nurse Stanway put her hand on Lisa's shoulder. "He's not allowed to go anywhere near you - if he does, they'll put him straight in jail. You don't have to worry, Lisa - you'll never have to see him again!" She could see that Lisa wasn't really satisfied by this answer. "What about in court?" Lisa sobbed. Nurse Stanway sighed. According to the policeman who had spoken to Lisa, it was likely that the girl would have to testify against Jack if there was to be any hope of a conviction, and the nurse knew how hard that would be for Lisa - as if the court wasn't intimidating enough, Lisa would be brought face to face with her abuser. Nurse Stanway definitely knew that she wouldn't want to have to face her own father again like that... "Oh, Lisa, I'm sorry you have to go through all of this. You don't deserve it..." she said, tears welling up in her face as her professional facade crumbled. "Daddy always said I did..." Nurse Stanway hugged the girl as tightly as she could, as she tried to regain her composure. "Lisa, if you don't want to face him, don't. Don't let anyone pressure you into anything you don't want to do, ok?" she sniffed. Again, Lisa nodded her agreement. "And Lisa, take care of yourself. You're wonderful, and you deserve to be happy - don't let anyone tell you any different." "Okay" Lisa said quietly, smiling as she did. The nurse beamed back at her, and ruffled her hair. She was going to miss that smile. As they collected together Lisa's meagre possessions, Nurse Stanway's pager beeped noisily - the girl watched as she read the message. "Well, Lisa," she sighed, "this is it. They're here." Lisa pulled something from under the pillow of the bed. "This is for you." she said, nervously, "And everyone else. You've all been so nice to me." Nurse Stanway took it from Lisa - it was a homemade card, little more than a sheet of paper folded in two and brightly decorated - it showed a suprisingly well-drawn picture of a kindly doctor and nurse. Inside, Lisa had written her thanks. "I know it's not much, but I wanted to do something..." The nurse smiled, moved by the loving innocence of the gesture. "Lisa, it's perfect." she said. She could see from the delighted expression on Lisa's face that the girl wasn't praised or encouraged very often at all. "Come on, let's get you downstairs." And, taking her hand, Nurse Stanway led Lisa down to her new life. ------- Lisa peered nervously out of the car window and into the darkness of the night, taking in one last, good look at the town in which she'd lived for all of her young life. Places she had once known so well passed by her, for probably the last time - she felt no real emotion as she left Shelyville behind. That chapter of her life was over now. Turning away from her past, Lisa looked at her future - Uncle Homer and Aunt Marge. They were related to her father apparently, her *real* father. It was funny - she didn't even know who he was, but Nurse Stanway had managed to find his sister. Anxiously, Lisa fiddled with the necklace that she'd been given for her birthday - it was the first gift she'd recieved in a long, long time, a reminder of the kindness that she'd experienced so rarely. Marge turned around, and smiled at her niece. "Are you okay back there, Lisa?" she asked. "I've told Bart and Maggie all about you. They can't wait to meet you!" That was something, thought Lisa - she had two cousins that she'd never even met. What would they feel about her? Lisa was worried about how to act once she had arrived at her new home - she didn't want to do anything wrong and upset anyone too soon. She wanted to stay there as long as she could - Marge and Homer seemed nice enough, and they didn't seem to want to hurt her. But then, Jack had been like that for years... Noticing that they were now out of the town centre, Lisa looked out of the window as Shelybville gradually thinned. Her heavy heart lifted a little as she saw the house that she'd shared with both her parents in happier times glide by. While most of Shelbyville was stained with the bitter memories of more recent experiences, that house set alone in the rolling hills around the town still shone with the reflected purity of her innocent youth. She was slightly disappointed that she wouldn't be able to return there, just yet, but for the moment, Lisa was more concerned with what was to come than what had been. The remainder of the journey continued in silence. Marge stared languidly out of the car window, lost in deep thought. Her strong maternal instinct had been aroused as soon as she had learnt of the existence of Lisa, and once she'd heard the harrowing stories of the abuse that the girl had suffered, it was too much for her to resist. Now, the girl was part of the family. In the cold light of day, she was beginning to realise exactly what that would bring - it certainly wouldn't be an easy ride. Still, it was something that Marge was determined to see out. Though she'd been spared the specifics of the terrible things that Lisa had experienced, it had still been a terrible shock for her to discover what sort of cruelty could be unleashed on an innocent child. But if there was anything that Marge held dear about herself, it was that she was a loving mother. She was eager to be that to Lisa. For his part, Homer felt sorry for Lisa, too. He didn't quite share his wife's enthusiasm for inviting the girl into their home, but she seemed like a nice enough kid (if only the boy was as well behaved...), and he could see how much caring for her brother's child meant to Marge. As he drove back home to Springfield however, he felt a certain sense of awkwardness. He hoped that he wouldn't be called upon to provide too much moral or emotional support to Lisa - that was something he had never felt exactly comfortable with when dealing with his own children, and usually left to Marge. He was also wondering whether or not Bart had remembered to video the women's volleyball on Fox. It was quite late by the time they reached Springfield. In the tranquil silence, Lisa had begun to slowly drift into semi-conciousness, watching the dark countryside roll past her window. She was abruptly brought back into reality when the car shuddered to a halt, and Marge turned to gently shake her. "Here we are, Lisa." she smiled, brightly. "This is your new home!" Bleary eyed, Lisa got out of the car and stared at the house nervously. She was scared - it was real now. In the safety of her hospital bed, Lisa had allowed herself to speculate about how the Simpson house would be - she'd played out this scene dozens of times in her head. Now, she felt insecure and vunerable - this was really happening, and she didn't have Nurse Stanway or anyone else to come and tell her everything would be all right. It seemed like such a bad idea now. Living with Jack, she had at least known what to expect on a daily basis, but now the unknown lay ahead - as worried as Lisa was, she was also hopeful about her new family, and she knew just how dangerous hope could be, after all those lonely nights crying and hoping that her mother would come back for her... she never did. But although the shame of being abandoned still burned somewhere deep inside her, it didn't seem to matter quite as much now. This was her big chance! What if she said something wrong? What if she did something wrong? Would they hurt her, would they throw her out, or would they do something even worse? She'd dreamt about this moment for so long now, she was terrified of wasting it. What would she do if they didn't like her? She couldn't bare it if they turned on her like Jack did. Lisa could feel herself starting to panick. Her stomach was churning as the endless thoughts and fears that she had turned over in her mind so many times began to spiral down upon her. She nearly jumped as she felt someone take her hand. Anxiously, she looked up and saw Marge smiling down at her, kindly. "Come on, honey." she said, and led her inside. The first thing that struck Lisa once she got inside the house was how similar it was to her own house... her *old* house... it was. She could feel the warmth as soon as she stepped inside, and the comforting smell of something being cooked - Lisa could feel the familiar pangs of hunger fighting with the butterflies inside her stomach, and allowed herself to hope for a minute that she'd be allowed some of whatever it was that was being made. Standing to attention, she waited as Homer shouted Bart and Maggie. Lisa knew just how nervous she was around other children - the daily torment that she had suffered at school had at times been just as painful as Jack's beatings. Over recent weeks she had slowly began to regain some of her old trust for adults, but she was still wary of those her own age - she couldn't remember the last time any of her classmates had been anything near civil to her, and bitter memories of being taunted regularly by those she had once considered her friends played through her mind. She knew that this would be the hardest part of coming to live with the Simpsons. If she could get through meeting their kids without making them hate her, she would be okay... After a second or two, Bart and Maggie emerged from the front room. "This is Lisa, your cousin." Marge said, brightly. "Hi." Lisa mumbled apologetically, and waited anxiously for their response. Giggling manically, Maggie waddled over to Lisa, and threw her arms around her. "My name's Maggie!" she said, loudly and clumsily. Smiling, and geniunely moved by her enthusiasm, Lisa embraced the toddler, before quickly looking over to see how Bart reacted. "Hey." Bart said, coldly. "I'm Bart." Lisa could feel her heart sink a little at his lukewarm welcome. She was reminded of when a teacher would happen to chance upon someone bullying her in school - they would force an apology out of the bully, normally, but in that same neutral tone of voice that meant that once the teacher's back was turned again, the reprisals would be even worse for her. That was the last thing Lisa wanted now. Like a child with a new toy, Marge again took Lisa's hand, and decided to show her around the house. Lisa could see how houseproud her aunt was - she explained everything and anything about her home to the girl. As the rest of the family followed them around the house, more in curiosity than anything else, Lisa kept her eyes firmly on Bart. Eventually, after a tour of the upstairs, Marge led Lisa to a door at the end of the corridor. "And this is your room, Lisa..." she said, swinging open the door. Lisa glanced into the room in amazement. It hadn't really occured to her where she would sleep, but she was suprised to see that they had given her a room. Her very own. There wasn't very much in it at the moment, save for the bed and a few empty shelves, but it was hers. Turning around, she hugged Marge gratefully. "Thank you" she said with tears in her eyes. Marge brushed her cheek. "Oh, it was nothing, honey. It was just the spare room." "I know, but it's so nice of you to..." Lisa sobbed joyfully, but was unable to continue as she buried her face into Marge's midriff. She still couldn't believe all of this was happening to her, after years of hoping for salvation - first Nurse Stanway, now this. "You're welcome." Marge said, happily. Lisa looked at the rest of her new family, standing unsurely behind Marge. Maggie seemed ecstatic to suddenly have a new sister, while even Bart didn't seem as distant as he had just a moment ago. Homer was beaming with satisfaction, his original concerns melting away - it was obvious that he too was moved by the sight. He quickly regained his normal composure when the smell of dinner began to waft upstairs. "Marge, the dinner's ready." he said, kindly and unusually softly. "Come on - less weeping, more eating." ------- A while later, the family sat down to eat. Despite her feelings of awkwardness, Lisa had a sense of pride as she sat with the family - it felt good to be accepted by them. The only thing that worried her was Bart, though she wasn't exactly sure of what it was that unsettled her so much. He seemed so distant, so cold... She could sense that no-one at the table seemed exactly comfortable, either. They tried to involve her in the conversation, but it wasn't easy. Lisa didn't want to worry too much about any of that just yet, though - she was just happy to sit there with them, feeling for once that someone actually wanted her. It was pouring with rain outside, and Lisa knew just how cold it would have been in Jack's house. (assuming, of course, that he wouldn't have made her sleep outside) Here in the warmth, Lisa felt as safe and secure as she had done for years. When the family had finished, Marge got up to take their plates. Lisa felt like she should be doing something as she watched. "Do you want me to help you, Mrs Simpson?" she asked. Marge smiled. "Lisa, you don't have to call me Mrs Simpson... my name's Marge. And if you really want to help, you can come and get the deserts from the kitchen with me. That's very nice of you to offer." Lisa climbed down from her chair and went with Marge. When they came back into the dining room with the ice-cream, Bart was gone. "He said he had to go and do... something." Homer explained in between mouthfuls. "Mmmm... it's not like Bart to skip desert." Marge mused. She looked over at the two girls - Maggie was getting more ice-cream over herself than in her mouth, as usual, but Lisa didn't seem to have any appetite as she stared glumly into the bowl. "Lisa, what's wrong? Don't you like it?" Marge asked. "No, I really like it, thanks." Lisa said brightly. "It's just... well, the last time I had ice-cream, it was when my mom took me out for it, the night before she left. That was the last time I ever saw her..." she tailed off, quietly. Marge sighed. She didn't really know the whole story about what had happened with Lisa's parents, but she had found it strange that her mother had just disappeared. How could anyone do that to their own child? As if abandoning her wasn't bad enough, to leave her alone with that moster... Marge leaned over the table and took Lisa's hand to try to comfort her a little. "Oh honey, you must really miss her." she said. Lisa stared sadly into Marge's eyes - she hadn't known this woman for long, really, but something told Lisa that she could trust her. "I do." she said, "Why do you think she hates me, Marge?" "Oh, Lisa, she doesn't hate you!" Marge said quickly, her heart being wrenched by hearing the girl talk like that. She wanted to tell her exactly what she thought of her mother, but she kept it to herself. "Then why did she leave me?" Lisa asked. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes already. She'd promised herself she wouldn't cry in front of them - she didn't want them to think she was a baby... Marge got up, and warmly took Lisa in her arms. "I don't know, Lisa." she said softly. "It's okay, though, you've got us now." As Homer led Maggie into the TV room to give them some space, thoughtfully leaving the dirty plates for Marge to clean up alone, Lisa smiled gratefully. "You're all being so kind to me. I don't know how to repay you..." "Lisa, you don't have to pay us back. We're your family and we love you." Marge smiled. WE'RE YOUR FAMILY AND WE LOVE YOU. Lisa cherised those words and what they meant. Part of her was still reluctant to believe them, but they filled her with warmth all the same. "Marge?" Lisa asked. "What was my dad like?" Marge sighed hesitatly. The nurse had told Lisa a little about her father, but Marge knew that she would eventually have to tell her more. It had been a tough enough day as it was though, and Marge didn't feel like dragging up too many painful memories now. Besides, she knew that being totally honest, which she wanted to be, about the stuff that Sean had gotten up to wasn't exactly suitable for a girl of Lisa's age. "Well..." Marge said, wanting to tell Lisa something. Something positive, if she could. "He was... err... well, he was a musician. A very good one." "He was?" Lisa said enthusiastically, her eyes lightening up. "I played the saxophone! Well, until my dad... err, Jack, took it away." Marge stroked Lisa's hair quietly. What else had that bastard done to her? Glancing at her watch, she noticed that it was getting quite late - time to put Maggie to bed. She had to call Principal Skinner in the morning to make sure that Lisa would be going to Springfield Elementary. There was no real rush to get her into school, Marge though, but maybe it would help Lisa focus on something other than Jack Fitzgerald, especially if she had the chance to meet some kids her age. "Lisa, do you want to go upstairs and get changed for bed? I bought you a nightgown - it's under your pillow." Bart sat at the top of the stairs as he watched Lisa coming out of the dining room. He didn't take his eyes off her as she walked up to her bedroom. She looked away from him, intimidated by his unwavering stair. He didn't really have anything against her, in particular, but she was in HIS house, and he wanted her to know that. He did resent her a little - the family had been fine up until a few weeks ago, but ever since his mom had found out about her all she had been worried about was Lisa. He hadn't been very pleased by the prospect of having his cousin move in permanently, either - it felt like an infringement on the family, like having some complete stranger interfere in their business. Competitive and terratorial instincts were coming to the fore in Bart's still-blossoming manhood. Still, she would be good bait for him. Fresh blood - someone whose world hasn't been Barted yet... Bart grinned evilly at Lisa as she walked towards her bedroom door. She could feel his stare boring into her - try as she might, she couldn't ignore him. She was grateful to get into her new room. That was, until she felt it come down on her... Still sitting patiently, Bart smiled as he heard her scream in shock. It had worked perfectly. ------- Marge raced upstairs as soon as she heard that scream, that terrible, bloody curdling scream. It had only been a few seconds since she'd been speaking to Lisa - what could have possibly happened in that time? When she got to the top of the stairs, she saw Bart standing outside Lisa's room. Brushing past him, she saw Lisa sat on the floor, soaking wet, and sobbing. As she stared up at both of them, Lisa could feel a dull sensation of horror replacing the sharper feeling of shock inside her. She'd thought she could trust the Simpsons, she really had. She had set herself up for a fall, and now she was paying for the faith she had put into it - she was a fool to think that anyone would actually want to care for her. It wasn't so much the trick that she'd had played on her - she was used to cold water from Jack's daily hosings, and even the cut that the heavy metal bucket had left above her eye didn't bother her too much. It was the way that they had managed to convince her that they were different from Jack. Once again, she felt lonely, and scared, but now she felt humiliated, foolish, and disappointed. So very disappoitned. Lisa stared up at Bart as she struggled to her feet. "I'm sorry!" she said, desperately apologising for whatever it was she had done this time in the hope that it would stop him from doing anything more to her. "I know you didn't want me to come here." As fear and grief took hold of her, she was becoming increasingly hysterical. "I... I'll go! I promise! Is that what you want? Just... please... don't hurt me any more!" Quickly, Marge tried to calm her down. Bart looked on dumbstruck as his mother swept past him and took Lisa in her arms. Angrily, she shouted at him. "Bart, is that any way to treat your cousin! I'm ashamed of you!" Normally, Bart could handle his mother - he was an expert in using her strong maternal instincts to his advantage. But this time, he fled to the safety of his own room while Marge comforted and reassured Lisa. Lying on his bed, Bart could hear her crying in the next room. This was something he wasn't used to - every sob cut through him like a blade, and his stomach tightened every time he thought of her, laid out on the floor, blood mingling with the water. He'd played a lot of tricks on people, with differing levels of cruelty, but this was the first time he'd ever felt anything like this bad. This, he pondered, must be remorse. He hadn't really wanted to hurt her, or make her that unhappy - there was no real malice behind the plan. He had just wanted to have some fun at her expense. But the way she reacted had made him seriously question how much fun his practical jokes where - he was haunted by the look on her face, a mixture of fear, agony and sheer despair. His mother had mentioned something to him in passing about what Lisa had been through, but he hadn't really payed any attention to it. Seeing her react in that way made Bart realise that maybe she had suffered as much as he'd been led to believe. For the first time, he was beginning to understand the consequences of his "harmless jokes" from the victim's perspective. And he didn't like the feeling - he knew he'd be punished for this, but he had no complaints - he deserved it. In the morning, once Lisa had calmed down a little, he would apologise to her. And for the first time, he would mean it. ------- Eventually, Marge managed to convince Lisa that Bart's actions had been mischeivous rather than malicious, and that she was safe. Seeing how terrified and upset Lisa was made Marge realise just what the extent of the mental damage she had suffered was. Silently, she sat and watched lovingly over Lisa as she gradually fell into sleep. She was so peaceful when she was asleep - it was a shame that the demons of her past wouldn't afford her the same peace when she was awake. Marge could bet that her dreams weren't so tranquil , either. And she was right. It was the same old nightmare - it was no less frightening, though. Lisa dreamt that she was walking hand in hand with her mother on a bright summer's day. They were in the garden at her first home, surrounded by colourful, fragent flours and lush trees. Without warning, the scene started to change - the grip on her hand became tighter and tighter until it hurt her, and when Lisa looked up, she saw Jack starting down at her, evilly. Suddenly, the temperature dropped as she realised that she was now in a dark, dense forest, the long-dead trees mangled by the harsh weather into ugly, wailing harbingers of death. The last thing Lisa ever remembered was the dizzying horror of being chased by Jack. Then she woke up... Lisa sat bolt upright in bed, shaking. It always took her a few seconds to realise where she was, more so in such a strange place. As she became atuned to reality again, she tried to work out whether or not she had screamed. When the nightmares first starting coming, Lisa had cried out in terror when she finally manged to fight her way out of them. Jack didn't appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night, and that was something that she had managed to stop doing, out of the instinct to survive more than anything else. Despite the occasional, and painful if he was anywhere near, lapse of composure, like at the hospital, she usually reacted to the nightmares with quiet despair now. Still afraid in the darkness, Lisa sat motionless for about a minute, before climbing out of bed. She was dripping in clammy sweat, and usually found that some fresh air helped calm her. Opening her bedroom window with difficulty, she began to realise that it wasn't sweat. Turning on her bedside lamp, Lisa pulled the blankets from her bed. The matress was soaked through. Lisa recalled the time she peed in front of the mirror in front of Jack, and could feel the same shame over what she had done, and the same fear of what was going to happen to her. Beginning to panick, Lisa looked at the digital clock next to her bed. (Why did they have to buy me all these things? Lisa thought. She didn't deserve them, not if she acted like this...) It had just passed midnight - hopefully, everyone would be in bed. Desperately, she tried to think of a way to hide what she'd done, so that they wouldn't need to punish her. After a few moments of frantically rejecting ideas, she eventually gave up, and sat on the wet bed, crying softly. Meanwhile, Homer was climbing the stairs. He'd stayed up late watching Mexican sitcoms, and was ready to go to bed. As he passed Lisa's room, he could hear the sound of her tears. After a moment's hesitation, unsure about whether or not he should interfere, he gently knocked on the door and went in. Lisa looked up slowly and sadly when she heard the door creak softly open, and her heart sank even further when she saw Homer in the doorway. This was it, now. She had no complaints about what she was sure she was about to receive - she deserved it, no question, for what she'd done. In the past, she might have frantically protested her innocence, but she was resigned to her fate now. She knew it was better to just take her punishment and get it over with. Homer looked at her, sat on her wet, stripped bed. She was a pitiful sight - her tears glistened in the pale moonlight as she stared back at him dolefully, shaking with fear. Homer had been quite indifferent towards Lisa before now, but he couldn't leave her now. Sitting down next to her on the bed, careful to avoid the wet patch, he put his arm around her in as lovingly as he could. "Lisa" he said, "What's wrong?" Lisa let out a tearful sigh. Homer's attempt at showing affection made her nervous - was it a trick? Silently, she wished that Marge could be here now. Or nurse Stanway. "I... I had a bad dream," she stammered quietly, "and when I woke up I'd done... that. It was an accident, I promise! You're not going to hit me, are you?" "Oh, Lisa, I'd never do anything like that!" Homer said, holding her close to him, riled a little by the suggestion that he'd do anything like that. He knew he could lose his temper sometimes with the boy, but he could never do anything like that. "It's okay, honey. Everyone wets the bed from time to time - Bart did." Lisa looked up at him, her face brightening a little. "He did?" she sniffed. "Oh, yeah, all the time. We had to get him special rubber pants." Homer said. It was all lies, but they made Lisa happy. He just hoped that she wouldn't mention anything to Bart about this. "Lisa, don't think that anybody is going to hurt you if you wet the bed. I know I'm not as good as your auntie Marge at all of this, but... well... we all care about you, and no-one is going to hurt you here, okay?" There, he'd said it - that was his attempt at good parenting. She was smiling again, at least, and he hadn't even had to fetch Marge. All the same, Lisa and her bed were still dripping wet - he knew something had to done. A few minutes later, Lisa found herself lying in between Marge and Homer, in their bed. It brought back pleasant memories for her - she would often climb into her parents' bed when she was young, to sleep between them. It had been a long, long time since she'd felt so peaceful, warm, and tranquil. As she drifted off into sleep, she was happy just to try to take in as much of the quiet darkness as she could - the truth was, she never wanted this moment to end. Here, she was safe - not even Jack could get to her here. ------- Lisa wasn't the only person who was tormented by a bad dream that night - Jack was visited by a nightmare too. He could see the girl again, her face etched with sheer terror as she held out her hand for him, and hear that scream that always shattered his soul, the one that sounded like it had come from the very bowels of Hell. Then, her face again - the fear was gone now, but so was the brightness in her eyes, replaced now by the horrific blankness of death... Dragged back into conciousness, Jack could feel himself shaking, in anger more than anything. Over the years, the emotions that the accident had provoked inside him had begun to turn perverted inside him - grief, shock and guilt had all slowly turned to rage, that most basic of human emotions. After the accident, he had been a mess physically and emotionally. He had been offered counselling to help him cope, but he had turned it down - not only did he have those antiquated notions of what a man, a real man, should do and feel, but he also knew that there was a danger that some do-gooder would try to dig too deep, and uncover the other demons lurking within Jack's battered psyche. As he lay in bed, one stark thing struck Jack - he was alone. The wife and daughter that he had worked so hard to provide for had both left him. So had his job. And try as he might, he knew that he couldn't avoid the truth - he had driven all of them away. He hadn't been forced out of the fire service because he was unable to work after the accident, his reliance on drink had done that. And he knew that his uncontrolable moods had seen both mother and child leave him. All he had left of his family were pictures. He had one by his bedside - they all looked so happy in it. Jack picked it up, and stared at it. He couldn't help wonder where Lisa was now, and how she was doing. It wasn't really something he did often - he didn't really have any feelings in particular about her now. She was just a kid, not even his, who he might have not have treated fairly in the past. Nothing more. When she had first been taken away, he had felt guilty about what he'd done, but not now - his own father hadn't treated him with much love or respect, so why should he be stupid enough to act like that towards someone else's child? That was something that he had pondered a lot. He had heard other people who had been abused as children saying that they didn't want anyone else to experience their pain. He'd never quite understood that - he'd been through some things, but they hadn't killed him, and he'd turned out quite well, at least in his own mind. Why should he spare anyone that? Putting the picture down, Jack staggered out of bed to find something to numb his now racing mind. Downstairs, he found a bottle of whiskey - that would ease the pain. And it would never desert him, either. ------- "Alto or tenor?" "I... I dunno. She never said." "Well... if she was only eight when she played, I *think* it would most probably be a tenor saxophone." The man sighed as he pointed high up at various instruments Bart knew nothing about on the far wall. "The only one we've got is right up there. I'll have to go and get my stepladder..." As he went resentfully to get the saxophone, Marge put her hand on Bart's shoulder. "$350 is a lot of money, Bart. Are you really sure?" Bart smiled at his mother - he knew that, for once, he was making her proud. For months now, he had been wondering how to spend the compensation he had been given after an unpleasant experience with a breakfast cereal. Marge had disapproved of most of his suggestions about what to do with the windfall, but this was different. "I want to show Lisa how sorry I am about the whole bucket thing, and I figure this'll cheer her up too." Marge smiled back. "Besides, if she gets real good and becomes a famous musician, I can borrow money from her." he added with a hint of mischief. The assistant returned with the saxophone, and handed it to his customer. Bart tried for a moment to size it up, to look like he knew what he was doing, but he quickly gave up the pretence. It would be up to Lisa now to decide how good it was. "I'll take it." ------ Marge stood over Lisa as she slept - she looked so at peace. Mornings in the Simpson household were always frantic so frantic, and it seemed a shame to have to wake her up. But she had to - today was a big day. It was Lisa's first back in school. "Lisa... Lisa... time to wake up! C'mon, you don't want to be late on your first day, do you?" Lisa groaned as she stirred. Marge had let her sleep until whenever she wanted before now, so it took a few minutes for her to get used to being woken up again. The truth was, she didn't want to be late for school at all. In fact, she didn't want to go. "Hurry up and get dressed, honey. I'll make you some waffles." Marge said, as she swept out of the room to try and stop Homer and Bart killing themselves over the last of the Krusty-Os. Slowly, Lisa climbed out of bed, still bleary-eyed. She hadn't slept well - if she was being honest with herself, she was terrified of going back to school. Gradually, she had learnt to trust adults - Nurse Stanway, who she had already written pages to, Marge, and Homer - but this would be different. She'd be all alone with 30 of her peers, and she knew just how cruel children could be. Of course, Maggie and Bart were different. Maggie was still just a baby, full of love and energy - she liked everyone and everything. Still, it was nice to have her around. And as for Bart... Lisa smiled as she looked at the saxophone propped up in the corner of her room. She had always loved music, and having it taken away by Jack was one of the worst things that Lisa had experienced. The joy when Bart gave her her very own sax again was unlike anything she had ever felt - it was as if her heart was ready to burst out of her chest. And after she'd been so frightened of him, too... Quickly, Lisa put those thoughts out of her head. She had always felt vunerable in school if she ever allowed herself to think about anything she loved - if anyone happened to say or do anything hurtful to her, which they did often, it just made her feel even worse. Over time, she had learnt the survival trait of putting up a mental wall between the bullies and the things she kept dear - it had been the only way she had managed to cope with school *and* Jack before, and now she instinctively adopted it again. But what if they liked her? What if she made friends? Maybe Jack HAD been wrong when he said that she was worthless, after all. No, she couldn't let herself think like that. Hope only ever made her set herself up for an even more painful fall - she had learnt that much. She'd been fortunate enough with the Simpsons, but she didn't think that she could be as lucky with her new school. It was better not to expect anything. Besides, she didn't want to leave Marge. Lisa had become close to her aunt over the few weeks that she had lived here - Marge had quickly become the mother that she so desperately wished for. They'd done a lot of things together, typical mother and daughter things that most people would take for granted - to Lisa, they were the things that made life worth living. She had even began to *love* her - the abuse that she had suffered had hardened her heart, something that had happened out of necessity more than anything else, but the warm glow of Marge's kindness had thawed the cold in her soul. Having been inseperable, Lisa was terrified of being without her. Still, at least she would have Bart looking out for her. Once dressed, Lisa sat at the top of the stairs with her sax, listening intently to the chaos unfolding downstairs. Gently, she blew a few notes - she was still finding it hard to play, but she persisted - she knew she couldn't expect it all to come back to her after a few weeks. After all, it had been about three years since Jack had taken her old instrument away. And of course, Lisa knew now that musical ability ran in the family. "Lisa! Come and get your breakfast!" shouted Marge, the stress in her voice apparent. After carefully putting the sax back in her room, Lisa walked slowly down the stairs and into the kitchen. She didn't really feel hungry, but she knew from bitter experience what it was like to be starved, and she didn't want to feel anything like the mournful craps of hunger in the pit of her stomach again. The rumblings of anxiety were bad enough. As Lisa sat down at the kitchen table, Marge was fussing over Bart, mumbling in concern. "Oh dear, you're boiling up. I don't think you'll be able to go into school today, Bart. You'd better go back up to bed..." Smiling in satisfaction, but looking genuinely unwell, Bart shuffled uneasily out of the room, as Lisa looked on in concern. "He's not going to school?" she asked quietly, her heart sinking. "No, he's got a temperature and he says he's been sick." Marge said, obviously worried about her special little guy's health. "It's a shame, he really wanted to go in today - for once - to see you settle in." Half-heartedly, Lisa chewed her toast, mulling over what awaited her in school. The actual lessons weren't that much of a worry, but Lisa dreaded lunchtime - an hour alone, at the mercy of the other children. If they were anything like the pupils at her old school, it would be hell... After what seemed like a lifetime to Lisa, Marge stared up at the clock on the kitchen wall. "Oh, Lisa, it's 8:50. C'mon, we'd better be going!" Lisa took in a deep breath, and sighed. This was it now... climing down from her chair, she gathered her things together, and followed her aunt out to the car. On the short journey to Springfield Elementary, Marge noticed the worried expression on Lisa's face, and tried to involve her in conversation. "You'll like Principal Skinner - he's a very nice man - just as long as you don't mention Vietnam..." she said, brightly apart from the brief caveat at the end. "You must be really excited, Lisa." One look from the girl told her a very different story. She looked exactly as she had when Marge and Homer had first visited her in the hospital - her shoulders slumped, her face was etched with the pain and suffering she'd had inflicted upon her, while her eyes were filled with fear and shame. It was only now that Marge realised just how much a few weeks basking in the warmth of love and affection had changed Lisa for the better. "Oh, I'm sorry Lisa. I know how scarey this must be for you." Marge said, letting her real feelings show through rather than the perfect-mother front that she normally adopted by instinct. "You'll be ok, you know." she smiled, warmly, and watched with delight as Lisa smiled back. Eventually, the car pulled up outside the school. It was a little past nine o'clock, and lessons had begun - Lisa was pleased by that, as she could go in fairly anonymous. "Well, here were are Lisa." Marge said, with a slight tone of foreboding in her voice - she knew just how nervous Lisa was, and shared some of her anxiety. As they got out of the car, Lisa did something that, a few weeks ago, she would never have dared to do to anyone. She hugged Marge warmly. "What was that for?" Marge asked, kindly. "I don't need a reason, do I?" Lisa smiled back. Taking Lisa's hand, Marge led her into school, and to Principal Skinner's office. As she walked down the corridor, Lisa looked around, taking in her new surroundings. It all seemed so alien and distant to her... she found the idea of spending the next few years coming here daunting. Mr Skinner seemed... well... ok, as principals go, Lisa thought. He was certainly a great believer in order, she mused as she sat in stomach-churning silence in his obsessively tidy but bland office - most people manage to stamp some of their personality on a room that they spend any amount of time in, but this looked like something from an office furniture catalogue. As Marge and Skinner discussed, amongst other things, Bart's latest disciplinary problems, Lisa looked around the room, trying to give her racing mind something else to focus on... when she was nervous, Lisa had the habit of fiddling with the hem of her dress - as the moments passed, she realised she had a sizeable part of her skirt rolled around her fingers. Eventually, Marge thanked Skinner for his time, and stood up, turning to Lisa. "I'm going now, honey." she said. "Principal Skinner will show you around school, ok? Good luck!" Lisa watched sullenly as Marge left the room, leaving her alone with Skinner. After a moment's awkward silence, he stood up. "Come on young lady, let's show you around. Tell me, does Principal Dunn at Shelbyville Elementary still have that Honda?" Slowly and purposefully, Skinner escorted Lisa around the school in meticulous detail. Before the tour Lisa had dreaded getting into her new class, but now she found herself waiting impatiently to get away from this man and get it over with. He showed her around the halls, the lockers, the gym, the sick bay, the canteen, the cloakrooms, the lab which had been gutted in the fire (that Bart had denied all knowledge of...), the caretaker's room... finally, he stopped her outside a classroom, inside which a young female teacher was busy giving a lesson. "Well, here we are, Lisa. This is your classroom." Principal Skinner exclaimed. Lisa's heart fluttered anxiously as adrenalin raced around her body - this, was it, at last! Trying her best to banish the negative thoughts in the back of her mind, she took a deep breath and followed him in. "Good morning, Principal Skinner." the teacher said, brightly. "Ah, this must be Lisa." "Yes Miss Carsley, class 5C, this is Lisa Simpson." Skinner said, authoritively. Lisa Simpson. Lisa was still getting used to that. When the Simpsons had adopted her, she'd taken their surname - she was glad to be rid of any reminder of Jack, but it still felt strange. Still, she told herself, it would be good practice for when she was married. Anxiously, Lisa peered shyly into the sea of faces in front of her. She felt so self-concious standing up there in front of them, and she could feel their critical eyes boring into her, trying to place her in the class's social heirachy. Quickly, she fixed her gaze at the floor, and starting tugging at her dress again, trying to second-guess what the other students were thinking about her. As much as she tried to think positively, something nagging inside her kept telling her that they didn't like her, that she was ugly, that she didn't deserve any of these children as friends. It was the voice of Jack. "Lisa, why don't you tell your fellow students a little about yourself?" Skinner suggested loudly. Lisa looked up at him for a moment, but quickly looked back down at her shoes again. As if she wasn't worried enough! What exactly could she tell them about herself... that she'd never even known her real dad? That her stepfather locked her in a cupboard and fed her dogfood? That she'd tried to kill herself but had overdosed on vitamin tablets by mistake? If the rest of the class didn't think she was an idiot now, they would if she tried to introduce herself to them all like this. Aware that twenty pairs of eyes were piercing into her, Lisa mumbled nothing in particular barely-audibly into her chest. Noticing how worried her newest student looked, Miss Carsely put a hand on her shoulder. "Err, maybe you should just go and sit down, Lisa. You can introduce yourself later. Just pick an empty desk." Lisa looked up at her teacher, some of the worry lifting from her shoulders. "Thanks." she whispered quietly, and went to find somewhere to sit. "Well, okay..." Skinner said, thrown a little by having his suggestion rejected. "I've leave you to get settled, Lisa." he said as Miss Carsley ushered him out of the door. Walking down the aisle past rows of other children, Lisa tried not to look anyone in the eye. Her feelings of nervousness and awkwardness felt so much more acute now as she was virtually face to face with rows of her peers, every one of them staring blankly at her. The silence was punctuated by the occasional whisper coming from somewhere in the classroom (it seemed like the other end of the earth to Lisa at this moment)... about her no doubt, she thought to herself. What are they saying about me? After what must have been seconds, but what felt like a lifetime, Lisa found an empty desk, and gingerly sat herself down at it. Instantly, a boy directly in front of her turned around, angrily. "Hey, you can't sit there! That's where Kevin sits!" he said, seemingly taking it as a personal affront. Quickly, Lisa jumped out of the seat, already feeling her cheeks burning with the embarrasment. "Oh, sorry." she apologised, backing away as the boy and his friends scowled at her. Her previously high hopes were sinking, now - she wasn't making a very good first impression. Aware that the entire class was still watching her every move, Lisa stumbled around desperately looking for somewhere to sit. She felt totally alone in the world as she searched anxiously, wanting just to disappear into anonymity again. Finally, she found another empty desk, and noticed the girl sitting directly to the left of it staring at her expectently. "Excuse me... does anybody normally sit here?" she asked, quietly. "No." the girl said, plainly. Gratefully, she sat herself down. "Thanky..." she started, but gave up when the girl, who previously had been unable to take her eyes off Lisa, turned around and started talking to her friend. Sighing sadly, Lisa turned to face the front of the class. As she did, she saw the teacher still trying to get rid of Principal Skinner. What had seemed like an agonising eternity to Lisa had only lasted a few brief seconds. She'd only been in this class for a matter of minutes, but she was already a nervous wreck. She already felt humiliated and embarrased - she could feel tears stinging in the corners of her eyes. Using all her strength, she fought to hold them back. She didn't want to start crying now, not in front of everybody on her first day. "Well, class, I'm sure you'll all get to know Lisa later." Miss Carsley said as she returned to her lesson, visibly relieved to be rid of Skinner. "Now where were we? Ah, yes, the test." The class collectively groaned as she produced a thick pile of papers from a drawer in her desk. "Like I told you, it's nothing to worry about - it's just a standard attainment test. It won't affect any of your grades, so just try to do the best you can. Lisa, I suppose you can try this too if you want..." Lisa nodded acquiesently as Miss Carsley handed out the papers. She just wanted to get down to something, *anything* as soon as she could. Once every student had a test paper, the teacher sat back down at her desk. "You've got until lunchtime, class." she announced. Eagerly, Lisa threw herself into solving the problems in front of her on paper. When she looked up again, she noticed that everyone around her was still immersed in the test. She glanced up at the clock on the wall, and noticed that she had finished all the questions in a matter of minutes. Well, that distraction hadn't lasted for long, and Lisa again became painfully self-concious, hoping that no-one was looking at her. After an age, the bell rang for lunch, and Lisa sat and watched as the rest of the class broke off into their own little cliques, happily and chaotically fighting their way outside. Slowly, she stood up and followed the crowds uncertainly out into the playground. Outside, Lisa felt overwhelmed. She was surrounded by groups of strangers, and they all seemed to be staring at her. Wandering around aimlessly, she was on edge as she wished dearly that Bart could be here now. Looking up, she noticed a tree in the far, isolated corner of the schoolyard. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, Lisa quickly made her way to it, and sat herself down beneath it, looking out sadly at the rest of the students. Pulling a book out of her satchel, Lisa sighed as she tried to blot out her lonliness. Despite her best efforts, Lisa couldn't concentrate - what if someone sneaked up on her while she was reading? She didn't want to be a problem to anyone or cause any trouble, but she knew by now that trouble invariably looked for, and found, her. Nervously, she constantly peered over the top of her book, trying to see if anyone was coming anywhere near her. As time passed, Lisa began to relax, though she still took furitive looks at the yard from time to time. She was beginning to feel calm, when she looked and saw a group of girls standing about twenty yards away from her. And they were looking at her! Lisa tried to keep calm, but she could feel the icey grip of panic taking hold. She recognised some of them - they were from her class. What did they want with her? What were they going to do? Hiding her face behind her book, she tried to pretend that she hadn't seen them, and had no idea that they were there. Subconciously, she could hear that same angry, mocking voice again. She'd really made a mess of things now - those girls had only known her for an hour or two, and they could already see how worthless she was. Lisa sighed sadly as she bowed to the inevitable. Once again, she looked up resigned to her fate. One of the girls was coming towards her. In desperation, Lisa thought about running, briefly, or hoping that she could attract a teacher's attention. She quickly put those thoughts out of her head, though - they'd get her in the end, like everybody always did. And it would be much worse when they did. Curling herself in a ball, Lisa stared coyly at the girl - she seemed to be smiling. They must be planning something, thought Lisa. Eventually, the girl spoke. "Hi, I'm Janey. It's Lisa, isn't it?" Lisa nodded as she kept looking at the girl, afraid to do anything. Why couldn't they just get it over with? "Well, I was just wondering if you'd like to come over and hang out with us?" "Are you sure?" Lisa asked, taken aback by Janey's offer. Why would anyone want to hang out with *her*? As overjoyed as she was to be asked, she could feel her stomach churning even more - what if she said the wrong thing, or annoyed them? Still, she was definitely keen. If, by some chance they liked her, she might even make a few friends... Janey giggled slightly. "Yeah, Lisa. I know how hard it must be to be the new kid and not knowing anyone, and we don't want to see you just sitting on your own. Come on!" Anxiously, Lisa stood up and followed Janey over. She watched as Janey took the initiative to make the introductions. "Lisa, this is Alison, Alex, Sherri, and Terri. Everyone, say hi to Lisa!" To her suprise, the other girls were all just as friendly to her as Janey had been - unlike at her old school, there were no icey stares or snide comments directed towards her. As the weight of fear lifted from Lisa's shoulders, a thought that had been running through her mind for some time was beginning to come to the fore - maybe it hadn't been her all along, maybe she hadn't deserved the misery and pain that had been heaped upon her in the past... and maybe, just maybe, she had found people who liked, accepted, and even *loved* her. "I like your dress, Lisa. It really goes with your shoes." Allison said. Bashfully, Lisa smiled. "Thankyou." She had never recieved compliments about her appearance before from someone of her own age, and it meant a great deal to her - it represented a complete turnaround. As she got to know the girls, gradually becoming more and more confident and relaxed, the bell rang for the end of their lunch break. As she made her way back to class, Lisa was nudged by Sherri. "Hey, Lisa." she whispered. "Look over there." Lisa looked over into a distant corner of the yard, unsure of what exactly she was meant to be looking at. "You see that funny-looking boy over on the climbing frame?" Lisa spyed a peculiar blue-haired boy sat on a horizontal frame, staring down at his feet through his thick, red-rimmed glasses. "I *think* so..." "Well... he didn't want me to tell anyone, but... he likes you." Sherri said, giggling with Terri as she did. "He did?" Lisa said, her voice trailing off as she looked over in amazement as her admirer made his way neurotically back to class. Never mind being complemented on her clothes, this was something that she'd never even imagined ever happening to her - a boy actually liked her. This was getting better and better - and to think that she'd been worried about today - that all seemed so far away now. Still staring over, Lisa set her feet back on the ground and took a closer look at him. "Ewwww, gross!" she laughed. ------- "Higher daddy, higher!" Jack stared emotionlessly at the flickering image, the bright electric light from the TV screen illuminating the otherwise darkened room. It was an old home video he'd unearthing while trying to bring some order to the house, a reminder of a happier time - not that he could recognise either the bright eyed, happy young girl, or the dignified man who both seemed to be enjoying themselves so much. Contemplating the electronic ghosts that danced before him, Jack was acutely aware that it was his own demonic self-destruction that had changed both man and child for the worse - heightened by sobriety, this awareness led to painful remorse. Closely, he looked at the giggling young Lisa - she couldn't have been any older than four or five, so innocent and loving. Little did she know then the terrible extent of cruelty that man was capable of. But she knew now - Jack had made sure of that. How had he let it come to this? Back then, he pondered, he had been so proud when Lisa called him Daddy. It was something that he had longed all his life - when Susan had been pregnant, he had made a vow to himself that he would never do to his child what his father had done to him. What an empty promise that had turned out to be. But, he argued with himself, there was a reason for the way that he had acted. He had known all along that she wasn't his daughter. At least, he had suspected for years that Susan was more than just a friend to that no-good hornblower. He'd always had a temper and he wasn't exactly easy to live with - he knew that. But for his own wife to be unfaithful to him, to make him look like an idiot... still, he had dealt with that a long time ago. When Susan found out she was expecting, he was convinced that the baby would help cement their, at times, unstable marriage. And Lisa had, at least to begin with. With Bouvier out of the way, Jack had quickly put those suspicions of his wife's infidelity behind him - at least, he thought he had. He'd actually only supressed them, pushing them into a convinient corner of his minder, like he always did. Essentially, Jack had only two ways of dealing with emotion - unleashing it in a furious rage, or hiding it away so that it could fester under cover of dark. In reterospect, he could see why he had been so proud, now - it was his masculine competiveness and bitter insecurity coming to the fore. He was delighted that Lisa was *his* child, and no-one else's. Things had been going well for him - he had a young family to support. A purpose, something to show his father that he hadn't been worthless after all. And then came the accident. It was still unclear to this day what had happened - he recalled wading into a burning house, full of the usual bravado. It was part of his identity - Jack Fitzgerald, the fearless firefighter, always the first to lay down any regard for his own safety. It was part of his desperate efforts to prove himself too, he now realised. He remembered racing up a staircase into the heart of the inferno, following a scream of terror. A young girl stood at the top, frozen in panick. The last thing Jack could remember as he picked her up was the sickening sensation of having the ground beneath his feet ripped from under him, and the expression on the girl's face as they plunged together - her face would haunt him forever. When he woke up, he was a shadow of the man who had ran into that house. While the toll of the physical and mental injuries he sustained in the fall took days, weeks, and even months to fully show themselves, the news that the girl had died, unable to survive in the smoke without the benefit of the unconcious fireman's breathing apparatus, was a devastating hammer blow. He never recovered. He remembered sitting in hospital, a virtual cripple, and listening to his colleagues trying to convince him that he hadn't been to blame, that it had just been a tragic accident. But Jack couldn't shake off the terrible guilt - if only he could have done something, *anything* different, she might have lived. That was what broke him as a man - slowly, his grief turned to bitterness and anger. Like a cancer, it attacked his very soul. Life was cruel and meaningless, he decided, if it allowed something like this to happen. Gradually, the darkness began to blot out any compassion or decency Jack had ever had. Unable to work, tortured by guilt and the shame of failiure, brimming with rage, he looked for salvation in a bottle. Eventually, his wife had been unable to tolerate it any more, which was what lead to that final confrontation. Though he had always suspected it deep down, Jack did not take the confirmation that Lisa wasn't his biological daughter well. Even now he bristled with anger at idea that his wife had known all along that she was someone else's. She must have had a good laugh at me, Jack fumed. If there was one thing that he hated, that made him angrier than anything else, it was being made a fool of. Susan had definitely done that. Grappling with his own rage, losing a grip on his self-control, Jack contemplated the scene filckering in front of him, of the joyful young girl laughing as she was pushed higher and higher on the swings. He regretted what he'd done, all of it - there was no question of that. After pushing his wife away with his moods and his self-pity, he turned on Lisa - drunk on rage as much as alcohol, she was the only thing left for him to hit out at. He used to sit at night, and often he could hear her crying as she tried to sleep. Part of him regretted what he was doing, and it often caused him even more torment, but the self-loathing he felt just fuelled his anger, having no other outlet. He would often wonder what it was she was crying out of - fear, pain, anger, grief for her mother, hunger? He knew it could have been anything... Restlessly, Jack leapt out of his chair and paced the room. He always worked himself into this sorrowful frenzy - he could kid himself that he actually missed the girl at times like this. It was one of those mood swings that he had accepted as part of his psyche a long time ago. At times like this, he'd even considered trying to track her down, just to see how she was, maybe even to tell her he was sorry. But he knew that after a few drinks filled him with murderous fury again, her address would be dangerous information to have. Tersely, he pulled a piece of paper from the mantlepiece, and read it another time. It was a standard letter from his solicitors, confirming the date of his trial. The idea still angered him - they wanted to try HIM? After everthing he had done for the local community? Though he didn't want to admit it, the prospect of prison scared him too. That would mean sobriety, and facing up to his many problems. As the frustration built up inside him he clenched his fist tightly, crunching the letter. If it wasn't for Lisa, he wouldn't be in this position. Feeling his temperature rise, he threw the paper down on the floor in disgust. He could feel his mood turning sour again as he thought of that damn girl causing all this trouble for him. Looking up, he saw the tape was still playing, still showing his fractured family enjoying each other's company. Picking up an empty bottle from the floor, he let out a furious shout as he threw it at the screen, and watched as it shattered loudly into pieces, forever destroying the final painful reminder of his old life. ------ Later that afternoon, Marge was sitting in the front room when she heard the familiar sound of the dilapidated school bus wheezing past her house. Anxiously, she looked out of the window as it shuddered to a halt outside her house. She had been worrying about Lisa all day, and now she was about to find out how that difficult first day had went. Staring intently out at the bus, Marge watched as Lisa emerged, trying to look for any clues as to her mood. Well, she thought, she seemed to be happy enough - she was talking to someone, and she looked like she was smiling. Marge sighed with relief - that was, until she saw the bus pull away without Bart disembarking. What had he done now? Still standing at the window, Marge watched Lisa skip happily down the path, and waited for her knock on the door. "Hi honey, how was it?" As Marge opened the door, Lisa burst in enthusiastically. It was great to watch, Marge thought - she hadn't seen Lisa quite like this before. She was like a coiled spring - after years of supressing all this joyful energy deep inside herself, she was finally confident enough to unleash it and share it with the world. Marge could barely keep up with Lisa as she eagerly told her about her day. "It was great!" she grinned, bursting with excitement. "My teacher's really nice - she gave me a letter to give to you - and she told me that they have a school band and I should bring my sax in. I made some friends, too. Can I go to a sleep-over on Friday Marge, can I?" "Calm down, Lisa." Marge said, kindly, placing her hands on Lisa's shoulders. "You can tell me all about it later, but there's someone I want you to meet in here first." Though she found it hard to hold on to her childish glee, Lisa followed Marge into the room, curious about this stranger. She'd always been nervous around new people in the past, but with her confidence and self-esteem slowly building, she wasn't so worried... "Lisa, this is Lionel Hutz. He wants to talk to you about the trial." Marge said. Lisa looked at the man sat grinning in front of her. He was wearing a cheap suit and had a battered leather briefcase on his lap, possibly an attempt to add a veneer of professionalism to his appearance. It didn't exactly fill her with confidence. "Hello there, little lady." he said to her. "You mean... Jack's trial?" she asked, slightly less confident than she had been a few moments ago. She'd known that it was coming, and soon, but she didn't expect to be faced with it just yet. "That's right, Lisa." said Hutz. "What do you need to talk to me about?" she asked, becoming worried. The very mention of Jack's name was a painful reminder of the misery that Lisa had hoped to herself she had left behind. The idea of being in the same room as him filled her with dread. "Well, Lisa... you know why Jack - Mr Fitzgerald - is being put on trial, don't you?" Hutz asked. As she nodded, he continued. "You see, the thing is there isn't a great deal of evidence against him at the moment, so if we want to be able to convict him, I think that we need you to get up and tesitfy with him." "No evidence??" Marge asked, incredulously. "How can you say that? What about all her injuries?" "I'm sorry Mrs Simpson, but that isn't enough." he shrugged. "We really need a testimony from Lisa." "W...would I have to get up in front of the whole room... in front of *him*?" Lisa asked. "I'm afraid so, Lisa." Hutz said gravely. "But don't worry, they'll make it easy for you..." "I don't... I don't want to, sir." Lisa interrupted, quietly. Would she ever be free of him? Her previous joy and confidence came crashing down around her as she realised that she'd be face to face with him again. What if he tried to do anything to her? "Lisa!" Hutz said in exasperation, realising that this young girl could be the difference between victory and yet another defeat. "If you don't testify, he'll go free. You don't want to see that, do you?" Starting to panick as fear began to build inside her, Lisa stood up and stared at the lawyer sadly. "Well... I... I got away from him, didn't I, and he's not going to get me here, is he? Why do we have to go through all this?" Groaning, Marge walked over to her. "Lisa, he did some terrible things to you - you can't let him get away with it!" "I just want to forget about him. I never want to see him again." Lisa replied, shaking. Marge kneeled down and held Lisa's hand tenderly. "Ahh, I understand how you feel, honey..." To her suprise, Lisa pulled away from her for the first time. "But you don't, do you?" she said tersely, as she turned and ran, tears forming in her eyes. After ushing Lionel Hutz away, Marge went up to see Lisa. Softly, she knocked on her bedroom door, and let herself in. "Lisa, are you okay?" she asked with concern. Lisa, who had been laid on her bed with her back to Marge, quickly turned around to face her aunt, looking up at her sadly with her red-ringed eyes. "Oh Marge, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have spoken like that to you, or Mr Hutz..." Marge quickly butted in as Lisa was in mid-flow apologising. "Lisa, it's okay. We shouldn't have forced it on you like that." Marge continued as she sat down on the bed. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to, honey. I can't make you, and neither can anyone else - no-one would blame you if you were too scared to do it, after everything he put you through." "I don't know *what* to do." Lisa sniffed. It was a dilemma that she'd put off for some time now, though she'd known all along that she would have to make a decision eventually. As well as fearing Jack, part of her wanted to forgive him - after all, he had been good to her for years, and only turned when he lost his wife and his job. She just wanted to live a normal life with her new family and friends. But part of her, a side to her personality that she didn't even like to admit to herself existed, wanted revenge. She'd suffered so much at his hands, and she'd picked up some of the hate and anger that he had unleashed upon her - now, that dark resivoir of resentment festered inside her, and it wanted Jack's blood. "Well, you know what I think you should do, Lisa." Marge said lovingly, putting her arm around the girl. "But it's up to you in the end. It's your choice." Lisa looked up at her, and smiled softly. "Marge?" she said, after a moment. "Yes, honey?" "I think I *will* testify." Over the next few weeks, both Lisa and Jack prepared for the day when they would be brought back together in court. Vitalised by the new opportunities and experiences that her new life allowed her, Lisa was able to put her mind at rest much more easily than her stepfather - for her, it was merely a distraction, albiet an ominous and dreaded one, from her everyday life. For Jack, it was of crucial importance. Even if he'd lost everything else, he still clung onto his reputation, salvaging a slither of pride from it. On the other hand Lisa, freed from the dark shadow that had been cast over her by Jack, was beginning to blossom. After years of abuse, Lisa had built a wall between herself and the outside world, in an attempt to deflect some of the cruelty that it made her suffer. Now, she was beginning to let down her guard, and discover the joys of life. At school, Lisa shone. Those years of solitary and finding refuge in books had been good for at least one thing - the attainment test that Lisa had sat on her first day in Springfield Elementary had revealed a precocious intellect - genius level, according to the school psychologist. That wasn't her only talent, either - on the saxophone, she had taken over where she had left off some years before with minimal effort. According to her music teacher, she was a natural. Marge in particular was filled with pride at her niece's achievements. After a few weeks, Lisa had fitted into the family so well it was as if she'd always belonged there. As well as striking up such a relationship with Marge that they were practically mother and daughter in everything but name, she adored Maggie (the feeling was mutual), and became close with Bart. She soon grew to love Homer's clumsy but well intended manner, and deeply appreciated his heartfelt efforts to be a good surrogate father to her. She had quickly became inseparable with Allison and Janey, clinging to them as anyone who had been starved of friendship for years would. When it was suggested that she might benefit from changing schools in an attempt to maximise her deep potential, Lisa had refused, not wishing to be parted from any of the people who had been so important in bringing her out of herself. She loved each and every one of them. ------ Finally, the day of the trial came around. As the Simpson's car pulled up outside the courthouse, Lisa looked around anxiously for Jack. She was still worried about bumping into him outside - what would he do to her? She was dreading seeing him again and being caught by that withering, angry stare of his. "Thanks for coming with me, everyone." Lisa said. The whole family was there, and Lisa appreciated their support. "I'm just glad to have the day off work." Homer said. As they got out of the car, Lisa heard someone call out her name - to her relief, it wasn't Jack. Looking round, her face lit up as she saw Nurse Stanway waving to her, hand in hand with Doctor Weir. Joyfully, she ran over to her and embraced her. "Hi, Lisa." smiled the nurse. "How are you?" "I'm okay, I guess..." Lisa said, delighted to see her again. "I'm... I'm worried about seeing Jack again, though." Nurse Stanway put her arms around Lisa to comfort her. "You're going to testify, aren't you?" she sighed. Lisa nodded. Kindly, the nurse ruffled her hair. "Oh, I'm proud of you Lisa - you're so brave. Don't worry sweetie, he won't be able to hurt you. Come on, I think we'd better go in." With that, she took Lisa's hand and walked in. Inside, Lisa met up with Lionel Hutz and her family. Gravely, Hutz went over what he wanted her to say and what she should expect. Surrounded by the people who cared about her, Lisa felt determined to do what she had to do, and have her abuser brought to justice. Then, she saw Jack. Standing at the other end of the room, he was talking to his own lawyer, wearing his best suit. As she stared at him, transfixed with fear as those awful memories came flooding back, she could sense the atmosphere around her changing for the worst. He wasn't how she remembered him. He was looking calm and trying to exude an air of decency and respectability - it didn't seem right to her. It had only been a matter of a few months since she had last seen him, but he looked years older - was it worry about this trial that had affected him, or maybe even guilt for what he had done, she wondered? Physically, he looked just how she remembered him - he was just as big and powerful as ever. Stood only a few yards away from him, Lisa didn't feel quite as brave. He had seen her she could tell, but he was trying not to look at her. As the reality of the situation began to become more acute to her, Lisa couldn't take her eyes from him. Anxiously, Marge tried to pull Lisa away - she could see what sort of an effect it was having on her. "Lisa, let's go." she said. Reluctantly, Lisa finally pulled herself out of her fearful trance, and as she did Jack called out to her. "It's good to see you, Lisa." he said, his voice a confused mixture of anger and sarcastic sincerity. Seeing the look of terror on the girl's face, Nurse Stanway glowered at Jack furiously. "Don't you talk to her!" she spat at him, making her disgust plain for all to see. Unhappy at being spoken to in such a way, especially by a woman, Jack strode into the centre of the room aggresively, his face contorting in rage. "Oh, are you going to stop me?" he said darkly, clenching his fists. "I can't wait 'til they lock you up, you bastard!" she shouted, standing firm. "Oh yeah?" he growled, stepping towards her slowly. Quickly, Doctor Weir and Jack's lawyer moved to pull them away from each other. Getting closer to boiling point, Jack was ignoring his lawyer's attempts to reason with him. "Just you wait... just you wait!" he said, threateningly as he was lead away to prepare for the hearing. As Doctor Weir, Marge and Homer tried to calm Nurse Stanway, it was Bart who noticed the look of horror frozen on Lisa's face. "Lisa... are you okay?" he asked her, concerned. Lisa looked at him sadly, tears welling up in her eyes. It was all so familiar, and so terrifying - the sight of Jack getting angry still filled her with fear. She'd tried to delude herself, but she knew now that she wasn't free of him at all. "I d-don't think I can do it, Bart..." she weeped mournfully. "I'm... I'm scared..." Bart took her hand. "Lisa, I KNOW you can do it! You're not going to let a jerk like that walk away, are you?" he said. Lisa sniffed. Everyone was so sure of her - they all thought that she could do this. She was scared of what would happen if she did, and she wasn't sure of how safe she would be if she did speak up against Jack, but she didn't want to let these people down. And she was angered by his reaction to Nurse Stanway. "I guess not..." she said, still unsure but finding strength in everyone else's faith in her. As she tried composing herself, her heart still pounding with fear after seeing Jack turn so quickly, a uniformed man came up to them. "State vs Fitzgerald? You're in now. Court number three." This was it, she thought. This was it. ------- Lisa had never been inside a courtroom before, and she didn't want to repeat the experience anytime in the future. Nervously, she looked around at her stern surroundings, and watched people filing into the room - she didn't really like the idea of having to stand up in here and speaking in front of all these people. She'd been warned about what was likely to happen during the course of the trial, and that the lawyers would want to describe and analyse her live with Jack in exhaustive detail - it hadn't seemed like much of a problem in the sanctuary of her home, but the enorminity of the situation was all too clear to her now. Thought she knew how unlikely it was, Lisa hoped that her mother would walk in - as much as she loved Marge and her family, Lisa's mom had experienced Jack's fury before, and Lisa wished that she could be here now to see this, and to give her support. It wasn't going to happen now, she thought to herself - she'd abandoned her years ago, so why would she reappear now? In the absense of her mother, Lisa looked up at Marge lovingly and squeezed her hand tightly. "All rise!" droned the bailiff at the front of the room. Lisa's heart skipped a beat as she stood up with the rest of the room. Presently, the judge walked in and took his place on the bench. He was a sombre looking man, staring gravely out at the room. Banging his gavel down loudly, he started the proceedings. To begin with, Lisa tried to follow what was happening in front of her, but she soon gave up trying to decipher the incomprehensible legal talk being volleyed back and forth. From time to time she heard her own name mentioned in passing, and listened numbly as her life was pulled apart in front of her. Every few minutes, she looked over furitively at Jack - she could see his grip on the cool facade he presented to the outside world loosening as Lionel Hutz laid down his case for the prosecution. He was beginning to look worried. As time went on and Hutz began to show more and more evidence to the jury, he became even more worried, and despite herself, Lisa took perverse joy out of watching her tormentor squirm. After what seemed like an age, Hutz called his first witness to the stand - Doctor Weir. Lisa listened sullenly as he described the extent of her injuries when she was taken to hospital that day - though she knew how important this was to the trial, she felt ill when she saw the slides the doctor had brought of her battered body. As she buried her head forlornly into Marge's midriff, she could see that Jack was finding it hard to look at the damning evidence in front of him too. Horrified herself, Marge held Lisa tightly. After Doctor Weir had left the stand, and Lisa felt it was safe to look again, the prosecution called some more witnesses - old Mrs Ince who had lived over the street from Lisa in Shelbyville, Nurse Stanway, and finally Marge. As Marge spoke, Lisa fidgeted nervously - she knew she was up next. She wanted to listen to what Marge was saying, but she couldn't ignore the churning fear in her stomach. What would she say? What if they didn't believe her? And she'd already seen that Jack was as volatile as ever... what if he went for her as she made her way to the stand? Eventually, Marge was allowed to leave the stand and return to her seat. Quickly, Lisa tried to compose herself in the few moments she had before facing the court. "The defence calls Miss Lisa Simpson." she heard. Slowly, Lisa got to her feet and filed past everyone, smiling weakly as they each wished her luck. Though it was only a few short yards to the witness box, it seemed like miles for Lisa - she was reminded of her first day in Springfield Elementary, when she had wandered, looking for a place to sit. Now, the silence and lonliness she had experienced that day felt a thousand times more acute, exacerbated by Jack's piercing, hateful stare. He had been told that she might well testify against him, but Jack hadn't thought she would - he was convinced that she'd be too afraid to get up and actually face him again. But now it seemed to him that he had underestimated Lisa. In Jack's twisted mind, this was treachery - she had gone against him. Holding back as best he could, he could feel the red mist built up inside. How could she do this to him? Look at her, he raged to himself. Those idiots must have filled her head with all kinds of crap, to turn her against him like that. If he could get his hands on her... Sheepishly, Lisa climbed into the witness box. It all seemed so overwhelming, looking out at a sea of faces, each staring at her. It felt too much... but no. She had to be strong now - she had come this far. As she sat, the judge peered over at her and looked down beningly, almost smiling. "Now Lisa, are you sure you want to do this?" he asked as gently as he could. "Yes, sir. I think so." she answered, a little hesitantly. A bailiff forced a copy of the bible into her hand. "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" he recited with the air of someone who had said those words so many times, but had never really wanted to. Pausing for a moment, Lisa took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jack steaming in the corner of the room - she couldn't let him get to her now. "I do." she said. The bayliff disappeared into the corner, and Lionel Hutz paced slowly over to Lisa. After worrying so much, and finding the run up to it so agonisingly long, the actual testimony passed by like a blur. Hutz had already gone through the questions he wanted to ask with Lisa, and she tried to answer them as truthfully as possible. Up there in the box, Lisa still felt alone - whenever she struggled to answer, the deathly silence in the room made her heart pound even faster, and she was still aware of the withering glances being aimed at her by Jack. But somehow, she found the strength to carry on. It was still a painful experience for her, however. She still struggled to put her suffering into words - it was as if articulating made them all the more real and inescapable. Though she was spared of having to talk about anything too graphic, she had nearly broke down when asked to describe the last time she ever saw her mother... she had long since become hardened to Jack's abuse, but the pain of being abandoned by her own mommy was still fresh. Still, she was too conscious of her audience to dwell too much on that now. As the questioning continued, Lisa gradually started to feel more comfortable up there, and her confidence began to grow slightly. As she glanced over at Jack, she noticed that his glare was now fixed at his feet, and took heart from this - the tables had turned now. She could face him, but he couldn't face her. That was a victory for her... a small one in the grand scheme of things, but immeasurable to Lisa. "Thankyou, Lisa. No further questions, your honour." she heard Lionel Hutz say, and the judge beckoned her back to her seat. That was it? It was over? Proudly, Lisa walked back across the room and sat down again among her loved ones, who congratulated her enthusiastically. "Lisa, you kicked ass!" Bart said, excitedly. Nurse Stanway and Homer both told her how well she had acquitted herself up there, but it was Marge's reaction that made Lisa happiest. She could see tears well up in her aunt's eyes as she smiled down at her proudly. "Lisa" she said proudly, "that was perfect." Beaming back, Lisa squeezed her hand lovingly. After Hutz had finished laying down his case for the prosecution, the judge called a recess. Outside, Hutz came up to the family to give them his thoughts on how it had went. Things were looking good, he said. The jury seemed to be on Lisa's side, so unless the defence could really come up with something special, it looked like they would get a good result. As Hutz was talking, Lisa noticed Jack standing with his lawyer at the far end of the corridor. He didn't look nearly as intimidating as he had a few hours before - it seemed that he realised that he was in trouble now. Looking on in satisfaction, she noticed the colour slowly draining out of his face as the flustered-looking lawyer talked to him. It looked like he anticipated the same outcome as Lionel Hutz. Suddenly, Jack's face began to contort in anger, as he started to take out his obvious frustrations and anger on the poor man. Perhaps being a little over-confident, Lisa looked on in amusement at a sight that would once have made her flee in terror. He was like a caged beast now (hopefully, thought Lisa, that's exactly what he would be soon.), pacing a narrow strip of the packed corridor, always aware that he had to keep his distance from Lisa. Glancing over, he saw that Lisa was looking at him. Undaunted, Lisa stared straight back. Jack was fuming now, with an anger burning inside him more fierce than any fire he had ever fought. That bitch, that whining little BASTARD, she was why he was here now. If it hadn't been for her, none of this would be happening. He should have killed her when he could, he raged. If he could only get his hands on her now... Unable to communicate with Lisa in any other way, Jack pointed at her aggresively, and then slowly moved his finger across his throat in a menacing gesture, leaving her in no doubt about what he would to do her for this. At the resumption of the trial, Lisa felt confident that justice would be done. Seeing Jack so perturbed, and his lawyer so anxious made her realise that her words must have had some effect on how things would turn out. Sitting there in anticipation, Lisa realised that she wasn't feeling any of the complex, ambivalents feelings that had plagued her in the run up to the trial anymore - though she knew they would catch up with her eventually, the adrenalin was still pumping through her body from the excitement of facing an audience. Despite herself, Lisa actually *enjoyed* it. After years of being kept in the shadows, partly because of Jack's cruelty and partly because of her own fears, it was exhilerating. When the formalities had been taken care of and the trial officially underway again, Jack's lawyer began his defence of his beleagured client. During it, he had the air of someone who wasn't exactly sure of what he was doing (unfortunately for Jack, being an unemployed alcholic didn't afford him a very high standard of legal service) - he had set up his defence meticulously in advance, but was now having to salvage what he could of it afer realising that Lisa's powerful testimony had put the jury firmly on her side. Originally, the lawyer, a balding, overweight man called Mr Rickman, had wanted to convince the jury that the injuries and suffering Lisa had suffered had been the result of bullying - there would be plenty of witnesses to back that up, he thought. But now he found himself having to build up his client's previous good record and respectability - there was no way that he could now portray that cute, polite kid who had taken the stand as a liar. Unfortunately, Jack's reputation had taken a battering after he could regularly be seen stalking the streets of Shelybville, causing drunken mayhem whenever he could, and to whoever looked weak enough to let him get away with it. It would take all a lawyer's skill to paint a flattering portrait of the broken man that Jack had slowly become. Unfortunately for him, Rickman had no obvious legal skill. Rickman had called Jack to the stand to defend himself, but it hadn't gone to plan - Jack had been shaken by the strength that Lisa had shown, and could barely compose himself enough to answer the questions that he had rehearsed so carefull with his lawyer. At the end of his brief defence, the haggard, resigned look on the lawyer's face spoke volumes. During Rickman's desperate attempt to save Jack from conviction, Lisa's mind wasn't nearly as focused as it had been for the prosection, when she had the worry of testifying hanging over her. The afternoon in court passed her by as a blur, wrapped as she was in the bitter memories of the recent past that had been thrown up today, as well as the excitement that life in Springfield offered, free from the burden of Jack. As Jack's liberty hung by a thread, Lisa could feel her own freedom getting closer and closer. Once the judge had summed up the whole case and sent his jury away to decide Jack's fate, Lisa found herself outside in the corridor once again as all around her celebrated what they felt was now a foregone conclusion. Only Lionel Hutz advised caution against their high hopes, warning that the judge might only see fit to give Jack a slap on the wrist, and that was assuming that he was found guilty at all. Uncertainly, the family milled around, not knowing how long they would be expected to wait. It was an agonising wait, not just for Lisa, as the people who had taken the abandoned, abused little girl to their hearts longed to see the final weight lifted from her young shoulders. Jack was, this time, noticeable by his absence - maybe he couldn't stomach having to look at a bouyant Lisa again, or maybe the bailiffs expected the result that the Simpsons did, and were making sure that Jack couldn't flee justice at the last moment? As the family and representatives from Shelbyville hospital chattered amongst themselves, Lisa leant herself against the wall, looking up at them. A few months ago, she'd been alone in the world. Unloved, starved of affection and even looking on herself with contempt, she would never have imagined that she would be standing here now. She'd have been embarrased at all this fuss about her - she wasn't important enough for any of it. No-one cared what happened to her. Now, she knew that wasn't true. She DID matter. People DO care about her. Lots of people. That was like a revelation to her, after years of just accepting that she was a bad person as fact. Now more than ever, faced directly with her painful past and her bright future, Lisa was more grateful, and amazed. Out here, time passed more slowly as the possible outcomes were discussed and dissected in detail. As the minutes ticked away, the conversation turned to whether or not the jury would require the night to make their decision. Eventually, a bailiff summoned them back to the court. The jury had made their choice. Calmly, on the surface at least, the court filled up to hear the verdict. Lisa noticed that Jack was being flanked by guards now - surely that was a sign? Looking over at Jack, Lisa could see something that she never had before... fear, and vunerability. She'd never thought that he was capable of those emotions, so familiar to her in the past, and it suprised her. Maybe, deep down, he still was human? Gradually, the bustling room quietened down as the judge returned, scowling as ever as he prepared to dispense justice. Lisa and Jack alike looked in anxiously as the foreman of the jury stood up. "Have you reached a decision?" asked the judge sternly. "We have." said the foreman. Lisa could feel her heart pounding and the seconds dragging by as the foreman, relishing being the centre of attention, deliberated over revealing the verdict the jury had taken so little time to reach. "We find the defendant, Jack Fitzgerald... guilty." said the foreman. It took a moment for the decision to register with Lisa. He was guilty! They'd believed her! All around her, people were overjoyed - Marge was even crying. And although Lisa felt she should be happy, she didn't feel it. It didn't seem like something to celebrate... no matter what anyone said, she still considered Jack to be her father, and try as she might she could find no real joy in seeing this happen. Her overwhelming feeling was of relief, that he couldn't hurt her now, and that it seemed now, at last, that the last few harrowing years that had interrupted her precious childhood were over now. Suddenly feeling much more secure, Lisa stared over at Jack unabashed. His head was bowed now, but he looked as calm as possible under the circumstances. Unamused, the judge banged his gavel down, shouting for order in his court. Though it took a few minutes, he eventually got his wish. Narrowing his eyes, he fixed the ashen-fashed Jack with a harsh stare. "Mr Fitzgerald," he began fiercely, "you have been found guilty by this court of several counts of wilful and pre-meditated negligence, false imprisonment, and actual bodily harm on Lisa Simpson, a child left in your care. Over a period of several years, you subjected Miss Simpson to quite unimaginable cruelty. It is obvious to me that these are the actions of a violent, sadistic man." All the time, Jack kept his head firmly down, staring at his feet. As Lisa blinked, she could feel tears running down her cheeks. The judge continued. "Your defence council has pointed to your previous good standing in the community in the respected position of firefighter, and the doubtless trauma that you endured when your career was cut short in tragic circumstances. While these are fair points, it should also be noted that you have been cautioned about your conduct in the past, and that psychological profiling has not suggested that you can claim any sort of dimished responsibilty for these terrible deeds." "I have considered the options open to me, and I believe that your violent tendencies are so serious that I cannot allow you to walk free from this court. As such, it is my recommendation that you should be sent to prison for a period of six months. Guards, take the prisoner down." As Jack was escorted away suprisingly timidly, apparently resigned to his fate, the court erupted around Lisa, as people chattered noisily about what they had just seen unfold in front of them. The reaction of the people around her was mixed - some, like Homer and Doctor Weir, were just grateful to see that Fitzgerald finally got what was coming to him, and were relieved to be able to get home. Nurse Stanway, her passion fuelled by the suffering she had endured as a child herself, was complaining bitterly that the sentence was too lenient. Marge, her maternal instincts immediately taking over, comforted her adoptive daughter. "Oh, I'm so proud of you, honey!" she said warmly as she beamed at Lisa, taking her hand. "And it's all over now! You don't have to worry about that monster again!" And she was right. For now. ------- PART VI - LISA FITZGERALD ------------------------- "Lisa, will you stop squirming? Keep still!" She wanted to, but Lisa was too nervous to sit still - she had to be at the hall for seven. She had been waiting for this moment now for months... the final of the state's Young Musician Of The Year competition. She'd never thought that she'd be able to get this far so soon after starting playing again, but somehow she had. As nervous as she was, she was looking forward to it - since the final was being held in Springfield, she knew all her friends would come along to support her. She just wished that Marge would leave her hair alone... "Sorry." she said, sheepishly. "But, y'know, they're not going to be looking at my hair..." "Oh, don't be silly Lisa." Marge said kindly, as she tried in vain to work a bow into Lisa's hair. "You want to look your best, don't you? After all, there's going to be someone from the newspaper!" As if I'm not nervous enough, thought Lisa. Still, it won't matter much... they're only going to want the winner. Eventually, Marge decided to admit defeat - it was obvious that Lisa's hair had never been meant to be moulded into anything other than the spikey tangle it had gradually evolved into over the years. "Ok Lisa, I'm finished." she said, standing up to admire her work. "Oh honey, you look adorable!" Lisa smiled as she stared at herself in the mirror - as unnecessary as she saw Marge's fussing over her appearance, she enjoyed it. She enjoyed having nice things said about her appearance rather than the sort of abuse that Jack would have thrown at her. Convinced that Marge was satisfied, Lisa leapt up, careful not to crease the dress she'd been given for the occasion, and went to do some last-minute practise. As she ran up and down some ever-quickening scales with suprising, precocious ease, Marge stood in the doorway of her room and smiled down warmly at Lisa. "Your father would have been so proud of you." she said. "I just wish he were here to see you now..." Her father... a man Lisa had never met - she'd have to take Marge's word that he would have been pleased by her musical progress. Lisa's paternity was still something that she struggled with - he couldn't really decide who, aside from the biological reality, she could really consider her daddy... was it the madman who nearly killed her, and was now safely locked up, albeit only for a few months, or was it a stranger who had died after a barroom brawl without knowing that she even existed? "Thanks." Lisa giggled. "You really think so?" "I know so." Marge said, doting on her niece. "You've really got his talent. They'll love you tonight." Lisa had put a lot of thought into the subject, and she'd gradually came to a realisation. Her father, to all intents and purposes, was Homer now - he was the one out of the three of them who provided for her and loved her. She'd come to a similar conclusion about Marge as well... it was obvious that her birth mother wasn't coming back, but though it still hurt, it didn't really matter that much to Lisa now - Marge might not have carried her for nine months, but Lisa felt that she could trust her enough to say that she'd never leave her alone in the clutches of someone like Jack. Beginning to show signs of anxiety herself, Marge glanced at her watch, and suddenly became more animated. "Lisa, it's six thirty! Come on, we'd better be going!" As Lisa was ushered downstairs and into the car chaotically by an increasingly tense Marge, she found herself suprisingly calm, considering that she was a few hours away from playing in front of hundreds of people. For the first time in years, she had reasons to feel content and optimstic - she had a real, geniunely loving family, friends, and she knew that Jack wouldn't be able to hurt her now. Those were the things she had longed for during those terrible, lonely years of despair, and she could barely believe that she had them now. Her parentage didn't really matter to her now - her real mother and father weren't a part of her life, they were just abstract figures on the horizon. Now, as the family she was still overjoyed to have found piled into the car around her, Lisa looked back at the house, the bright summer sun shining over it. She remembered back to the first time she came her when it was cloaked in darkness - she was afraid of what she would find in that strange place. Now, she realised how little she'd actually had to fear. Coming here had made all the difference to her... she finally had a life she enjoyed now. It wasn't just some strange place anymore. It was home. ------ It had all gone so quickly, once she finally got out there, after agonising hours of sitting around, waiting and worrying. Lisa had barely been able to sit still backstage, watching the other acts go on, jealously weighing up their relative abilities and wishing them to make their performance brief. Her heart was pounding as she sat clutching her saxophone in the wings, waiting for her moment to be called out to face the crowd. When she made her way out onto the stage, her nerves vanished, dissolving into adrenalin as she walked slowly through the darkness and out into the harsh glare of the bright stage lights. Peering out at the packed hall, Lisa couldn't see much... the audience were cloaked in blackness. She could hear the cheers of her friends, and see a little movement halfway back. That was music to her ears - Lisa felt much better knowing that there were people there to support her, even if she couldn't see them. Taking a deep breath as the hall gradually cooled down into silence, Lisa began to play. Just like when she testified in court, it passed too quickly for Lisa to really appreciate the experience - where her mind had previously been racing, full of thoughts, she found that it was unusually focused while she was on stage. Strangely enough, she found herself thinking of her birth mother... where was she now? What was she doing? During her performance, Lisa wondered what her mommy would think if she could see her daughter now... would she even care? As happy as she was with Marge and Homer, her mother's disappearance still riled Lisa. All too soon, it was over... just as Lisa was beginning to get to grips with her surroundings and begin to enjoy the experience, she had finished - just like in court. She'd played quite well, she thought. There were a few slip ups that she was sure were as obvious to the audience, and judges, as they were to her, but she was quite happy. As she finished, there was a brief moment of silence - as it dragged on disproportionately, Lisa began to worry that maybe she hadn't played as well as she thought she had... what if no-one clapped? After what had seemed an age for Lisa, but had been only a second or so, a mighty roar of approval came up from the crowd - Lisa smiled into the haze, overjoyed that she could provoke such a deafening response - she could even hear a few voices chanting her name, somwhere in that sea of people. Enjoying the experience, she waved to her audience as she walked somewhat reluctantly off stage. When Lisa got off, Marge was waiting for her, tears in her eyes. "I wasn't that bad, was I?" Lisa joked. "Oh, Lisa, you were perfect!" Marge said joyfully, squatting down to embrace Lisa. "They loved you, just like I said they would!" Offstage, Lisa could still feel her heart pounding as the full thrill of getting up and playing in front of such an appreciative crowd washed over her. She was sweating - she'd never quite realised just how hot those huge lights above the stage were until she stood in the full glare of one - and she was full of energy, as the adrenalin started to take effect. Lisa found that for the rest of the night, she literally couldn't sit still, and spent the rest of the evening bouncing around between the crowd and the wings of the stage, blessed with the priveledges of being a performer for the night. She still looked on those who had to follow her with a certain amount of envy, as she wished that she could be up there and repeat the experience that she had enjoyed so much. The night seemed to drag on forever, and Lisa eventually found herself sitting outside the hall with her friends in an attempt to cool down. The sun that had burned so intensly all day long had finally sunk over the horizion, but it was a balmy cloudless evening, and Lisa chattered excitedly into the night. For those few moments out there, Lisa felt as happy as she ever had done in her life - and for the first time since escaping from Jack's clutches, she truly managed to forget her past - instead of being mournfully self-concious of her past, she lived in and for that moment. Try as she might, she knew she could never entirely lift the burden of those terrible years, but in the aftermath of her glorious, exhilarating performance it was temporarily taken from her shoulders. Lost in her bliss, Lisa didn't notice Bart shouting her until he stepped out into the night and tapped her on the shoulder. As relaxed as she was, Lisa still jumped as she felt someone creep up behind her... some old habits would still die hard. Regaining her composure after that split second of unthinking panic, she turned around to face him. "Lisa, mom told me to tell you that the judges are going to announce the winners soon." Bart said, breathlessly. As a ripple of excitement passed through Lisa's body, she took a deep breath as she followed Bart back into the hall. She arrived right in the middle of the head judge's speech... something generic about celebrating the state's young musical talent, and about how all of the finalists were winners, really - she ignored him as she self-conciously rushed through the silent room and sat herself down in between Marge and Homer. With bated breath, she waited impatiently for him to finally put her, and the other competitors, out of their misery. After what felt like an age, the judge finally cut his address short, and smiled at the audience. "This is the moment you've all been waiting for..." he grinned, as he glanced at a sheet of paper in front of him. Lisa could feel her heart pounding as he deliberated agonisingly. He was good at building the tension, she could give him that. But it was infurtiating. "In this year's State Young Musician competition," he said, pausing for dramatic effect as the competitors and their supports held their breath. "The judges have awarded third place to... JOAN ENTWHISTLE!" Third place? thought Lisa. He's milking this for all it's worth. Over in a distant corner of the auditorium, she could hear excited shrieking, and watched as a tall, thin girl with glasses stood up and raced ecstatically up to the stage, where she stood proudly, albiet looking a little disappointed at being beaten by two other of the competitors. Lisa looked up at her with a tinge of jealously - she'd seen how good Joan had been... there was no chance she'd be able to beat her. Still, she hadn't expected to win, after all. After a moment to acknowledge young Miss Entwistle's achievement, the judge turned back to his expectant audience, ready to announce the runner-up. As much as she tried to convince herself that she didn't expect to win and that it didn't bother her, Lisa was no less nervous. "Isn't she fantastic, ladies and gentlemen?" beamed the judge. "Let me tell you, it wasn't easy for us to pick two people to top her. But, finally, we've decided that the runner-up should be..." There was a moment of silence. Agonising silence. "...LISA SIMPSON!" It took a moment for it to sink in... she'd won second place! Within seconds, Marge had taken hold of her joyfuly, as proud as she would have been if Lisa had been one of her own - which she practically was by now. Lisa could hear her friends cheering behind her, and smiled at them as she fought her way out of Marge's grip and made her way down the aisle. Her heart fluttered as she climed up the stairs and onto the stage, where the judge shook her hand and gave her the gift certificate - it was a modest prize, but Lisa didn't care about the material awards for her achievement. Standing next to Joan, she smiled bashfully and stared joyfully into the crowd. Once Lisa's fate had been decided, the judge didn't seem to take nearly as long to finally crown the winner of the competition... a teenage pianist by the name of Graham Lawson. Lisa looked on with contentment as Graham's talent was proclaimed by the judge - to her own suprise, she didn't feel too much disappointment at being beaten by him. She was just proud to be here, let alone up on the stage... one of the three best young musicians *in the whole state* - she didn't expect that either Joan Entwistle or Graham Lawson had been thrown as much as she had. When the judge asked the crowd to give the three successful youngsters a round of applause, Lisa was delighted when they responded with a standing ovation. When the applause died down, Lisa and the others were directed to a corner of the stage, where a photographer and journalist were waiting for them... Lisa was thrilled as the notepad-clutching hack interviewed her - nothing too much, just a few general questions like what school she went to and how long she'd been playing the saxophone (she decided not to go into her enforced break from the instrument). Once the questions had been answered, the photographer took over and organised the victorious trio into a line - they were all glad to oblige his requests for smiles, Lisa looking especially happy as he captured their joyous image on film. After a few days, the article appeared in the Springfield Shopper. Because of it's local bias, it was written around Lisa - she spent the rest of that week reading it proudly to anyone in earshot. The picture that accompanied it also featured her prominently, as the brightness in her eyes and the size of her smile made her stand out - she radiated happiness from the page. It was a picture that Lisa would cherish for years to come. ------ Despite her proven musical ability, Lisa didn't rest on her laurels... she was determined to get even better, to fulfill her potential as best she could. She would play for hours, much to the dismay of Homer, in an attempt to reclaim some of the time that she was robbed of by Jack. She had plenty of reasons to fuel her dedication, other than the genuine desire to play the music she loved. The young musician competition, her success in it, and the reaction of the people around her to it made Lisa realise that the saxophone was a way for her to prove herself as *something*... she was known for her playing now, all over the state. Slowly, but surely, Lisa's self-esteem was beginning to rise as Jack's spiteful loathing became further away and less real to her, and her musical prowess helped that progess. She wanted to prove to Jack that she was worth something after all - she wondered whether or not he knew about her finishing runner-up. Part of her hoped that he did, and that he had seen those pictures of her. She would have loved to have known what would go through his mind if he did. Her music was an emotional release, too. No matter how safe and secure Marge and Homer made Lisa feel, there were still times when the enormity of her life with Jack became too much for her. Whenever that happened and Lisa felt the emotional burden was too great to share, she would sit alone and play as loudly and as intensely as she felt she needed to. She pictured herself blowing all of the pain and sadness that dwelled in the pit of her stomach through her horn and out of her system - whenever she played like that, the frustrations and traumas of her young life flashed before her as she tried to channel the pain that they still caused out through her music. She played for her parents - the father she never knew, and the mother she didn't expect to ever see again. She played for Jack too, or rather, in spite of him. No matter how despondent Lisa ever felt, the saxophone always seemed to make her feel cleansed. As part of her thirst for more musical knowledge and attainment, Lisa still took lessons after school. Usually, these lessons lasted for around an hour - by that time, even Bart had usually been allowed to go home, so Marge would normally go to pick her up from school. But as summer came in, Lisa began walking home on her own, basking in the warmth of the afternoon. With the innocence that she had made such an effort to keep, she'd usually wander into a park near home, and would occasionally present Marge with a bundle of flowers she had lovingly picked. On one of these days, Lisa was unusually eager to finish. It was a particularly glorious day, and she wanted to get out into it as soon as possible - she was spending the night in Janey's house, something she'd been looking forward to all week. Sat in the stuffy classroom, her teacher noticed her attention wavering, and decided that there was no point in holding the girl against her will, especially since she had such an obvious and precocious talent that didn't need pushing *too* hard. "Lisa, I can see that you'd rather not be here, so I don't think there's any point in carrying on today." he said to her, bluntly but not without an understanding of her desire to enjoy the immeadiacy of the day rather than the detachted dryness of her studies. "Why don't you leave a little early?" She was a little embarrased that her boredom had been so clearly communicated, but she was grateful. "Thank you, Mr Fuqua." she said graciously as she quickly scrambled together the piles of musical notation that she was handed over the course of the lesson, eager to get out into the open as soon as she could. "I'll practise those arpeggios over the weekend, I promise... bye sir!" she chirped as she swept past him and away, making no attempt to hide her excitement. Outside, Lisa sighed with contentment as she breathed in the warm air, gazing over the horizon as the sun hung brightly in the cloudless sky. It rekindled happy childhood memories, of the idyllic days in her first home playing in the rolling fields, listening to the birds singing from the lush trees, the simplistic purity and sheer beauty of their song providing the perfect soundtrack for the perfect world she lived in. As she got older and had gradually become hardened and emotionally numb, Lisa had looked back on those days with bitterness and scepticism. These days, she felt secure enough to once again take delight in their saccharine haziness. Skipping down the steps and onto the street, Lisa noticed a car parked right outside the school, where the school bus would have been waiting about an hour ago - her impression was that it seemed like a strange place for anyone to park, since the space was clearly marked. As she passed the car, the stench of cheap cigarettes pouring out of the rolled down window, a smell which reminded her of the cigars that Jack often smoked. She did feel a little intimidated as she walked past the car, and got the feeling that she had seen the bearded driver before. Still, as she got further down the road her mind returned to happier things, and she didn't give the car or it's owner a second thought. As usual, Lisa meandered through the park on her way home, stopping to enjoy her surroundings. The park was full of people, all making the most of the glorious weather, and Lisa liked the atmosphere - she wasn't particularly extroverted, but she thought it was nice to be around people. She wondered whether or not she should take Marge some flowers home, since the ones she had taken home in the past had strangely disappeared one afternoon when Homer was left in the house alone, but decided that she had better hurry up and get home.To save time, Lisa took a shortcut that Bart had shown her - over in the far corner of the park, past the pond, there was a gap in the railings which lead onto the back of the Kwik-E-Mart. If she went down an alleyway just past there, Evergreen Terrace was just a few minutes away. As she made her way past the pond, she realised where she had seen the man in the car before - he was sat on the bench, throwing stale bread to the ducks. She'd seen him there a few times over the past few week or so, wearing the same suit and dark glasses every time. Lisa's mind wandered again as she glanced over at the man from the opposite side of the pond - he seemed so lonely, sat in isolation as the ducks mobbed him for bread and then quickly left him once they were satisfied. Knowing what it was like to be alone herself, she wondered what his story was... Forcing her way through the thin gap in the rails, Lisa realised just how quiet it was here, as opposed to in the park - the only sound that could be heard was the mechanical whirring of the Kwik-E-Mart's refridgeration system. It was such sudden isolation, seemingly from the rest of the world - Lisa thought to herself that she wouldn't want to come down here alone at night. As she took off towards home, a strange feeling came upon Lisa, almost as if someone was watching her... "HEY, YOU!" Suddenly, and without warning, Lisa felt the clammy warmth of a man's hand on her shoulder as he shouted out. She shreiked in suprise, and felt her heart skip a beat as she instinctively turned to look at the man and break away from his grasp at the same time. Looking fearfully, she saw that it was Apu, the store clerk. "How many times have I told you kids not to come round here?" he asked, in exasperation. "Sorry..." Lisa said quietly as her cheeks burnt in shame, breathing a little easier after seeing who exactly it was who scared her, and trying at the same time to supress the cheeky grin that she felt inclined to pull after experiencing the childish thrill of annoying an adult. "Well, if I find that any twinkies are missing, I'll blame you." Apu said, taking his hand off her shoulder and watching Lisa run off gratefully. "Come again, but please, come in through the front!" From there, it wasn't far for Lisa to go. She walked up the small path between rows of houses that backed onto each other, and eventually got to the alleyway. Here, it wasn't as quiet - she could hear that familar birdsong again. As she made her way through the thin alley, her thoughts were of what she would do in Janey's house tonight - pleasantly absorbed in her thoughts, Lisa barely noticed the light at the end of the alley being blotted out as someone walked into it. Eventually, Lisa realised three things as she made it to the end of the alley... firstly, it was the man from the park and outside the school. Secondly, he wasn't moving from his position in the mouth of the alley, and thirdly, he was scowling at her angrily. Suddenly, those happy thoughts flooded out of her mind again as she was gripped by panic. For a moment, she paused as the fear awoke again in the pit of her stomach, unsure of what to do. Without a word, the man lunged at her... she tried to move out of the way, instinctively, but he managed to take hold of her arm, and pulled her sharply towards him. As Lisa tried to scream, he thrust a cloth into her face. It all happened in an instant. Before she could take in what was happening, a cloud came down over Lisa's mind. She could feel herself falling as the world seemed to spin around her... as it did, she could feel everything go dark. ------ Marge looked up at the clock. A quarter to five. Where HAD Lisa gotten to? She was nervous. Not because Lisa was so late - it wasn't too unusual for Lisa to stay out after school with her friends. She was nervous because she had been putting this off for days now... but Lisa had to be told. And Marge had promised herself that would get it over with today. It was time for Lisa to know about Jack. It still riled her, though... it had only been a few months, and Jack had already been let out of prison, for "good behaviour". Good behaviour? Apparently, Lisa had a right to know, which was why Lionel Hutz had called up a few days ago. Marge had fretted over whether or not she should tell her - surely it would just upset her, especially after she thought that she wouldn't have to worry about him again. Marge had spent days trying to think of what to say, telling herself that she'd bite the bullet and talk to Lisa, but she always managed to think of some reason. But she would do it tonight, for sure. Even if she had said that to herself for the last three days, she'd definitely do it tonight. She just wished Lisa would hurry up... Right on cue, a knock on the door disturbed the quiet. Marge leapt to her feet, and walked slowly to the door, composing what she wanted to say in her head. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves and opening the door, she was suprised to see Milhouse standing in front of her, rather than Lisa. He was holding what looked to be Lisa's saxophone case, and had a slightly concerned look on his face. It took a moment, but Marge felt her stomach tighten once she realised what that meant, or rather, what it COULD mean. "Err... is Lisa there, Mrs Simpson?" asked Milhouse, his tone of voice suggesting that he didn't need to ask. Marge felt a shudder of anxiety jolt through her body, but tried to remain neutral. "No, she hasn't come home from school, yet." she said. "What's that you've got there?" "I... I found this just down there." Milhouse said, pointing just down the road. "It was in the alleyway. I thought Lisa might have dropped it." He handed the case to Marge - turning it over, she saw Lisa's name and address stencilled carefully on it, and sighed. She noticed the look of worry on Milhouse's face... both of them knew that it wasn't too likely that Lisa would manage to drop her beloved sax and not notice. But what could have happened? Why would Lisa want to... Suddenly, it struck Marge like a hammer. She could feel that sheer terror churning inside her stomach more than ever now. It was obvious. And terrifying. It was Jack. ------- The first thing Lisa could feel as she slowly drifted back into conciousness was the pain - her head was aching as she struggled to piece together what had happened to her. She remembered cutting throught the park, being collared by Apu, and making her way down the thin alley... but it was hazy after that. As soon as she fluttered her eyes open, she knew what had happened. She was back in Jack's house. Becoming more aware of her surroundings, Lisa realised that her hands were tied around the back of the chair she was slumped in, her mouth gagged. She struggled to free herself for a few brief moments, but gave up, aware of the futility of it. Fear enveloped her. She thought she'd seen the last of Jack - he was meant to be still in jail! Nausea crept up inside Lisa, and a chill passed down her spine as she wondered what he wanted to do to her. Suddenly, she regretted ever daring to testify against him... she knew that must have provoked him to do this. Since the trial, she had managed to fool herself that Jack didn't scare her anymore - she knew that wasn't true, now. In the cold light of day, Jack was still as terrifying as ever. Time passed slowly as Lisa waited for what was going to happen. As it did, her panic-striken mind raced. In reterospect, Jack's "disguise" was totally transparent - why had she failed to see throught it? She hadn't just seen him a few times, after all - he had been hanging around for days now. Lisa's stomach churned even more as she thought about Jack planning all of this while she remained blissfully unaware. And if he had taken so much effort to kidnap her, what did he actually want to do to her? Not for the first time in her life, Lisa genuinely felt that she was going to die. In the past, she hadn't really cared very much - it hadn't been as if anyone would care or even notice. This time, however, was different. Lisa's thoughts as she faced Jack's vengeful wrath were of Marge, Homer, Bart, Maggie, Nurse Stanway and all of her friends - people who DID care about her, and WOULD notice if this twisted madman did do anything to her. This time, Lisa had something other than a life that meant nothing to lose. As scared as she was, Lisa felt stronger knowing that... when she had survived in the past, it had just meant that the pain and misery that were the fabric of her life would just carry on. Now, she actually had a life that she wanted to keep. She WANTED to live now. All that didn't change how frightened Lisa was now. She hoped that Marge would burst through the door and untie her at any moment, but she knew it wasn't going to happen. She was at Jack's mercy. Suddenly, Lisa heard someone coming down the stairs noisily. Shutting her eyes, she could feel her heart pounding as he burst through the door... She couldn't believe he had fooled her for so long - all he had done was grow a beard and dye his hair a different colour. Now she knew who he was, and actually spent time looking at him rather than just passing him as she had done so many times, he was unmistakable underneath his "disguise" - his eyes were still as cold and unforgiving as ever, filled with a venom that tunneled through Lisa. As he looked down on her, trembling before him, Jack leered at her, circling her like a lion toying with it's prey, ready to swoop. He'd planned this for months now... it still didn't feel real after all those hours picturing this moment in his cell, as the fires of rage that burned inside him turned slowly into a towering inferno of sheer hatred. All the same, no matter of forward planning could prepare him for this moment - he'd started to have second thoughts in the car, and while she was still out cold from the chloroform he'd used, he'd drank to calm his nerves. That helped put any feelings other than sheer anger out of his mind. Fixing her with his glazed, yet cold and unflinching eyes, he grinned at her for a moment. Lisa looked back up at him, horror and fear etched upon her face. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she struggled against the ropes that bound her wrists, and the gag that was muffling her anguished screams and sobs of terror. He was enjoying this mental torture - he wanted to savour every moment of this. Jack had waited months to unleash the darkness that plagued him on someone else, after he had been forced to direct it at himself in prison. The experience had broken him, finally destroying whatever goodness may have still lurked inside his soul - it was the idea of losing his dignity, rather than his freedom that finally froze his heart. Pride was Jack's lifeblood - he had fought all his life to earn the respect that his job afforded him. Now, he was nothing - less than nothing, in fact; where he had once been a prominent public servant, he was a drunken, violent wreck of a man, an ex-convict. He had nothing left to lose. When his conviction robbed him of his last shred of humanity and dignity, his first thoughts were of his father, who'd treated him as little more than an object. Jack's purpose in life had been to prove that he was more than that, but maybe that's ALL he was. Forced to face them now without work or even drink to bury himself in, those terrible childhood experiences ran through his mind at night in his cell. Thoughts of suicide clouded over him constantly - after all, he didn't have much to live for now after losing his job, his family, and, most importantly, his self-esteem. It had been unbearable at times, and the only thing that got him through it was the vengeful thought of inflicting the same misery and pain upon someone else. There were plenty of people Jack blamed. As well as his father, his adulterous wife, the man she slept with, and even the girl who had died in the accident that had ended his career prematurely all entered his mind. But the person who Jack saved the most blame for, and the most pent-up anger, was Lisa... the bastard child who he'd wasted years of his life feeding and clothing, and who had repayed him by having him locked up. Besides, she was the only person out of those who contributed to his fall from grace who he could actually still hurt. And he intended to. "Well... you didn't think you'd see ME again, did you?" he said mockingly, slurring his words. "It's been a long time since you where here too, isn't it? I thought you might like to get one last look at the place..." Jack laughed manically as Lisa squirmed in her chair - he liked seeing HER imprisoned here, unable to escape from her worst fear. Slowly, he walked over to a table, and opened a drawer, pulling out a small gun. "This is it, Lisa." he said, his voice shaking a little as he inched further towards carrying out his plan. "I've got two bullets... one for me, and one for you. Not so brave now, are you?" Lisa could feel her heart pounding ever faster as stared in horror at the gun. She could see her short life flashing before her eyes as the realisation of how much danger her life was in bore into her mind. In the panic, she started to hyperventalte, and began choking. Keeping the gun pointed at her, Jack walked over to Lisa, and ripped the gag out of her mouth. Sadistically, he didn't want her to choke - he had power over her again, and he wanted to make the most of it; He wanted to hear Lisa crying, begging him for her life - he wanted to be sure that she suffered as much in her final moments as he had done for those months in prison, and for most of his adult life. His resolve was beginning to waver now as well, and he wasn't sure if he still had the nerve to carry out his terrible mission. Maybe, he thought, if she cried for help, it might panic him into silencing her, and then making sure that he wouldn't have to face justice himself. Lisa coughed nosily once her mouth was unblocked, and almost wretched. Jack took hold of her chin and thrust her face upwards so it was right in his. Menacingly, he put the gun right up against the side of her head. "Have you got anything to say?" he asked, cruelly. After the first moments of blind panic after being shown the gun, the severity of the situation had cleared Lisa's mind, focusing it almost to the point of sincerity. Her thoughts of Marge and the others had gone now, replaced by a determination to survive, for herself. She knew that screaming wouldn't help her with a gun at her head - she had to talk to Jack, to buy as much time as she could, and hope to God that somehow, someone would guess where she was... "How did you find me?" she asked. Pacing in front of her, Jack proudly pulled a tattered piece of paper from his pocket, and held it Lisa's face. She felt physically sick as she saw an image of herself grinning back - it was the article, and picture, about the young musician competiton. "We got the papers in prison, y'know." said Jack, laughing contemptuously at her. "It says in here what school you go to. They should have been more careful - you don't know who's reading..." "Why... why are you doing this, dad?" she said, as calmly as she could. Jack groaned angrily. "I'M NOT YOUR FATHER!!" he shouted at her. "Yes, you are!" she said, pleadingly. "You brought me up, you looked after me... no matter what anyone else says, you're my real dad." "SHUT UP!" Jack roared, thrusting the gun up threateningly by his head, ready to hit Lisa with it's butt. "YOU LITTLE BITCH!" Lisa squirmed, trying as best she could to duck out of the way in her chair, and watching as Jack picked up an empty bottle and threw it against the wall, cursing loudly. She didn't really know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing - it was obvious that Jack was nervous about what he was planning to do, and Lisa hoped that his anxiety would get the better of him. All the same, she really didn't want to anger a drunk with a loaded gun. "Is this because I testified against you?" Lisa asked, trying to coax something out of Jack. Still brandishing the gun, Jack stared at her. "Yes!" he said tersely, as if it were completely obvious. "Because of you, people know that I went to jail... I used to be someone in this town. People looked up to me - now, I'm... I'm nothing!" he said woefully, his voice tinged with bitter anger. "I've lost everything..." he wailed. "I've got nothing left to live for. And if I'm going... so are you." Lisa gulped - he was still serious. "You don't have to do this, you know. It's not the answer." she said, trying not to sound too desperate. Jack snorted at her. "Do you know how long they'd put me away for, just for kidnapping?" he raged. "I can't go back to jail, and I've got nothing to live for, so..." Slowly, his voice tailed off. Lisa tried to gauge Jack's mood - she knew she was on thin ice. "What was it like, in prison?" she asked him, unsure about whether it was a good idea or not - she decided that she had to keep him talking for as long as she could. There was a tense moment of silence as Jack brooding, searching for the words to articulate his experience. "I hated it." he said finally and almost shamefully, reluctant to admit to any sort of weakness or distress. He glowered at Lisa for a moment. "You must be happy to hear that, after what I did to you..." he said, bitterly. She did, but she wasn't going to tell him that. "Why *did* you do that... stuff to me?" she asked. "Was it because you hate me?" Jack crouched down in front of Lisa, still pointing the gun in her direction. "I hated your mother, and that bastard who took her away from me." he said quietly, now seemingly trying to hold back all of the rage inside him as he recalled everything that he had put Lisa through in the past. "And since I couldn't hurt them, I... I hit out at you." Lisa sighed quietly as she listened to Jack speak - she had waited years for an explanation of his reasons for hurting her. There were tears forming in Jack's eyes as he sat deep in thought - it was a sight she had never expected to see. There was still a terrible anger in his demeanour, but it was turned inwards now - Jack directed it at himself, and everything inside him that tortured him. "I've turned into my dad..." he muttered to himself. "Your dad?" probed Lisa. "He used to hit me too..." Jack said, the pain in his voice tangible as he struggled to expel the painful memories he had buried years ago. "I couldn't do anything right... he'd just beat me for no reason. And sometimes, at night, he'd get into bed with me, and... and..." That was as close as Jack could get. As he tried to put his supressed anguish into words, the demons of the past overtook him, possessing him. Lisa winced as she watched his composure fade again, flying into a terrifying, destructive rage. In a matter of seconds, he appeared to lose all control of himself. Screaming incomprehensibly like the possessed madman he had become, Jack charged around the room, throwing and smashing anything he could get his hands on. Even though Lisa had seen him lose his temper literally hundreds of times, this was different - it was much more intense and frightening than anything he had ever done before. The strange thing, Lisa observed, was that he didn't seem to take any notice to her at all - it was as if Jack couldn't see her, blinded by the red mist that had descended. It occured to Lisa that Jack must have carried this pain with him for years - there had been times when she herself had felt like succumbing to the bleak void of destruction to try to purge the agony of her past. She gained an insight into his mind - it was obvious to her that he had fought the dark forces that had made him lash out at her in the past for most of his life. This was all of the negative energy that had stored up inside him finally being vented instead of being passed on to someone else. The dizzying, frightening rage only lasted a few brief seconds, but the transformation had been terrifying - for that mercifully short space of time, Jack had been an animal, abandoning all of his rational thoughts momentarily, allowing the vengeful misery to fully envelope him briefly. Lisa realised, in her hightened state that when Jack had beaten her, it had been his outlet for some of this anger. Here, it was totally naked and raw - she could see just what a devastating effect it had on Jack, festering for years underneath the surface. No wonder he had fallen apart so dramatically. Gradually, Jack slumped back onto the floor, drained. The twisted anger had dissipated, and all that Jack had left was the bitter, mournful woe that leapt to the forefront after being so deeply buried in the past. As she watched Jack breaking down in tears, Lisa's opinion of him changed. She knew what it was like to carry around the pain, and the anger, from being abused all too well. She still hated him for what he did, but she understood what had caused him to do it now. Suddenly, it made sense to her - she couldn't forgive him for passing on his suffering to her, but she knew WHY he had now. "He'd hate to see me now, like this." Jack sobbed, shaking. "He used to knock shit out of me when I cried..." There was a long, painful pause. As much as she had suddenly had something of a bond, and some sympathy towards her kidnapper, Lisa still realised what danger she was in. He'd calmed down now, so it might be easier to reason with him. "I... I don't blame you. Now I know about that..." she said, benignly. "Please, don't do anything with the gun. If you tell the police about your dad, they'll understand." Although she was still in a perilous situation, Lisa didn't feel quite as scared for her life as she had been a few moments ago. She could see a vunerability in Jack now - it was obvious that he did feel some remorse for his actions. Maybe, just maybe, she could talk him down from this ledge... As the pair sat in quiet contemplation, the tense silence was interrupted by the loud, shuddering sound of a car's exhaust. Distracted, Lisa looked up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of blue light. Straining, she tried to see what was happening outside... could it be? Suddenly becoming animated, Jack shook himself out of his melancholia and stood up, grimacing at Lisa. "What are you looking at?" he snarled tensely, peering out of the window. Jack blocked her view, but Lisa could hear the loudspeaker crackling loudly. "This is the police. The house is surrounded - let the kid go!" ------ Outside, Kent Brockman was preparing his report from a safe distance for Channel 6- it had been a while since he'd done reported live. There wasn't normally anything newsworthy in this area, but *this* certainly was - there were plenty of police milling around, some of them armed, and he could see the girl's parents watching. Hopefully, he could get an interview with them - a bit of human interest would really look good. If everything went to plan (he was hoping that the nut would come out fighting, or the police would open fire - THAT would make great TV), he could win an award for this. Behind the camera, Brockman's director gave him the signal, and the anchorman spun into action. "Good evening, I'm Kent Brockman." he began - there was a good chance that this would be going coast-to-coast, so he wanted people to know who he was. "You join me outside this ordinary family home, in this ordinary street in Shelbyville. But the story that's unfolding behind me is anything but ordinary." "Police have been called here because it's believed that a deranged ex-convict is holding his step-daughter hostage inside this house. Jack Fitzgerald, a 37 year old former firefigter, is thought to have kidnapped the girl as she walked home from school this afternoon. An eyewitness took down the registration of his rented car, which was traced to the police to this address, where he lived with the child before she was taken into care. Police say he's armed and dangerous." Marge and Homer looked on at the unfolding drama with horror. Homer, in particular, had seen scenes like this so many times in movies, passively regarding them as meaningless entertainment. It seemed so surreal to be stuck in the middle of something REAL with such dire and frightening circumstances - he couldn't just switch off if he didn't like what was happening. Marge just stood, half-listening to Kent Brockman discussing the situation with the entire nation. She was frozen in terror, physically and mentally, unable to comprehend what was happening. Meanwhile, Brockman was interviewing a guest talking head just a few feet away from Marge. "With me is criminal psychiatrist Doctor Barry Lineker. Dr Lineker, what can you tell us about Fitzgerald?" The doctor addressed the camera, eager to find a chance to mention his book. "Well, Kent, I think it's clear that we're dealing with a deranged individual. Notice how he made no attempt to cover his tracks, and brought the girl here... he obviously has no fear of capture." "Would you say that she's in any great danger?" asked Brockman. "Absolutely, Kent." replied the doctor, with callous indifference, as if he were playing a part in one of Homer's movies. "In fact, given the assailant's mental instability, I wouldn't be too suprised if he's already done something terrible to the girl..." That was all that Marge could take - she could deny it to herself, but listening to someone discuss the possibilities next to her in such a detached manner, she couldn't pretend that it wasn't happening any more. Overcome with fear, she lost control of herself. Crying hysterically for Lisa, she ran forward past the TV host and his esteemed guest, eventually having to be restrained by a policewoman. As she did, Brockman was told via his earpiece that an advert break was due. "Join us in a few moments for the latest on this crisis." he said. The director gave him the all clear, and the report was over. While the police tried to save a young girl from a violent death a few yards away, Brockam was all smiles. It had been great TV. He'd win an award for this, he was sure. ------ Inside the house, Lisa was more frightened than ever. The police might have arrived now, and there may well be no escape for Jack, but they were missing the point - he didn't want to get out of this. And he didn't want her to, either. One pull of that trigger could make sure of that... Nervously, Lisa listened to the police reason with Jack. He was stood with his back to the wall next to the window, just out of range of any would-be snipers. She could see them now - there were about three patrol cars parked up, with policeman crouched down behind them. It was still a suprise to her, a less than pleasant one, that there was all this attention and bother because of *her*. "There's no need for this, Jack. Don't make this worse for yourself." barked the negotiator into his loudspeaker, aware he was walking on eggshells. It couldn't get any worse for Jack - there was only one way he could think of out of this situation now, and the only question was whether he would leave alone, or with Lisa. Not long ago, he had been waiting impatiently for his plan to come to fruition, but those remorseful doubts were beginning to creep in again now. Could he really kill Lisa in cold blood? Inside, Jack was numb, the goodness in his heart having been gradually eroded away over the last few agonising years. His life had descended to the point where death would be a merciful release for him, but he felt nothing anymore - liberated from hope and pride, Jack had no need to feel anything now. But, in spite of the hardness that now encased Jack, he couldn't bring himself to end Lisa's life. Bringing the deeply-hidden primal anguish of the abuse he had suffered himself as a child only made it harder to make her suffer - it had made him remember what it was like. She was crying now, shaking in fear as she coughed out sobs of terror. Jack stared at her, darkly, grief clouding his mind. His mind was a mess of conflicting emotions... his fear of further incarceration and dishonour, his self-loathing, and his angry desire to lash out at the world all pulled him towards killing both Lisa and himself. But now, in the pit of his despair and realisation, he could feel other forces pulling him away... he could remember what it had been like when he thought Lisa was his own - he'd tried so hard to provide for her, to bring her up the way he wished he had been. He'd wanted her to be so proud of him... until the accident, and learning of his wife's infidelity pushed him over the edge, he'd even managed to hide his demons from her. Eventually though, those demons had torn him apart. He had managed to destroy himself, and very nearly had done the same thing to Lisa, but he couldn't carry on doing it. He couldn't hurt her any more - she had a new life and a loving family, something he had longed for himself as a child. If he spared her, maybe he could bare to look at himself in the mirror again. Getting to his feet, Jack tossed the gun onto the floor, seemingly indifferent to the possibilities of it going off. Walking over to Lisa, he gently untied her hands. "I can't do it..." he said, dejectedly. Gratefully, Lisa leapt off the chair, rubbing her red wrists. As she did, Jack slumped into it, weeping. "So... what happens now?" Lisa asked, the adrenalin still pumping around her body. "I don't know... you go outside to your... your family." Jack said, bitterly. Despite sparing Lisa's life, he was still the same broken man, still facing either death or jail. Lisa sighed. As much as the insights into his mind had cooled the anger that she directed towards him imwardly, she still didn't have any particular feelings for him. And she knew just how tempremental he could be - it would be safe to assume that he'd change his mind again. Despite that, she actually felt sorry for him, now. For years, she had thought of him as this strong, remorseless monster who didn't feel a thing - now she could see that underneath his masculine aggression and drunken violence, he was just as emotionally scarred and vunerable as she was. After she'd been so used to seeing him exert complete control over her, he was quite a pathetic sight now. There was one more thing that Lisa needed to know. "Dad..." she began, ignored the pained look on Jack's face as she addressed him as her father. "Do you know whatever happened to my mom? I mean, after she left?" Jack looked at her for a moment, avoiding contact with her eyes. He was long past worrying about any of the consequences of what was happening, and this was something that he needed to tell her - he had considered it all along, and it would at least give him a sense of closure. But it was still hard. He took a deep breath. Lisa looked at him, expectant, but eager to escape to the safety of the waiting police outside. "I... I killed her." he said, softly. He KILLED her? thought Lisa. The impact of the revelation spread through her body slowly, filling her with horror. For all that Jack had done, she never imagined that he could kill anybody - let alone her mommy! She simply stood still in disbelief, hoping that she had somehow mistunderstood. "It was the night she was going to leave me." Jack said, uncovering some more guilt buried deep within the recesses of his mind. "We were arguing... I'd been drinking, and I lost my temper with her. When she told me about you, that you weren't mine, I hit her... I hit her, and she... as she feel, s-she hit her head on the table. She was dead..." Lisa couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her own mother had been killed years ago, and no-one had ever known? She felt sick, realising that she had resented her for years for not coming back, not knowing at the time that she was... she was... dead. Jack was still talking, trying to convince her that it was an accident, but Lisa wasn't listening anymore - all she could think of was her mom. As she did, she could feel something changing inside herself. Gradually, the cold fear was heating up, beginning to boil into white hot rage, and hate. Just a few seconds before, Lisa's fear of Jack was mixed with a new feeling, of pity, and an appreciation of a shared bond. Now, all that was gone, crushed by grief. It was replaced with a pure, vicious hate. Unaware of what was going on in Lisa's mind, Jack continued. "I... I panicked... I took her body, and threw it down Springfield Gorge... I never meant to kill her, I promise!" he stammered, his head in his hands. Looking up, he saw Lisa staring at him in disgust. "But I never killed your... father." he said, still carrying enough bile to spit out acknowledgement that Lisa wasn't his daughter. "I know what people said after he died, but it wasn't me. I was in the bar that night, and I may have hit him, but... I didn't KILL him!" Unbeknown to Lisa, there had been rumours for years that Jack had been responsible for Sean Bouvier's death, after finding out that he had been seeing his wife. But she wasn't thinking about that now - she had done whatever mourning she could for her father, but the pain for her mother was fresh. Jack's admitall of involvement in her father's death just strengthed her resolve. She could feel the same dark evil that had seemingly dragged Jack onto his downward spiral building up inside her. She was still shaking, but now because she was angry rather than afraid. It was becoming unbearable... she had to find some release for it. Out of the corner of her eye, Lisa saw a glint of light coming from something metallic. The gun. Of course. They'd think it was self-defense... Quickly, she dived to take hold of it, anticipating that Jack would try to stop her from getting to it - like Jack had wanted her to scream when he ungagged her, part of Lisa wanted him to try to stop her. Then, she'd have something - a gut reaction, rather than a rational reason, to shoot him. Taking hold of the gun, she turned, expecting to see some sort of reaction from Jack. To her suprise, he remained sat in the chair, staring blankly at her as she pointed the gun uneasily at him. "Go on." he sighed. "I deserve it." Lisa stood at him, pointing the gun at full stretch. She was shaking all over - it was lucky that she had two bullets, because it didn't look likely that she'd be able to hit him with just one. "I know..." she said, viciously, preparing to get revenge, for herself and her mother. But as the seconds passed like hours, it dawned on Lisa that she couldn't. She didn't particularly want to spare Jack's life - he had gone long beyond redemption now. But she realised that he knew that too - he WANTED to die, to be freed from his pathetic shadow of a life. Killing him wouldn't make him pay, or bring her mother back, or even help Lisa - she'd just be descending to his terrible level. She didn't want to do that. In those few seconds, Lisa realised something about Jack that had never crossed her mind before. He was a coward. He hid himself behind that masculine reputation that he had worked to earn himself, and after losing it, he withdrew into alcohol. When the primal anger and pain became too much for him to bear to handle, he took out his frustrations on those who he knew would never hit back - his wife and child. Now, he didn't want to face justice, or to answer for the terrible things that he had done. He didn't even have the courage to accept the blame for them. It was then that Lisa realised that the best punishment for Jack, and the best tribute to her mother, would be to rise above Jack's destructive hate, and force him to be brought to task for the atrocities that he, himself and no-one else, had commited. It was then that Lisa realised that she had beaten him. Slowly, but still keeping hold of the gun, Lisa put her arms down by her sides. "Goodbye, Jack." she said, leaving him behind as she walked to the door, and into the future. ------- EPILOGUE -------- Lisa stood over the grave. "SUSAN FITZGERALD 1963 - 1999. A loving wife, mother, and daughter." She couldn't really decide how she felt - she no longer felt the bitterness that she once had, now that she knew that her mommy didn't really abandon her like she had long since concluded, but she had long since accepted that she would never see her mother again, albiet for different reasons. She was upset that the woman that had given birth to her was dead now, and long dead, but she had another mommy now. Complicated emotions raced through her mind, but Lisa knew she had the strength to deal with them now. She was tired of feeling sad - her childhood and her entire life had been interrupted for years, and she was determined to make the most of what she had left now. Of course, that meant she was, technically, an orphan now - though that was far from the case in reality. Marge and Homer were as good parents as anybody could wish for, Maggie was lovely, and Bart... well, Bart was Bart. The funny thing was, she hadn't felt happy, or sad, when she found out that Jack had been found hanging in his cell. If anything, it made her feel more at peace - he was gone now, for good. She could draw a line forver under that part of her life. But she couldn't stop thinking about Jack. Maybe if he had been found by the right people like she had been, it would have been very different. Maybe if he had never given into the darkness and misery that Lisa knew all too well about from her own experiences, it might not have ended in such tragic circumstances. Whatever, she had spent years wishing she could return to her past, before Jack began his slow descend into the mire, and she didn't want to spend any more time looking back now. That chapter of her life was over. A new one was just beginning. Lisa was glad that she'd had this time on her own. It had cleared her mind. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her back, and the gentle breeze rippling in her skirt and through her legs. The flowers she held in her hands were still fragant. It was funny - here she was among the dead, and she had rarely felt so alive... "Lisa! LISA!!" she heard someone shout. Turning around, she saw a white figure coming towards her. "There you are - we've been looking for you!" Nurse Stanway said as she slowly walked towards Lisa. "Sorry, I just wanted to come and... see mom." Lisa said, embarrassed. Nurse Stanway smiled. "It's okay." she said, kindly. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, I am now." Lisa said, her voice bolstered with the strength that comes from being at peace with oneself. "Oh, you look so beautiful in that dress!" she sighed contentedly. "Just think, I'm gonna have to call you Nurse Weir from now on..." The nurse smiled. "Lisa, call me Stephanie." she said warmly. After sharing a moment of silent reflection, the sonorous church bells began to ring loudly. "Oh, c'mon Lisa." Stephanie said, suddenly animated and excited. "We can't have a wedding without a flower girl!" Lisa giggled, and took her hand. ------ It looked so different now... it wasn't how she had remembered it at all. Lisa looked around the house, half listening to the estate agent's empty claims. She'd spent so many happy hours here as a child with her parents. She'd spent a lot of her adult life trying to blot out her childhood, but she finally felt secure enough to face up to it now. As she explored her old bedroom, she pondered what course her life may have taken if her family had stayed her, if her father had never known about her mother's affair, if, if if... It was something she'd explored an awful lot, especially in expensive therapy sessions, but she had eventually come to the conlusion that ifs didn't matter very much - life had made things hard for her, but she was fiercely proud of what she'd done for herself. Those years of hard work had finally paid off, and she had pretty much everything she could wish for now - a loving husband, a wonderful son, and an interesting career... You had to make the best of what you were given, she had realised. She firmly believed that she had done that - instead of allowing the bitterness and anger to get on top of her, she had risen above it. It's never to late to change the road you're on. "So, what do you think Senator Jansen?" the agent asked. Senator Jansen, thought Lisa... that would take some getting used to. "I'll take it." she said. As the besuited young men went outside to make a few calls and finalise the deal, Lisa called her son over. "Why are we buying this house, mom? We've already got one!" he said as he raced over to his mother. "This is where I lived when I was little, Mark." she said, ruffling his hair. She took hold of his shoulders, and looked proudly at him. Eleven years old... she had tried to kill herself when she was that age. There wasn't a day that passed by when she didn't thank God that he didn't have to go through any of what she had. There were two ways for a victim of abuse (how she hated thinking of herself as a "victim") to raise their own children, she thought. Either they perpetrated the vicious circle (as Jack had done), or they broke it, and cherised their children with all the love and affection that they themselves had been denied - Lisa definitely fell into the second category. She let him get away with murder - he had inherited her artistic leanings and his father's temperament. He was a talented painter, even at his tender age, but he often destroyed his works in fits of temper. She knew she really should put her foot down when he did that, but she couldn't help herself. She adored him how he was. "Mark?" she said softly, taking his hand. "What mom?" "I love you." There was a pregnant pause as Mark squeezed his mother's hand even more tightly. "Love you too, mom." ------- THE END -------