A one shot about eight year old Bart nearly dying but…Bob change his mind. No slash, although it COULD be implied if you think that way lol.
I thought of this in a dream I had. Very odd dream.
Disclaimer: If it WERE mine, I'd stolen Sideshow Bob already.
And to any people who think Bart is NOT abused, watch the whole 19 seasons again because he is. Although they try to make it look funny, he gets choked quite a lot, meaning he is abused physically. I know enough people who were harmed in a similar fashion so I would know what is and what is not abuse.
Young Bart Simpson lay in his bed, tossing and turning. His attempt to sleep had proven fruitless, which upset him even more. Of course this shouldn't have shocked him, for it was beginning to become more like a routine over the past week; toss and turn, get upset, try to daydream, and finally at five sleep…only to be awaken at six.
At first, he didn't mind only get an hour or two (if he were lucky) of sleep. He usually slept during lunch and recess anyway. And though it didn't really make up for the lack of sleep the night before, he left him energetic before bedtime once more. On the fourth or fifth day, when he laid in bed exhausted but unable to sleep, he wondered what would happen to him. Would his body just shut down in the middle of the day, during something important or life saving?
Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't explain why his mind spun with horror, leaving him awake for days on end, did I?
About a week ago, Robert "Sideshow Bob" Terwilliger escaped from his maximum security prison. Normally this wouldn't have worried Bart, not as bad as he was now, but matters went worse. He had gotten notes in the mail, threat letters. This had happened before with blood, but this time was different. It described in detail of how Bart would be tortured and then die.
Needless to say, this was one of the reasons why he was kept up so late at night. Out of twelve letters, the one that was absolutely horrible was the sixth one. It was where Bart would be tied upside down to a ceiling in a cave, hanging with bats that were rabid. When they'd bite him, Bob would laugh and slice his skin. He'd make long and slow cuts on his stomach, his arms and everywhere else that was delicate, making it nothing but pain.
So now it was the seventh, or was it eight?, night of tossing and turning. His parents were told about this but they couldn't do anything except give him sleeping pills; and even those failed! Lisa tried all sorts of tricks to 'sooth his subconscious worries' like warm milk, hypnotize and some other crap. None of it worked. If anything, the milk backfired for it had been as sour as salt. His mother Marge couldn't do anything and, worse of all, when Homer found out he strangled the boy, saying he just wanted attention.
That was probably the worse of it all. Bart had been choked by his father one too many times and he was sick of it. It used to hurt his feelings but now…now he just felt numb. Sometimes, like now, he wished he had a good father to sit with him and protect him.
Groaning with depression, he turned on his side with his back facing the window and his front facing the door. He was sick of the moonlight casting shadows on the tree which threw shadows in his room! He was tired of staring at the tree, wondering when Sideshow Bob would climb up, break his window, and steal him!
So now he stared at the plain door which was shined on by the moonlight. Of course this did not help young Bart at all. Now he was picturing Bob throwing the door open. Or worse…stabbing the door with a knife. He shivered.
He let a sob break free for only a second, muttering bitterly, "Why does he hate me?! He's the one who did something bad, not I! I…I wish I were dead! I hate this suspense, I…" He stopped when he realized there was a shadow on the door; Sideshow Bob's hair gave it away.
The ten year old sat up and was about to spin around when he felt thin string wrap around his throat. It was strong and sharp, cutting into his skin slowly. Piano string? No, too sharp. What could it be?
Grabbing the string, he gave a soft hiss that decreased his amount of air. That string cut into his fingers! He knew then and there that if he struggled against it, it would cut his head clean off. Bob wasn't wasting time, he thought with fear.
This was it…he'd die tonight. He'd get eternal rest, a little more sleep than he needed. He wouldn't be able to say bye to his family or that he loved them. He would die because his horrible father couldn't stay up to protect him.
Tears appeared in his eyes against his will. Thinking of his father made him remember all the times he was choked. Oh Bob either knew or luckily guessed that this style of killing would destroy him! Sobs left his lips, tears falling rapidly as he began to loose air. He couldn't control his emotions at this moment, he was only ten!
Sideshow Bob looked down, a triumphantly smug grin plastered on his face. Finally he'd win! He should have felt joy, a sense of victory and sadistic humor when he saw Bart's face but…he didn't. Instead, when he saw the young lad's tearful face, he felt pity and regret as well as guilt.
For the past week, he had been spying on the boy. He watched him rest during school where he knew Bob couldn't get him since he was in public. He studied him as he tried to sleep every night. He studied him from his hide out in the tree house. Of course no one noticed for his father didn't seem to care.
However, Bob felt bad for this. Why? Because he expected the sleep deprived tortured boy to die while struggling, not crying because he was reminded of his father choking him. Slowly yet quickly, his grip on the string loosened.
He threw the blood soaked string to the ground, noticing that it was probably from his fingers earlier. Bart coughed and coughed, trying to suck in air while he cried so relentlessly. Unsure of what to do, Bob felt something in his heart melt, something in his mind turn. He wrapped his arms around the boy and held him firmly, reassuringly.
Either Bart was delusional from lack of sleep and recent shock, or he just wanted to be held. He stayed in the older man's arms, crying loudly but quietly enough for the parents not to hear. The body that held him was warm and offering comfort…something he rarely found.
Soon, from crying, he fell into a much needed sleep.
As Bob placed him under his covers, he couldn't help but think about what the young boy had said before he strangled him. Why did he want Bart dead? True he was the one who did wrong, but was this not the man who put him in jail, who stole away a good few years of his life?!
No…not a man…a boy. An abused boy who cried out for attention by pranking others.
As the sun came up so many hours later, Bob scribbled something on a piece of paper and slid it into his hands. As silent as he was when he came in, he jumped on the tree branch, leaving the window open, and crawled up to the tree house. He'd leave when it was dark.
When Bart awoke, opening the paper, he wondered what threat Bob had given him now. What scenario would keep it awake this time? But as he read it, he felt his limbs go weak with surprise and relief.