It always started with his shadow. A comical silhouette, were it not for the circumstances. He was behind him, as he always was in Bart's nightmares, ready to to take him by surprise, ready to strike, like the snake that he was. This time the shadow cast by the former clown was not eerily large, nor surreal. It was life-size and sharp, incredibly realistic, as though he was standing mere inches behind him. Bart spun around in panic, ready to face him, but no one was there. Yet the shadow engulfed him, pressing a ghostly hand to his mouth to prevent him from screaming. A muffled cry was all the sound he could make, and a dark laugh was all that reached his ears. But he knew it was Sideshow Bob, every time.

Bart woke up in a sweat, his heart still racing from the impending danger. He turn the lights on and his eyes darted around as he tried with all his might to process the fact that he was in his bed, safe in his room in the middle of the night. He dropped his head back onto his pillow as he was calming down, and sighed. He was letting his fear get to his head.

For the past few days, few weeks even, he had been seeing... something. He could have sworn it was Bob, his long face lurking around wherever Bart was, in the streets, out with his friends, sometimes even when he was at school. But he could never be sure. A growing sense of paranoia had been gnawing at him, so much so that he started questioning his sanity.

His breathing eventually settled to a more normal rhythm. Bart, now seventeen years old, closed his eyes in his bedroom, surrounded by his childhood toys, and more teenage-related stuff he had gathered over the years. But despite the time that had passed, Sideshow Bob was still a constant in his life, a threat he could never be sure to get rid of. The former performer, ever since he had tried to frame Krusty, had sworn vicious revenge on him for calling him out on live television and sending him to prison. After numerous attempts on his life, Bart knew he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Not even prison would deter him, as he'd proven many times with his escapes, or simple manipulation of the legal system.

He might be going crazy, seeing Bob everywhere. The only other person he had talked to about him was Lisa. She was worried, sure, but it might have been more about his mental health than the presence of his stalker. She did her best to make him feel better, but she couldn't do anything about the recurring nightmares he had been having lately.

The rest of the time, Bart had to pretend everything was fine. His bad grades were fine, his poor social life was fine, his falling down from his former glory was fine. Everyone had been tired of the pranking prodigy. Springfield had had enough of El Barto. His younger sisters had done more in their shorter lives than Bart ever did, and living in their shadows after standing in the spotlight was a hard slap in the face. But he only had himself to blame, which was what everyone thought. Going to school wasn't even interesting anymore, all the fun had been sucked out of it by the pressure of going through with it. He still went, most of the time, when he didn't hang around at the park with his buddies. The only bright side he found in it all was that his parents had stopped expecting anything from him beyond school. It was a relief, but it hurt him. It hurt him in his pride more than he wanted to admit to anyone.

So each day was like the previous one for Bart Simpson, Springfield's famous nothing. School, hanging around with friends, home, sleep. He didn't expect much from the rest of the world anymore, and vice versa. As he was trying to wrap his head around his math homework before dinner, wondering what the point of it all even was, a knock came at his bedroom door.

"Come in," he mumbled as his vision became blurry with his complete loss of focus.

"Hey, Bart," Lisa said as she walked in and closed the door behind her.

"Hey," he replied, repressing an annoyed groan and giving up entirely on his work. "Come to see me try to get something done? Well, you're in bad luck."

"What? No, I'm here because I'm worried about you."

"You are?" he asked skeptically. His sister and he weren't as close as they were as children, and sometimes he missed those times of carefree innocence. The rest of the time he found he couldn't really talk with her without feeling like shit anymore.

"Of course, Bart. Because I know you're worried sick about... Sideshow Bob. Well, I did some research about him." Bart was all ears. He swallowed his pride and listened intently to his younger sister. "So, apparently Bob was released from prison nearly three years ago, and in all legality too. You see, you can rest easy."

Bart's stomach felt suddenly queasy, despite Lisa looking confident about her being supportive. "Rest easy? How can I rest easy? Sideshow Bob's free! And he's definitely out there!"

"No, no!" she interrupted in a reassuring tone. "Don't you see? Bob has been free for years. Why would he be trying to get you now? There's no way he's out there following you after all this time!"

"How- How can you be sure, Lis? He's around, I know what I saw!"

"What did you see, really?"

Bart pouted. He didn't want to admit it to her, but he was not sure about the criminal lurking around. Only sneaking figures here and there, or maybe not, but mainly a really bad feeling in his guts. "I think I saw him... Look, I don't know how to explain it. I just know, and I've been having these nightmares."

"Well, you can have nice dreams again, because there's no reason for Bob to come back, alright? You've grown up, and he's probably trying to live his life now," Lisa argued, trying her best to make him feel better. "It's probably just pressure getting to you, your imagination playing tricks on you..."

"Pressure?" he snapped at her. "What pressure are you talking about? It's not like you guys even expect me to finish high school, let alone go to college! We're not all like you, drowning in letters of recommendation or... or having any kind of useful talent! Go and be bright somewhere else, you're blinding us, the stupid, gullible people who get all worked up over nothing." His anger kept building up and he turned back to his desk, where the homework was waiting to be done. He took the paper and crumpled it up to throw it right into the trash.

Lisa gasped angrily. "You know what, Bart? I don't have to listen to you and your jealousy, I will be bright somewhere else! Just don't come to me if you're having nightmares, I did warn you!"

The door was slammed behind her, leaving Bart behind at his desk. He was still fuming, but his growing fear was coming back in full force. Sideshow Bob was roaming free, and he was probably after his blood.

One afternoon at school, Bart was staring out the window, easily distracted by the outside world. He was still mulling over his exchange with his sister from the day before, and he couldn't say he didn't feel guilty for having lost his temper. Lisa was trying to help him, but she didn't seem willing to understand his point of view at all. The teacher's voice was resonating from far away when he noticed a tall figure crossing the street some way away. He instantly gave it all his focus, observing how the figure was wearing a hood and was looking all around him. When the face was revealed, Bart sighed in relief, the person looked nothing like Sideshow Bob. Perhaps Lisa was right, he might be getting nervous over nothing. He recalled her point - why would Bob be looking for him now after all the years he'd gone silent? Vague impressions created small fears, which created nightmares, then paranoia, where everything was making everything else worse. Bart laughed quietly as he realized how ridiculous he had been. But his laugh was still unenthusiastic.

That night, Bart decided he'd had enough. It was well past his bedtime, but he climbed out the window onto the nearby tree, letting the cool night air hit his body. He hadn't been able to sleep, too scared of having more nightmares. He considered going to a therapist, or to get sleeping pills, but for now, all he needed was a quiet walk. It used to be a habit of his, one he tended to give up on nowadays. It usually did him wonders, it was an occasion to let his mind wander into nothingness, observing the silent neighborhood, unbothered by the agitated activities of the day, the only time where doing nothing was perfectly acceptable.

He jumped off the ladder to his treehouse, but missed his landing and crashed onto the grass in a thud. He quickly got back onto his feet and looked at the windows, but luckily no light came on. He crossed the backyard and was about to run off into the night, but he was forced to a sudden stop when a hand clasped over his mouth, another keeping a firm grip over his shoulder.

"Hello, Bart," a deep voice sang in his ear.

Every alarm in his body went off. It was as though all the nightmares he'd been having had been some form of training for this dreaded moment. In sheer panic and filled with adrenaline, Bart found the incredible strength to slither right down and under the arms keeping him in place. He stumbled a couple of steps away, then turned around, wide-eyed, trying to process the encounter.

Sideshow Bob's unmistakable silhouette was standing there in the dark backyard, only this time it was more than real. Dressed all in black, his palmtree-shaped hair still a dead giveaway, the maniac looked almost as startled as he was. A scowl appeared on his face and he abruptly leaped forward. Before Bart even had time to react, a sudden blow met his left temple and everything went dark.