Lisa opened the front door slowly, hoping to not draw her mother's attention. She leaned in, her head just barely poking in. Her mother wasn't within sight. If she was lucky her mother wouldn't realize what time it was. The house betrayed her, as she shut the door. Alerted by the comically loud squeaking of the door's rusty hinges her mother called out.

"Lisa? Is that you?"

From the sound of it she was in the kitchen, probably slaving away on some meal that her fat slob of a father wouldn't appreciate. Not that her brother was ever grateful either. Lisa shook her head, she didn't want to think about Bart right now.

With an effort she tried to sound cheery, "Yeah mom, it's me. Just going to, you know, study." As quickly as she could without making too much noise Lisa started up the stairs.

"Where is your brother?"

Pausing mid-way up, Lisa took a breath and tried to sound natural, "He said he was going to hang with some friends." Footsteps exited the kitchen and headed towards her. Cursing herself for wearing a t-shirt instead of her usual long-sleeved shirts Lisa turned to the side. Long gone where the years she wore that cute red dress and pearls, now seventeen, her main concern at the moment was hiding her right arm.

"Did he say he'd be home for dinner?" Her mother now stood at the bottom of the stairs. Lisa swallowed past the lump in her throat, just wishing her mother would leave her alone.

"I'm assuming he will be. He didn't mention eating out tonight."

Trying to walk up the stairs without turning would be difficult, and look suspicious. Instead Lisa waited, silently wishing her mother would head back to her cooking. Without a word her mother shrugged and turned to leave. Lisa sighed and turned to head the rest of the way up.

"What's that on your arm? A bruise!" Her mother's voice sounded concerned, but quickly became angry. "Have you been fighting?" Lisa froze, trying to think of an excuse. "Lisa! Answer me!"

"It's nothing okay! I," she paused wincing as her lame excuse came out, "fell, on the way home."

It was obvious from the look that her mother didn't believe her excuse. "Did you fight with Bart again?" The anger was gone, replaced by a patronizing tone. "How many times have I told you Lisa? Good girls-"

Lisa cut her mother off. "Good girls don't fight! I know, Mom. Lay off."

"What did you do to upset Bart this time?"

"Why is it always me!" Lisa snapped. "Did it ever occur to you that I might not have done anything wrong?"

"You're supposed to be the smart one Lisa," Her mother's voice rose to match Lisa's. "Your poor brother doesn't have all the advantages you do. It's no wonder he gets upset when you lord over how much better you are then him." It was too much; Lisa didn't even bother to reply and just continued up the stairs. "Lisa! Don't you dare walk away from me. I am talking to you young lady!"

She just continued until her bedroom door was locked behind her. Her mother continued to yell from the bottom of the stairs. "Don't think you can just hide away in your room Lisa! You can't expect to start a fight and not get in trouble," her mother trailed off distracted by something. "Oh no! My casserole!"

After kicking off her shoes Lisa climbed onto her bed. It wasn't fair, they always treated Bart different. No matter what he did no punishment lasted through dessert, and most times he received no punishment at all. When it was her though it didn't matter how good her grades were, or how hard she tried to be good. A single mark on a test, voicing her opinion or even being on the wrong end of Bart's fist and it all fell apart.

She used to feel bad for Bart. The teachers always looked the other way and said nothing about the bruises around Bart's neck. Many of them even silently applauded her father for "putting that horrible child in his place." Though it felt like those years lasted forever Bart grew stronger and fast enough to stay out of their father's reach. When he entered middle school he seemed to do better, his grades stayed above failing and he gained new friends. Lisa knew better than anyone else that her brother wasn't as dumb as he seemed. He just let everyone believe he was dumb because it let him get away with so much more.

Lisa shifted her legs trying to not aggravate more bruises. Downstairs she heard voices. Her father must be home, and by the sound of it he wasn't happy. His heavy footsteps climbed the stairs and stopped in front of her door.

"LISA! This is your father and I order you to come out here right now!" Lisa almost snorted at the fact going up the stairs had winded him. "You need to apologize to your brother for fighting with him!"

"I will not. I've done nothing wrong."

Her mother's muffled voice said something.

"WHAT!" Her father yelled. " Dinner is burned because of you! Now you've done it. No dessert for you."

The absurdity of using that as a punishment at her age was just too much. Lisa laughed angrily. "Is that all you care about? Food!"

"Just for that you get no dinner."

"I'm not hungry!" Her father had no comeback for that. The concept of declining food was beyond his grasp. He stuttered a few times before huffing off.

Lisa waited for her anger to subside, hoping she could fall asleep. She had no luck, and still sat wide awake staring at the ceiling after she heard everyone else go to bed.

"Screw this," she muttered under her breath. Quietly Lisa slid off her bed, grabbed a coat and slipped it on before opening her window. It squeaked a little, but not loud enough to alert anyone. Before she could change her mind she had snuck out and was heading down the dark street. Lisa didn't bother to look back.