A/N: OK. I'm having immense writer's block over here, so I decided to write this, after putting on a play of To Kill a Mockingbird. I have always thought about Mayella and what she feels like in the courtroom. I actually feel sorry for her, because it's most likely the case that Bob Ewell is feeding her lies. She doesn't know what love is. It's kind of weird, I guess. So, anyways, I will try to update my other stories, but until then...
"And when he's riled, does he ever beat you?"
My Daddy's lookin' at me now. An' he ain't sayin' nothin', but I can see it in his eyes, what he's tryna tell me.
"Don't worry, darlin'. You know I never beat you. You can say it," he's sayin'. So I speak out, firmly.
"My paw never touched a hair on my head," I say. Mr Finch looks surprised. But I know what the truth is. 'Cause my Daddy's never beaten me. He tells me that all good Daddies do it to their daughters. An' all good daughters let them.
An' that's the God-fearin' truth. Right?
'Cause when he grabs me round the neck, he tells me it's fine. If he comes in drunk at night, when the chillun are asleep, it's normal for Daddies to do that. If he touches me, strokes me, kisses me, it's part of life. I never put up a protest. I let him do it. 'Cause that's usual.
But it hurts, sometimes. It hurts so much. But my Daddy says it's part of the process. He says that I'm meant to feel pain for it to work. And I want to be a good daughter, I do, but when he comes at me an' his breath's all sour an' he breaths down my neck, it doesn't feel right. I only do it to be a good child.
My Daddy says he loves me. Every time he goes inside of me, he whispers in my ear that he loves me. I thought I loved Tom Robinson. That's why I kissed him. That's the only way I know how to love. There ain't nothin' wrong with that, is there?
My paw can see me waverin', an' he's tellin' me with his eyes to look stronger and be more believable. I remember the conversation I has with him last night.
"Mayella, if you're gettin' confused, you gotta remember what to tell Mr Finch. You gotta make sure he believes that Tom Robinson was the one beatin' and rapin' you."
"But Daddy-"
"No, baby. You listen to me. You tell 'em that they're all stinkin' cowards if they can't protect you. Their fancy ways ain't gonna do nothin' for you. If they can't see the plain truth in front of 'em, they're blind cowards. They ain't gonna mess around with my baby girl."
"Daddy, did Tom Robinson really rape me?"
"Sure, honey. He raped you."
"But… doesn't that mean he's touchin' me without me sayin' he can?"
"Ye-e-es," Daddy replies slowly.
"Then… ain't you rapin' me?"
A pause.
"If they ask you that, Mayella, you tell 'em that you paw never touched a hair on you head".
Mr Finch is askin' that black nigger some questions now. That Tom is tellin' him what really happened. The truth. An' that's makin' me think.
My Daddy says that what he does to me ain't wrong. But I promised to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothin' but the truth, on the Bible. Am I doin' the right thing, sendin' Tom Robinson to jail?
Did I say everythin' right, Daddy?
Did I make him believe it?
I hope you're happy, Daddy.
'Cause an innocent man's gonna pay for my lies.
And I did it for you.
Well. Hmm. That's.. interesting. I didn't quite expect that.
Please review this because I haven't really written the poor and vulnerable viewpoint before and definitely not in a Southern American script. I want to know what you think!
Ta ra from your favourite banana x