The feeling almost made me want to go outside, but I froze with my hand on the brass knob of the front door. I knew I was safe here, no one can harm me or judge me anymore than they did so many years ago. I've grown used to it; this confinement, this place I'm destined to spend the rest of my life in. So much so that it's become like second skin, an acquired taste.
Every time I peek out my window and see them playing in their yard, hear their echoing laughter, and the sheer innocence of it all fills me with an emotion I was all too familiar with: longing. Looking back on it, I don't regret what I did, but the yearning to be young again just begs me to open the door and breathe the summer air just one more time.
But, I know; those kids will learn one day, eventually turning their backs one like everyone else.
As I looked out my window and saw the flames licking down Miss Maudie's house, I saw one of Atticus's kids shivering. I don't know what possessed me to do it, but once again, I found myself with a hand in my front doorknob. Did I really want this? Was I going to break my parole for one little girl?
My internal conflict ended with the click of the old wooden door and the moonlight pooling in my front porch. Being careful that no one would see me, I went around back, making a circle from my front porch to Miss Maudie's front yard.
It was so dark that the flames barely illuminated more than twenty feet from the house. As I approached where Scout was standing, I felt myself quickening my pace. She was shaking uncontrollably as if it were winter.
I draped the blanket over her, quickly making my way back to my house as soon as I did. Even though the others had turned their back on me, I still felt human; human enough to help a child.
Even as I watch them now from afar, their mere presence and fascination with me is enough to make me feel a twinge of joy and the hint of a smile on my lips, helping Scout was a way to return the favor.
I smiled discretely to myself and closed the door.