No. This can't be happening. I'm standing in the doorway of our little home in the dump, looking at a Mr. Heck Tate who has his hat in his hands. He addresses me as Miss Ewell, and tells me that Daddy fell on his knife while attempting to hurt the Finch kids. Burris behind me mutters something about Scout Finch, and how he had seen her stand up to a teacher in her first grade classroom, almost three years ago. All I know about the two of them is that they sat in the colored balcony at the trial, along with their friend Dill. This all becomes clearer and clearer, and I know that it is all my fault. If I hadn't… If I didn't… no, no. I'll tell you from the beginning, the story of Maycomb County's biggest trial in quite a while.
My flowers were always my outlet. With all Daddy did to me, they were all I had that I could say were my own creation. I kept the young 'uns away from them, and whenever someone came by for some reason they compared them to Miss Maudie's flowers in town. I would water them each and everyday, and sometimes I would ask a passing Negro to help me out a bit. But one day Daddy needed me to chop some wood, and I saw a man come by that I had seen once or twice before. He had a limp arm, but just by looking at him you could tell that he was stronger than any ox. So I asked him to do this for me, and he said that he'd be delighted. Yet instead of going and getting the penny or nickel I would pay him immediately, I sat on the blocks holding up the Model-T and talked to him while he worked. He was a real gentleman, and treated me with the most respect I had received in my life. When he was done he tipped his hat and refused payment, he said that since the children didn't help none it was his pleasure. I started having jobs for him once a week, always offering him money that he would never take. I always stayed out there with him, and he became my one friend. I never left home, not for anything. Soon enough I fell in love with him, and hatched a plan, the plan that would hold my downfall from grace in my Daddy's eyes.
One day I told him that I needed him to fix the door. All the children were out to eat ice cream in the town, a treat that I gave to them with money I salvaged from the dole after Daddy had bought all his beer. So when Tom stood up on a chair to fix a problem that wasn't even there, I couldn't stand it anymore and flung my arms around his waist, asking him to get down. Thinking that there was something wrong he did, and I took him in my arms and kissed him. "Only time I eva kissed a man before, other than what happens with Daddy… might as well you be the first as you the only one eva been kind to me." I says, looking at him. He backed away, mumbling about how my Daddy wouldn't want me with a black man, and that he'd be lynched if someone found this out. But I didn't care, and I leaned in to kiss him again when I suddenly saw Daddy at the window, coming in and yelling at me about how I was a disgrace.
Tom ran, and I was alone to deal with Daddy beating on me. He blacked my eye and bruised my face, rung me round the neck, and beat on my arms. After he was done he told me that he'd have to get rid of that Negro, and that I would have to tell Sheriff Heck Tate that Tom had raped me. I was to say that it was the first time I had asked him to do something for me, and that I was going to get a nickel for him when he attacked me and took advantage of me. At first I refused, but after a few more hits I agreed to the lie. So Daddy went and got Sheriff Tate, who came in, looked me over, and went to look for Mister Tom Robinson.
Mr. Gilmer slammed a fist on the table. "Judge Taylor dang went and put Atticus Finch on the defense. If anyone can keep that Negro from the death penalty, it's Finch. What we need is a clear cut story, one we stick to and never waver from. For this we will need to recall every word that you said to Heck, Bob, so that we won't have inconsistencies. And Mayella, you're gonna want to look mighty chaste." He said, looking at me fiercely. Here I muttered something about not being able to lie, looking straight at Mr. Gilmer and avoiding Daddy. Just looking over the evidence, Mr. Gilmer would know that there was no rape, anyone could. But we would have an all white jury, and they couldn't, they wouldn't rule in the favor of a negro, so I was safe.
"We won't have you say much, Mayella. You just get up there and tell your story, answering questions from me and the judge, but skirting those from Atticus. Say that you're intimidated or afraid of what might happen or afraid of being tricked. Just make Atticus look like the bad man here, like the bully." He said, and our little meeting went on. The trial was in three days, and a tear ran down my cheek as I realized that if we lost, we would be in trouble with the law for lying and then what would happen to the little ones?
"Robert E. Lee Ewell…" came the voice, and Daddy walked up to take the oath. It was just a lie; the whole thing was a lie. While he spoke I thought about Heck Tate's testimony before him, and how there would be a few inconsistencies since we didn't rehearse with Heck present.
Daddy made a joke, trying to win the crowd over. But Judge Taylor wouldn't put up with it, and I could tell that he wasn't on our side. Daddy's story ended, and then came the questions from Atticus.
"Did you, during all this running, run for a doctor?" Mr. Finch said, and my heart fell down to meet my stomach. Daddy said a lot about never calling a doctor ever for anything, but Atticus looked content. Daddy then agreed to everything Heck Tate had said about my bruises, which turned out to be a mighty mistake.
Yet next came what I didn't expect: literacy questions. Having him write his name, Atticus proved that Daddy was left handed. Of course, how hadn't we seen this? Daddy hit my right eye, but Tom wouldn't be able to do that because of his limp left arm. If this was a white-on-white trial we were as good as done, but it wasn't. Running a hand over the tenderness left by the bruise, I was fairly nervous.
And now it was my turn. I wavered on my way up to take the oath, my face growing paler and paler as I swore to tell the truth, which I wasn't going to. Yet as I sat down I gained some strength just by looking at the people. The whites below me looked up at me with sorrow, as though I was a martyr. Looking up at the colored balcony, I saw them looking at me like scum. Yet then I saw three white kids sitting next to the Reverend, two of them brother and sister while the other was a good friend.
Mr. Gilmer started me by asking where I had been that night. Easy enough, I didn't have to lie yet. So I stated that I had been on the front porch. Asked to specify what porch (a rather stupid question, really, we only have one) I told them the front. Then I was asked to recount the events by Judge Taylor. Looking first at Daddy and then to Mr. Gilmer, I burst into sobs. Judge Taylor let me have a good cry, and then asked me what was wrong. I said that I was afraid, and he said of who. So I replied that I didn't want Atticus Finch to trick me like he did Daddy. Judge Taylor went into how Mr. Finch wasn't here to trick me or scare me, and if he did then he himself was there to stop that.
So on I went, telling the yarn dramatically, pointing out the man I loved, still did, to get him convicted and then killed. On and on I went with the tale, until it got to the end and it was time for questions. I answered those Mr. Gilmer asked me until he got to the one about taking full advantage of me. I thought of crying again, looking more innocent. But instead I said that "he done what he was after". Mr. Gilmer then said something about "Big Bad Finch", which was a reminder not to answer his questions.
As Atticus Finch got up, I tried to look afraid. When he got up there, he called me "Miss Mayella", perfect. I became cold to him, and made a point of saying that he was a mockin' me. The Judge didn't quite put with this, but I persisted.
We cat and moused back and forth, me and Atticus did. But then came a personal blow, about friends. I had only had one friend ever, and he was now on trial for the rape of me. While I was unseated, he tricked me into admitting that Daddy hit me while he was drunk. More cat and mousing, and I was done. Next came Atticus's one witness, and I watched as the man I loved took the stand.
Tom told the truth, and my whole insides fell. He looked down at me remorsefully, because he knew that he was a dead man and that I hadn't wanted this. He finished up his story, and Atticus started his closing statement. Yet it was interrupted by a black woman, and I saw two of the white children on the balcony stand up when he called for his two children, the third walking after them.
After this was settled, the closings went on. Sitting still in my spot, I watched the jury go out. We expected them to be right back, yet every minute past ten that they stayed in there was worse and worse for our cause. For hours we waited, and finally they returned again. But when they came back, it was with a conviction, not acquittal. We were safe.
I don't know much about what happened during the next year. I only saw Daddy late at night, so all I knew was that he had threatened Atticus on the sidewalk one day. Then later came news of Tom Robinson getting shot trying to escape from the prison he was to be kept in until his execution date. So after that, I saw Daddy threatening Helen Robinson, the wife of the late Tom.
But on Halloween next, Daddy went to town late at night. He waited for the Finch children to make their way home, and when they did he attacked them. That was when he fell on his knife and killed himself, letting the children go free. So as I heard Heck Tate pull out of our yard, a tear fell down my cheek and I told Blake to go hunt us some food, we needed some dinner.