A/N: I originally wrote this for an english roleplaying assessment and thought I may as well upload it

Life in Maycomb country for me was pretty hard. No one stopped to give me a chance. Why would they? I'm a Ewell. Being a girl, some people felt sorry for me, as I passed them buy I'd here them say, "Oh there goes poor Mayella, such an unlucky girl". That's me. Unlucky. It's not my fault I never went to school. Not my father's fault we never have enough to eat. No. Just luck. Everyday was a struggle, I'd have to look after my younger siblings, while our father was out getting drunk or causing trouble.

But there was one person. Someone in this lonely town that didn't hate me for no reason. Someone who didn't avoid me, who didn't ignore me when I asked for help. Tom Robinson. I'm not stupid, though nearly everyone thinks I am. I knew, I think, deep down, that I could never be with Tom. He was married, for one. Might've had a child. And he was black. I was worried, back then, that my father might somehow find out. Though I never spoke of him, he might somehow know that I was thinking about him, that I watched him on his way to work, and his way back. I used to think that.

Then I realized, it doesn't matter. I was never going to have a life in Maycomb, no one would give me a chance. It wouldn't matter what I did, because no one would care, I'd live forever with my father, he'd abuse me for the rest of my life, no one would care, and then I'd die. That's it. So it doesn't matter if I talk to him. Talk to Tom Robison, maybe invite him inside the house to do a few jobs. As long as he never found out, as long as my father never saw a thing.