Reflections of A Recluse
A/N: So, this was a project that I did for my English class after we read To Kill A Mockingbird. We had to pick a character out of the book and write a narrative on how they would feel about a certain point in the story. I picked Boo Radley, because we never really know what was going on in his head. Most people portrayed him as a raving lunatic, or someone of little intelligence, but I feel that Boo was highly intelligent. Anyway, please enjoy this while I figure out what the hell to do with my other stories.
I am not Harper Lee, therefore I do not receive any profit from this.
I know what the people say about me in town. That I'm a monster that stabbed my father and terrified my mother and stalked Miss Stephanie Crawford. I know everything they say, even if I hadn't been into town in…years. It's been so long that I really don't even know what the inside of town looks like anymore. It's like a faded picture in the back of my mind. Not that it really matters. I don't want to go into town and deal with the stares, the whispers. That was what drove me into my reclusion in the first place.
Those two children that live down the road, Jean Louise and Jeremy Finch, they're funny children. I know that they were absolutely terrified of Boo Radley, the unfortunate nickname that I've acquired over the years of isolation. They wouldn't come near the house, except for the time that Jeremy touched in the side of the house and then when Jean Louise rolled up in the tire. That had been so funny; I'd laughed myself hoarse over it. Nathan had probably come to the conclusion that I'd finally lost my mind, or what little I had left of it.
I liked to watch them play. I knew that they were acting out my life story, or the twisted version that the townspeople tell, with that strange little boy named Dill. I honestly didn't mind. After I figured out what exactly it was that they were doing, I didn't really care. They weren't being disrespectful in my eyes. But Atticus wouldn't have any of it. It was quite touching, really, when he came to my defense. I haven't seen that man face to face in such a long time. He was always kind and understanding, even if he didn't agree with me.
It would make my day when the children would find my gifts in the tree. To see the looks on their faces when they took the gifts out was worth them not ever returning the favour. Jean Louise feels guilty over that, and I wish that I could tell her that her and Jeremy not giving anything in return didn't bother me. What would I do with the gifts they gave me anyway? I didn't say much to her that night I first met her, I was too scared. I know that she was grateful to me, and I could see in her eyes as she stood on my porch after she walked me home that she finally understood all that she and her brother mean to me. They aren't my children, nor will I ever have any, but I will always harbour a special place in my heart for them.
Bob Ewell had always been a trouble-maker, even when I was younger. It comes from drinking away your brain cells since before you were a teenager. Atticus used to say how sorry he felt for him, when we'd see him or his family in town. I couldn't really feel sorry for him, because he never tried to rise above the squalor his family lived in. It was entirely possible, and he instead became the town drunkard and proceeded to make fools of himself and his family over the years.
My brother talked about the trial with me over our meals, telling me what had happened and how Atticus had completely ridiculed Bob Ewell in front of the entire town. I had to smile when I heard about that. Atticus was very good at what he did, and he was definitely very passionate about it. It didn't really surprise me that he had done so. Anyone with half a brain would have been able to see that Bob Ewell had been lying. That was just something that he did. Lying came easily to him, just like breathing. That didn't necessarily mean he was good at it.
I wasn't surprised when Nathan told me that Tom Robinson had been sentenced to prison either. I know Atticus had given the case his all, but in this town, something like that would not stand. The people are too set in their small-minded, prejudiced ways to see that they were sending an innocent man to his death. Jeremy seemed like his heart had been broken when he had headed home from the courthouse, and my heart broke with his. Jean Louise was still too young to fully understand just what had gone on, or what it meant. I wished to reach out and comfort them, but that would have been impossible. Despite the fact they were good children and believed the best in people, they would have rejected my advances.
I could see from the way Jeremy carried himself to and from school that he had lost his innocent, child-like view of the world and he was slowly learning what it meant to be an adult. I wish he could've stayed a child a while longer, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. Nathan had mentioned something about the Finch children keeping to themselves in town, and I didn't blame them. If my father had been involved in a case such as this, I probably would have done the same.
The night of the pageant, I had watched as Jeremy and Jean Louise headed to their school, carrying that ridiculous costume that Jean Louise had been wearing later that night. I had laughed at the sight of it, but now I'm glad that she had been wearing it. The costume, as odd and stupid as it looked, had probably saved her life. I decided that night I was going to sit on my porch, to watch for them, because I could feel in my bones that something awful was going to happen to those sweet children.
My heart was lodged in my throat when I saw Ewell grab Jean Louise, crushing that costume. Jeremy launched himself at Ewell to pull him off his sister, a brave and loving move, and then I heard that sickening snap and Jeremy's scream. I had to do something, so I came up behind Ewell and pulled him away from the boy. I'm not proud of what I had done next, sinking that knife into Bob Ewell's body. That will forever haunt me, but I had done it to save those children's lives. I carefully picked Jem up and carried him home, not waiting to see if Jean Louise was behind me. I knew she was, because she would be terrified for her brother.
I was afraid that Mr. Tate was going to arrest me or make a spectacle of Bob Ewell's death. I didn't want to be in the spotlight, I didn't know if I could handle the false words of gratitude or the hatred and animosity aimed towards me, depending on how the situation would play out. I was afraid that my brother would suffer further because of me. I was afraid for those children, and what they would have to go through.
I couldn't put those children through the further scrutiny and isolation, I wouldn't. They were honest children and I wouldn't have their names dragged through mud because of my actions against Bob Ewell.
I was relieved when Mr. Tate spun the tale to make it seem as if Ewell had fallen on his knife, meaning that only I would have to suffer through with my guilt of ending a human life. Scout seemed to understand why Mr. Tate did what he did, though I wasn't entirely sure what she meant. She had smiled at me, instead of rejecting me, with tears in her eyes, and I knew that was her thank you for her and Jeremy's lives.
It made the night seem just that less terrible, to see understanding and acceptance transform her from a girl to a young lady on my front porch, though it saddened me that she and her brother had been forced through extenuating circumstances to grow up so fast and learn the hard teachings of life.
To me, that was like killing a mockingbird.
So, I thought that was one worth sharing. I hope you liked it, all of you TKAMB fans out there. Read, review, send love. Love and kisses and Nutella to you all.