To Kill a Mockingbird Killing Birds

"So, Mr. Ewell," Mr. Gilmer enunciated slowly to Bob, "did you in fact see Mayella gettin' taken advantage of?"

"I don't see much how that matters, lookin' as how you're the lawyer on my side of the case," Bob shot at his attorney. Mr. Gilmer frowned and rubbed his chin.

"Just tryin' to get a look at what we're dealing with here. No need to get offended," the lawyer replied. Mr. Gilmer's one eye was staring right at Bob and the other at the door. This made Bob uncomfortable. What was he staring at. Him or the door? That bastard, taking him, Bob Ewell for a fool, how dare he. He felt the anger boil up from his insides. God he needed a drink of some cheap ale. He needed to get some control over that mopey, useless daughter of his; that's what he needed to do. You would've thought she woulda learnt her lesson by now... Bob Ewell grumbled to himself, his face probably growing redder and redder by the second. However, it was impossible to tell because of all the dirt and built-up grime.

"Well Mr. Ewell, I'm back off to Abbotsville for the week." He picked up some of the notes he took about the case and shoved them into his worn out work bag, a leather thing he'd had since he graduated the Alabama College of Law. "And Mr. Ewell," he said while walking out the door, "I'll see what I can do for you."

Bob Ewell opened the door to their tiny, leaning house. Well, he sort of opened it. Two of the three hinges supporting the door had busted so that it really didn't hold up anymore, just sort of lean crookedly against the frame. Barely kept the junkyard strays out, but barely was good enough for Bob Ewell. Walking into the main room, Mr. Ewell heard the sound of tears. Annoying. He walked calmly into Mayella's room. His expression was that of a snake, cold and collected. The only thing that gave him away was the bulging vein in his forehead.

Mayella lay on the floor, curled into a ball. Wet streaks from her eyes washed little tracks of clean skin into her face. She was battling heartbreak and losing. "Shut up! For god's sake Mayella, shut up!" Bob raged. Mayella flinched, well accustomed to what was coming. She tried to cower away but was already against the wall to start out with. He planted a kiss on her lips, straight on her lips, but not one of love or consolation. Aggression and hate poisoned the gesture. She sobbed harder and pushed him away. The lingering taste of alcohol made her want to gag. He kicked her in the stomach, but not hard enough to leave a bruise. For an uneducated man, he planned ahead well. He bent down and whispered in her ear, "Listen now, May. I found us a lawyer, sweetie." His voice switched on a dime from sickly sweet to as unfeeling as the chains on a slave Negro. "You do as you're told and just maybe things go back to the way they were before." He coughed, pushed Mayella into the wall, and stumbled off in search of more booze to calm his trembling hands.

Mayella choked on her tears but remained dead silent. With the never-ending isolation and the constant careful abuse, 'the way things were before' was what she was scared of most.

Bob Ewell's skin was raw. "You have to look presentable, you have to look respectable", that's what Mr. Gilmer had said. And because of Mr. Gilmer Bob had scrubbed himself absolutely spotless and shaved for half an hour. He missed the grunge that had protected his tender skin. Without it he felt almost naked, bare. Not a good feeling to be experiencing in court. He sat at the bench, making out the words of the trial. Heck Tate was a good witness, but Bob sat sweating in his seat knowing that he really wasn't a witness at all. All Tate knew was what Bob himself had told him since he wasn't there to witness the actual event as it happened. He was only called upon after the "rape" had already occurred and in consequence might say something to screw the case up. Mr. Ewell wasn't quite intelligent enough to put it all together, but he still felt the anxiety that Mr. Tate might be incriminating. He watched the trial progress with equal parts fear and boredom.  
By the time Bob was called up to testify, the irritation of Atticus's manipulative nit-picky questions had gotten the better of his emotions. Bob's face was red as a summer sunset and now just as visible due to the lack of dirt. Spit sprayed from his mouth as he swore on the bible. How dare we even be in court. How dare these people consider the Negro human. "-so help me God," he spat. (170)

Calm yourself, he thought. Bob thought of a nice bottle of whiskey and felt a pang in his now seemingly dry throat, but it distracted himself enough to focus. His rage metamorphosed into a gloating, confident manner. Perfect. He snarked his way through the preliminary questions. When it came time to describe what happened that night, he told the truth. Or it was the truth close enough, Bob told himself. The anger was real, wasn't it? Mayella kissin' a n***** was bad enough as rape, he thought to himself. Deserves to hang for it. Just like her w**** mom who went the same way. Mr. Ewell finished up his little speech exactly as rehearsed and bathed in the glorious outrage that came from the jury and crowd. The sound of victory for Bob. The sound of the hangman's noose tightening up around a neck for Tom and Mayella. Interesting how fate would condemn both of them together. But Mayella truly was trapped by her father. She wins the case and she goes back to her miserable life. But Mr. Ewell had threatened worse should she lose.  
As the trial pressed on, Bob grew even more confident. The case pressed in favor of Tom Robinson. The judge's face was inquisitive and hopeful-looking for the black man, but Bob saw clearly that the same thoughts of equality did not reflect on the faces of the jury. Even when Mr. Ewell was tricked into proving his left-handedness, (177) the favor of winning assuaged his temper into nothing but a slow burn.

Mayella testified. Bob Ewell's collected thoughts disappeared. He hoped his threats would be enough. He saw no reason why they shouldn't, as he fully intended to fallow through with them. Mayella certainly was putting on a show. She was answering like they had rehearsed. Putting in some tears and sobs for good measure. The sniffly thing disgusted him. Always crying and sitting around and it seemed anything she did rekindled the repugnant loathing Bob felt towards his first-born. He scowled. Just look at her sass that lawyer. I'll have to teach her proper respect when this is over, Bob thought. (181) It wasn't until Mayella slipped up good that Mr. Ewell's blood ran cold. "He does tollable, 'cept when-" Mayella replied to Atticus.  
"Except when he's drinking?" Asked Atticus. Mayella nodded. (184) Jesus, I'll kill her, Bob thought. I'll kill her like I done to her mom. The questions continued. Bob Ewell felt nothing but cold resolution on what he'd vowed to do. The fact was decided, unless winning the case made him feel real good. Maybe all he needed was another drink.

"Why don't you tell the truth child, didn't Bob Ewell best you up?" Atticus crooned softly. Mayella sneaked a glance at her father. Terror, pure panic reflected in her eyes. Her expression pleaded 'please, I didn't mean it, I tried my hardest, please no'. Bob Ewell ever so subtly shook his head. Mayella again burst into tears. This time they were real.


End file.

To Kill a Mockingbird, Crime, Drama