The sweltering humidity of my jail cell precipitated down my spine as I sat in deep thought. Stagnant darkness surrounded me, and the only noise present was my steady breath and pounding heartbeat. I noticed a growl in my stomach and my one good hand trembled. My head swirled as my body seemed to malfunction, and I could not pinpoint what I was feeling. Anxiety and nervousness competed with hope and appreciation to occupy my mind. The trial was to be in a few days. A few days until I was to find out if I were to live or die; a few days until I was to find out if I could see my family again, hear their laughter, comfort their tears...
I knew with all my heart that Atticus was a good man, a man willing to defend a black person under the laws of Jim Crow. I prayed for him and I prayed for myself, asking the Lord to save us both from the evil that plagued Maycomb. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I was in a state of self-pity. However, I was not in denial, as I kept my head and knew to sort out how things were and how they always …show more content…
No one walked around town in those hours of the night, and God only knew who could be out there. The tiny window in my cell offered a chance to look outside, and I squinted my eyes to see the face of the mysterious man. Atticus was walking with a wire in his hand, his head high, seemingly in a state of attempted confidence. Why was he there? The jail door creaked open and I heard him approaching my cell. Through the metal bars, Atticus tried to comfort me but had the opposite effect. “I will protect you, Tom. I will not let them get you.” I tried to inquire, as confusion took over, but the roar and squeak of a halting car ended our conversation. Atticus gave me one last nod of companionship before he steadily walked to a room around the corner and a newspaper crinkled in his hands. He seemed to be waiting for something, or
I knew with all my heart that Atticus was a good man, a man willing to defend a black person under the laws of Jim Crow. I prayed for him and I prayed for myself, asking the Lord to save us both from the evil that plagued Maycomb. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I was in a state of self-pity. However, I was not in denial, as I kept my head and knew to sort out how things were and how they always …show more content…
No one walked around town in those hours of the night, and God only knew who could be out there. The tiny window in my cell offered a chance to look outside, and I squinted my eyes to see the face of the mysterious man. Atticus was walking with a wire in his hand, his head high, seemingly in a state of attempted confidence. Why was he there? The jail door creaked open and I heard him approaching my cell. Through the metal bars, Atticus tried to comfort me but had the opposite effect. “I will protect you, Tom. I will not let them get you.” I tried to inquire, as confusion took over, but the roar and squeak of a halting car ended our conversation. Atticus gave me one last nod of companionship before he steadily walked to a room around the corner and a newspaper crinkled in his hands. He seemed to be waiting for something, or