sweet tea. -tkam

questioning.

-3rd pov-

"Miss daisy?"

Memories flooded her mind after he asked what she had done all that time. So much hurt, yet so little words. She looked at him for a brief second before her skittish eyes darted away like always.

"I..."

He looked at her, with a genuine expression of concern on his face, trying to read deeper into her.

"I don't know..."

"You...don't know what you did back home?" He repeated

Daisy hesitated, and shook her head no.

"I'm sorry, I just have a hard time believing that for the...how old are you?"

"Tw...twenty seven...." She muttered

"That for the 27 years you lived there you don't remember anything I-"

"I remember.." she said suddenly

"Yes?"

"Th...things....I...don't want to remember...is....what I...did...those years..."

-atticus pov-

I knew I was pressing her to talk more and more as the conversation progressed, but something in me...I couldn't help but try and get her to say something. I supposed it was my job as an attorney, but, she wasn't my client.
       I knew it was risky to try and get something out of a hesitant acquaintance, but I found it hard to let her sit in fearful silence. I now, however, wished I had not persisted in my questioning.
       Her breathing was faster, and shorter, and she seemed very shaky. I hadn't a doubt now that it was abuse, but sadly, I was hardly surprised.
       So many small, kind women I meet in passing, so many women in general, have been mistreated in ways not even an animal should experience. Unfortunately, I can do so painfully little to help them.
      I have no legal power when it comes to that, if it's behind closed doors. And if it's domestic, it dosent matter what it is. So long as it's not murder, it's perfectly legal for a man to hit a woman.
     I don't have any power over the system, I simply work within a corrupted one, and do my best to be one just and respectable man in my position.

"You don't have to tell me, daisy Mae. I'm sorry I asked."

She nodded, but her eyes told me that for a moment, she had to relive her past. She was nearly a stranger to me, but I felt so desperately like I needed to help her.
      Beyond just empathy, it felt as if I couldn't simply act like she was alright. But there really was just now way for me to help her. So I had to leave it be.

-3rd pov-

"Have you liked it here so far?"

She nodded again, and atticus sighed softly.

"Well. We are happy to have you here, miss daisy. Scout isn't an easy one to please all the time, so that should mean something to you."

"Even I'm not always her favorite person" he said, chuckling

"She's...she's really sweet" daisy said, speaking again at last

"I tried to raise my kids well"

"Scout does really love you..."

He smiled softly

"I'd hope so. My kids really are the most important thing in my life."

She stared at the Crystal flower vase on the windowsill.

"...thank you, by the way. For being her friend. She's...having a rough time with school, and with her older brother Jem. I know it means the world to her."

Daisy looked up

"Really?"

"Yes. She really looks up to you, and, I'm glad she does. You're a very kindhearted young woman, and I'd be greatful to have that rub off on my children even more."

Daisy smiled, laying her head into her shoulder.

"You think?"

"No, I know. I saw you with her."