July 1935, Maycomb Alabama

Your husband Atticus and your two children come home from the Tom Robinson Trial. Atticus was clearly a little distraught and upset about the fact the jury had ruled Tom as guilty, it was clear as day that Tom was innocent, yet he was ruled as guilty all because he was a black man. Your son Jem was crying, and even scout, your daughter, seemed a little upset.

Atticus puts his coat up and Jem comes running into your arms, mumbling about how unfair the trial was. The negative tension was so thick it could be cut.

“I’m going to bed,” Atticus spoke, trying to hide the emotion in his voice “Dear, can you put the children to bed…? I need a few moments to-“ he sighed and ran a hand through his hair “-Process…”