Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Mr. Watson ❯ Mr. Watson ( One-Shot )

Disclaimer: Although I did write this story I did not create Mr. Watson and Governor Slaton; they are real people from 1912 Atlanta, Georgia. All of the action takes place about one year before the death of Mary Phagan. Thank you for reading.

 

Even though I had been 50 years since the South lost the war, things hadn't changed that much. Here in Atlanta, we blacks still found ourselves working for whites with our heads bowed in submission. The worst of it for me was having to act ignorant in order to make sure that the white people I work for feel comfortable. Dropping consonants, slurring words saying “yessuh” and “no suh.” In short, acting like a nigger. To me, a nigger is a stupid black person who can't learn, read or write and jumps at a white persons' every whim.

The worst part of my life began when I met Mr. Watson. He is the editor of an over-zealous Christian newspaper and yet he is the most evil person that I had ever met. Someone once told me that he just doesn't know how to share his feelings correctly. His wife had recently passed in child birth and had taken their child right along with her. Well, let's just say that he shares his feelings just fine with me and I wish he'd stop.

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Mr. Watson had seemed nice enough for the first few weeks I worked for him. He had given me a room in the attic so that I could be a “live-in” and not have to worry about finding a place close by, paying rent and getting food. Everything seemed to be going great. I had a job, food, no bills and was being courted by a nice young light-skinned boy, Jameson. Jameson had a very exotic, south-of-the-border look to him and was so nick-named Diego.

I didn't work at night, so I often went to the Governor's Mansion to visit him. Sometimes we went to see the serials at the local movie house; the Perils of Pauline are my favorite ones. Other time we would meet up with Muneera and Riley just to talk and share the week's happenings.

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The day that changed my life completely was one I will never be able to forget. It was April 14, 1912, four days before my 18th birthday was to come. I had just come from delivering peaches to the Governor for Mr. Watson. Gov. Slaton was always kind to us blacks and he tipped me a whole 25 cents that day. I was so happy I almost lost my head and hugged the man! I thanked him kindly and left; but before leaving the property completely, I went to Diego's quarters to tell him of the 25 cents. When I arrived there Riley was standing at the door.

“Hey, Riley, I was just…”

“Keep your voice down, Honey. Diego's in there sleepin'.”

“Sleeping? It's the middle of the day. Why would he be… oh my God. What's happened to him?”

“Nothin' that won't heal. Now why don't you just go on.”

I tried to push past him to the door, “I need to see him.”

“Then come back tomorrow.” He stood his ground against me. There was a moment of silence between us, and then I understood that I didn't want to see what was in there.

“Fine, but I will be back tomorrow.”

“That's dandy as long as you leave now.”

I turned to leave, “You tell him that I came by.” and I walked back to Mr. Watson's home.

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As soon as I had opened the door to the servants' entrance to the kitchen I jumped back. Mr. Watson was there leaning up against the counter staring straight at me. I caught my breath and continued in to the kitchen.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Watson.” I smiled up at him. With one swift moment he had lunged toward me and hit me; hard. I had been hit worse before by past employers, but regardless being is not something one gets used to; I spun into the wall knocking down the spice rack. I grabbed at my eyes screaming, something had gotten in them.

I heard the faint clank of metal, it took a second for my mind to register the sound and then I recognized it; belt buckle. I scrambled to my knees and tried to feel for the door. Just as I opened it he had me by the hair and pulled me to the floor.

“Oh no you don't!” He pinned me and turned me toward him. “Open your eyes.” I couldn't do it; my eyes burned and tears threaten to stream out of them. “Open them and look at me!”

“I, I can't!” I cried. I pushed up at his chest, “Please! Please get off me!”

Mr. Watson clasped my head between his hands so I couldn't move. “Open them!” I opened my eyes a little. He let all of his weight down on me; it felt as if my lungs were being crushed. I could feel his hand push up my skirt and tug at my unders. My breathing grew so ragged I couldn't even scream. Within seconds he was in me. I choked back a scream and tears began to fall. I whimpered each time he moved in me.

“Stop!” I wailed still trying to fight him.

But he didn't, he just kept pushing into me. I felt ill in the core of my stomach. “I know you want this.” He began to move painfully slow; like he wanted me to feel every bit of him as he stretched the walls of my sex. I began shaking. “It's in the way you fold my clothes. The way you bow your head down to me.”

“No, sir.” My voice trembled. “I do those things `cause you say to.”

He stopped moving, but only for a moment. “Then why should this be any different?” He grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me right back into the floor. His thrusts became more quick and sharp. All at once I had stopped shaking, my lips pierced together and my eyes clenched shut; my chest heaving beneath him.

“Don't do that!” he panted. “Stop trying to block me out looking like you hate this. Don't pretend I'm him.”

The sudden realization of what he meant hit me like a ton of bricks. He must have thought I was single when he hired me and then seen me with Diego. Oh, my God, he must have had something to do with why Riley wouldn't let me see him. My train of thought broke when he gripped my waist with one arm and dropped the other to the ground nearby my head. He let out a very strange aberrant cry and leaked into me.

I didn't understand what had just happened. I had never been with a man before. I was in stunned. He pulled out of me slick and limp. I began to shake again in sort of a cold seat. He wiped himself off on my skirt and stuffed himself back into is pants.

“You look a little, worn out.” He said. “You should go to bed. Make my dinner and then you can go.” I turned my head away from him when he knelt down to me. He stroked my neck and whispered lowly into my ear, “Hurry and get cleaned up.” He pulled me to my feet by my arms; I could feel what he spilled into me begin to slip down my thighs. I hung my head. He left the kitchen and snickered to himself.

I placed my trembling hands on the counter to steady myself and had a few breathy hiccups. Then, I gathered up my unders from the floor and went to my room in the attic to change.

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I attempted to serve him his dinner in silence without any contact at all. When he asked for things I couldn't bring myself to verbalize a response, so I quietly retrieved the things he needed- the butter, a different knife, another spoon, a handkerchief, more water. It seemed to me that he would ask for everything, use none of it and then tell me to take it away.

As I passed by to put the salt back onto the newly hung spice rack Mr. Watson reached out and grabbed my arm. He thumbed over the skin on the inside of my elbow. “you can go to bed now, honey. I'll have someone else clear this out.”

▲▼

I walked to the Governor's Mansion to visit Diego just al I told Riley I would. My thighs were sore and the back of my head hurt but I was thankful that my face hadn't begun to swell or bruise. Riley was out front washing the cars; he said Diego was out behind the house restoring a couple of vintage clocks the Governor's wife had found.

“Hey.” I said walking up the back porch steps.

“Hey.” He kept his back toward me, facing his working.

“I came to see you yesterday but you were sleepin'.”

“I know, Riley told me.”

I walked up behind him, “What happened?” He sat the tool down that he had been holding.

“Nothin' that won't heal.” He picked up another tool. That was when I noticed his shirt sleeves were down. He always wore them rolled up.

“That's what Riley told me.” I said quietly. “What's the matter with your arms, Diego?” I place a hand on his shoulder and he flinched away from it. “Diego?”

He turned to face me. His high yellow skin was covered in bruises and scratches. I was in shock. He unbuttoned and shed his shirt to reveal more bruises and areas of skin covered with gauze and medical dressings. All I could say was “oh my God” so I kept saying it. I gently ran my fingers down his chest where the brunt of the damage had been done.

“Who did this to you? I mean, Governor Slaton doesn't seem like the type who'd…”

“It wasn't him.” he said cutting me off. He took my hands from his chest and held them avoiding eye contact.

“Don't pretend I'm him.”

“It was Mr. Watson, wasn't it?”

“His eyes shot up to meet mine. “How could you know that?” I withdrew my hands from his and wrapped my arms around myself.

▲▼

It has been nearly five months since the attack and a week since I lost the baby.

▲▼

I was still working for Mr. Watson despite the circumstances. Sadly if I would have left, I wouldn't have had a place to work or to live. I couldn't stay with Diego and Riley because they only had their jobs because they were young, had high yellow skin and were without family. I couldn't that.

Mr. Watson had come up to my room one morning; what for I can only suspect. I was dressing at the time and cried out when he entered, holding my dress in front of my body. Every step he made toward me I countered and took a step back until I backed into a wall. I wrapped the dress around my abdomen; I didn't want to see that I-

he snatched it from around me- was pregnant. I slowly dropped my

arms to my sides. He just stared at me, wide-eyed, for a while. His nose began to twitch and his face grew red; he balled his hands into fists.

“How could you do this?” he got so close I could feel his spit. He struck me across the face and I instinctively blocked my stomach against him. His fist continued to fly at me even after I had fallen to the floor. He stood over my as I lay broken, my hair matted to my face and neck with blood.

“I will not stand for some nigger house-girl to bare my child. I would kill you first.” He gave me a swift kick to my side. I tried to catch my breath again wheezing. “Shut your mouth and go wash you face.”

▲▼

The next day I grew violently ill. I cried and vomited all day but Mr. Watson made an extra effort to make sure that I stayed busy. Late that night when all the stars sat brightly in the sky, all except my favorite, I stared out at the trees from the porch. I held tightly to one of the back porch posts with one hand and held a frumpy cloth to my mouth with the other. Screaming into the cloth and squatting over the steps. I gave birth to a sexless baby just like that, cut the cord with a garden tool and buried the child underneath the porch. I place a flower from the garden at the base. When I had finished there I washed my clothes and changed into my sleeper for bed.

 

I awoke to the sound of my door opening; Mr. Watson's shadowy form stood in the door frame.

 

 

Thank you for reading. If you have questions let me know.