The Inmate

by Freida McFadden

“Friends!” Margie throws back her head and laughs until her jowls shake. “No. We weren’t friends. I only tolerated you so that I could spend time with my grandson. That’s the only reason I didn’t spit in your face.”

I fucking knew she was Shane's mom

“Yes, I do.” She shakes the gun at me. “Because I’m the one who stabbed Chelsea.”

WHAT?!

She licks her chapped lips. “I had to get my son out of jail. I knew you were going over to Tim’s house that weekend, so I got everything ready. I even called in the anonymous tip to the police. And it was so helpful that the two of you exchanged keys so I could get into his basement.”

Oh my god

And oh my Lord, you should have seen your face when he gave you that necklace I sold him at the flea market over the summer. I found it on the floor of my house after you ran out, and I thought it might come in handy someday.”

“Why would you and Shane kill a bunch of innocent teenagers?” “Killing the other three was unfortunate,” Mrs. Nelson says in a voice that doesn’t sound like she cares much at all. “You were the target, my dear. A lesson had to be taught.” “Me…?” She brushes a strand of gray hair from her face. “Did you ever wonder why your parents were so adamant that you couldn’t date Shane? You probably just thought it was because he was white trash. They never told you the real reason, did they? Because if they did, you would’ve stayed away from him instead of dating him behind their backs.” I shake my head wordlessly. “When Shane was five years old, I fell in love with your father.” Her voice cracks slightly. “We were together for almost a year. He was supposed to leave your mother for me. He told me he would. He was supposed to save us—me and Shane. But then he decided he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave your mother and he couldn’t leave you. So he left us instead. You got to live the life that Shane and I should have had.” “I… I had no idea…” “Of course you didn’t!” She tightens her grip on the gun. “You were too busy living your charmed life. You had no idea what your father did to us. And your mother knew all about it, and she wouldn’t give us a red cent. My son had to work all through high school just to help pay the mortgage here.” She pauses. “Those two deserved to die. I would have done it anyway—even if I didn’t have to do it to get you to come back here.”

I hadn’t been close to my parents. I never forgave them for the way they shunned me after I decided to have Shane’s baby. Although now I understand it a little better. I understand why they never wanted me to come back to Raker and hid my pregnancy from everyone they knew. It wasn’t because they were ashamed of me—they didn’t want this crazy woman to find out she had a grandson.

Okay, ima go sob my eyes out now

He doesn’t even know Shane is dead.

Anyway, whoever my real dad is, it seems like he doesn’t really want to meet me.

This broke my heart

“You need to know,” Tim said, “there’s a man named Shane Nelson who might contact you someday and want to hurt your mom. This man, Shane Nelson—he’s a really bad man. Really bad. So if you ever see him or hear from him, you need to know that he’s dangerous.”

Omg, that's why he didn't like Shane at first

So when Shane took me out into the woods to make that snowman, I noticed that all the trees had a lot of icicles. They looked really heavy and pointy. Shane was a lot bigger than me, so I figured if I wanted to protect my mom, this was my only chance. I waited until Shane was standing under one of the branches. I reached up and shook the branches, and all the ice fell on him. It was a lot of snow and ice. It was enough to make him fall down. I walked over to see if it had knocked him out, like in Little League last year when Jaden threw that ball at Oliver’s head (accidentally). But it didn’t knock Shane out. He was on the floor, rubbing his head, but he was still fine. That’s when I saw the icicle on the ground. It was huge—about the same size as the bat in Little League, where I’m the best hitter on the whole team. So I picked it up with my gloved hands and I swung it—the way Tim showed me when we practiced in the fall. And I swung it again. And again. And again. I thought it might break, but the ice was pretty strong. It didn’t break. It held together really well. The first time the icicle hit Shane’s head, he shouted. But not the second time. Or the third. Eventually, Shane stopped moving at all. I can’t remember how many times it took before that happened. When I do something bad, Mom always tells me to say I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry I hit Shane in the head with that icicle. I had to do it. Tim said he was dangerous and that he was going to hurt my mom. And I could ...

After all, I would do anything for my mom.

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