Nowhere bound, p.1
Nowhere Bound, page 1
Nowhere Town
A Ghosts of Nowhere Town Prequel
By
Felicity Brandon writing as
Elodie Crowe
Copyright © 2023 by Elodie Crowe
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: elodiecroweauthor@gmail.com
This book is entirely a work of fiction.
The author does not condone, nor endorse any of the acts in this book.
First edition September 2023
Cover design by Wicked Smart Designs.
Editing by Karen Sanders.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Nowhere Bound (Ghosts Of Nowhere Town, #2)
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
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Prologue
Origins
Before the fog
The sound of Laurel’s scream shattered my sleep, bursting the bubble of my fractured dream. I was awake in a heartbeat, flying from my bedding and stumbling to the door. Turning back to my bed, my weary gaze searched for Sam, finding him absent. Tension clawed at my insides at the revelation, and I yanked the door open and staggered into the hall.
Where’s Sam?
The question resonated in the empty corridors of my brain, but I already knew the answer. I just didn’t want to accept it. Sam had been in bed beside me when I’d curled up the night before. He’d been full of twisted glee after his latest vicious assault on me, but as I dashed down the hall, he was gone and Laurel was in trouble. I had learned long ago that there were few coincidences, and as the remnants of my slumber fell away, I knew where he was and what he wanted.
“Nooo!”
My blood ran cold as her terror rang out through the hall.
I’m coming, sweetie!
Lurching for her room, my terror threatened to pull my heart into my throat. Nothing was worse than this. I’d never known such primal fear.
“Laurel?” I hollered her name, frantic to reach her as I grasped for her door handle, but just as I was about to pull it open, a dark silhouette loomed in the entrance.
“What are you doing here, Emmy?” Sam’s voice managed to be both petrifying and patronizing all at the same time. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“What?” I gasped, trying to peer around his gigantic frame to find my daughter.
Her bedside light cast a peach illumination into the room, but however hard I tried, I couldn’t see around her snarling father.
“Don’t ‘what’ me, Emmy.” Grinning, Sam ran his tongue over his teeth. “Go back to bed. Now.”
Emmy. A cold shiver ran along my spine, although it was a warm night. Only he called me Emmy, and only he could make the name sound so sickening and derogatory.
“Mummy, please!” Laurel’s sob traveled from the room behind him. “Don’t leave me.”
“What are you doing to her?” I demanded, although I knew.
I’d noticed the signs. Sam’s interest in Laurel’s development as she steadily approached womanhood, his leers morphing into inappropriate comments, and eventually, his hand as it grazed over her body when he thought I wasn’t looking. At first, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, refused to accept that even the man who’d treated me with such callous disregard could be such a monster, but I’d been fooling myself. The omens had been there, and on that night, they had come home to roost.
“None. Of. Your. Fucking. Business.” He spat the words at me, leaning closer and forcing me to retreat. In the half light, I noticed he was only wearing his pajama bottoms, the thin cotton leaving little to the imagination. The realization furled my trepidation. Being in Laurel’s bedroom in the middle of the night had stimulated him. It was my worst fear come to fruition. “I told ya. Go back to bed. I’ll deal with you later.”
I knew what that meant, having learned all of Sam’s lessons the hard way, but I’d swallowed his bullshit for all those years for one reason only—to provide Laurel with the home and stability she deserved. The idea that after all this time and agony, Sam had decided to turn his disgusting attention to our daughter was unfathomable. Even though I’d caught him in her bedroom in the middle of the night, the urge to smother myself in denial still taunted.
It’s not what you think. The justification bounced around my head. He’s come in to settle her himself. He loves her.
But even if I’d wanted to believe in the false narrative, the revolting smile on Sam’s face put me straight. There was no innocuous reason for him to be there. Laurel’s upset alone was a testament to that.
“No.”
My voice was barely louder than a whisper, but I forced out the word, steeling myself for the fight to come.
“What was that?” he growled, edging nearer and pinning me to the wall. “What did you say?”
“I said no.”
My voice was firmer than before, though I struggled to hear it over the sound of my hammering heart. Despite my fear, though, my plan was clear. I would double down, goad him from my daughter’s door, and draw his focus away from her. It was all I could do to protect her, and as he pressed me against the recently painted wall, there was no doubt I was her final line of defense. I’d turned a blind eye to Sam’s nefarious signs when I should have walked away, but I wouldn’t make another misjudgment. I was all Laurel had.
“No?” Balking at my reply, his hand moved to my throat as he snorted. “Since when do you say no, Emmy?”
Sam had a point. Over the years we’d been together, I had rarely ever said no, and in recent times, any opportunity to do so had been quashed with his cutting words and ever-ready fists. But Sam had missed one critical thing. The farther he’d taken my rights away, the more he’d fueled the glowing embers of resistance inside me, and while they’d only glowed until that moment, the sparks were there, ready to be stoked by something as insidious as whatever he’d hoped to gain from Laurel’s bedroom. Ever since Laurel was born, he’d wielded her against me, assuming she was the reason I’d never leave. For a long time, he’d been right, but that blind loyalty was over.
“Since now.” Flinching at the way his fingers compressed my airway, I fixed my stare on him. Those same cold eyes I’d looked into so many times when I’d sought compassion, yet found none. “Since tonight.”
“You’re a glutton for punishment, Emmy.” His sneer turned my stomach, but as I registered his elated expression, all I could think about was Laurel. I had to save her. Had to lure the beast from her door. “There’s me thinking you’d had enough for one night, but I guess I was wrong.” His fingers stroked my neck. “You need another lesson.”
“You’re a sick bastard.” His grip made it difficult to speak, but I knew he’d heard me. The way his brow rose was enough to persuade me of that.
In that moment, it occurred to me that he could squeeze too hard and finish me—right there in the hall.
What will Laurel do then?
Exacerbating terror knotted at the thought because I didn’t have an answer. I had no choice but to fight back to protect my daughter, but if Sam went too far, then I’d inadvertently abandon her, leaving Laurel defenseless against his dark whims.
“I’m what?” he snarled, dragging me along the wall back toward the room we’d shared. “Care to say that again?”
“Sick,” I just about managed as he threw me onto the hall carpet.
Landing on my hip, I coughed as I gasped for air but scrambled quickly to my knees. I’d taken much worse from Sam, and based on the flicker of anger in his eyes, I would do so again. It would be worth it if it meant I shielded my baby from harm.
“You really are a stupid bitch,” he muttered, grasping my hair and jerking my head back to meet his eyes. “You never learn, do you?”
“M-mummy?”
His grip relaxed at the sound of Laurel’s voice, and we both turned to see her standing in her doorway, eyes wide with horror. Every fiber of me longed to run and comfort her, but the last thing I wanted to do was draw the monster who wanted to hurt her closer to his target.
“Go back to bed, Laurel,” Sam commanded, dismissing her with a flick of his free hand. “Your mum and I have business.”
“Don’t hurt her!” she cried, evidently on the verge of tears.
“Don’t worry about me, Laurel,” I rasped, trying to sound upbeat as I kneeled, held by my hair by the same man who’d terrorized me for years.
Too long.
“Do as Dad says,” I went on. “Go back to bed.” And wedge your door closed with the chair I bought for you.
I couldn’t vocalize the final sentence, but I hoped my eyes conveyed the message. God knows she and I had been through the plan enough times. I’d shared things that no mother should ever have to process with their child. Yet still, I’d stayed in fear, believing him when he’d said it was the best outcome for Laurel, permitting him to denigrate my self-esteem to the breaking point. I’d stayed, but I’d made sure Laurel had an emergency plan. I’d let her choose the chair she wanted, telling Sam it was only there for aesthetic reasons, knowing full well its true purpose was far grimmer. Pushed under her door handle at the right angle, the chair prevented anyone from gaining entry to her room.
Unless he smashes the bloody door down.
Sam’s grasp stiffened, forcing me to grimace as I rose higher on my knees.
I can’t let him. I inhaled at the terrifying thought. I’ll have to play his personal punch bag until dawn. I’ll keep him busy.
I watched as she pulled her door closed, her small face the last thing I saw before Sam dragged me back to the bedroom. As he yanked me past the threshold and threw me onto the bed, only one motivation filled my mind.
He wouldn’t hurt my baby. Not tonight. Not ever.
I wouldn’t allow it.
Chapter One
Immersed
Tiny droplets of water surrounded me, obscuring my view of Ewan, even though he was only inches ahead. The fog had descended hours ago, but still it hung in the air; visible aerosols that refused to disperse. A natural haze intent on blinding everyone caught in its wake. We didn’t know where it had come from, why it had arrived, or critically, how long it would take to clear.
Something about the lingering vapor struck a chord in my head, as clutching the box of refreshments to my chest, I allowed Ewan to guide me through the gloom. The mist concealed what was ordinarily a railway station—a place we passed through every day on our commute. The low cloud had taken what was normal and disguised it, twisting routine into fear, and although I loathed the outcome, I understood the process.
My life had been oddly reminiscent of the methodology ever since Laurel and I had finally broken away from her father’s clutches. I’d done what I had to do to survive, burying memories to mask my feelings and stay afloat. The irony was that, even though I insisted we attend regular counseling sessions to help Laurel cope, I hadn’t even started to manage my emotions. The new house, the counselor, and even my daily train journey had become my personal fog, blurring reality until it was opaque enough for me to not see the details. To not have to think about what we’d escaped from.
Sam.
His face burst into my mind’s eye, in spite of my desire to dodge his memory. Sam was my ex, and the man my daughter and I had been forced to flee from. He’d gaslighted and manipulated us for so long I had barely found my way out, but he haunted me still.
‘Poor little Emmy.’
His voice reverberated through my head, and as I stumbled on, I was once again reminded of the way I’d seen his face from the ticket office window. Ewan had tried to convince me that the image had only been a figment of my imagination, but as we trudged back to the waiting room, I wasn’t entirely persuaded that the shuffling noises I heard from behind me were invented by my Sam-inspired paranoia.
It could be my imagination. Tugging in a deep breath, the thought pinballed. It has to be because the alternative is unthinkable.
I thought I’d seen Sam through the murk. Thought he’d pressed his face against the window, but I must have been wrong. If Sam was on the platform with us, he’d have made himself known. He’d have done something hideous. Wasn’t it possible that I’d only manifested him from my mind? That Sam wasn’t there and never had been?
“Are you okay?” Ewan’s voice echoed through the foggy shadows, his fingers squeezing my hand.
“Yes,” I replied, my heart skipping a beat as his fingers curled with mine.
The fleeting excitement flickering in my stomach was illogical. Sure, Ewan was an attractive distraction, an enigma who’d turned my head during an absurdly stressful day, but he was nothing more. The way he’d leaped out of the train without knowing what awaited him, the way he’d confidently known how to perform chest compressions, and the way he’d been able to pick the lock to the ticket office door—those things were not easily explained, but they all cumulated to create the ideal tonic. Ewan had stimulated enough intrigue to get me through the ordeal, but he could never be more. I couldn’t allow myself to get swept away in a rush of teenage hormones. I was too old, had been around the block too often, and I had Laurel to think about.
Laurel.
Guilt knotted in my chest at the thought of her. I had spoken to my daughter from the waiting room as soon as the phone signal had returned, but she was stuck at school, barricaded into a classroom as she attempted to wait out the bad weather. She still needed me. A deep-seated yearning rose from the pit of my stomach as the idea repeated over and over.
She needs me. She needs me, and where the hell am I?
After Sam, I’d promised her that I’d always be there for her, and I’d meant it, but I was trapped on an isolated, rural platform with a group of people I didn’t know, while apparently being stalked by the ghost of my ex-lover. I couldn’t get to her.
How has any of this happened? Panic bloomed in my chest. I have to get to Laurel.
My attention flitted to my coat pocket, the place I knew my phone was stashed. I’d call her again just as soon as we were back in the waiting room, and in the meantime, I had to keep calm. I couldn’t help her if I lost the plot.
“Hey.” Ewan’s voice brought me back to the present. “Did you hear what I said, Emelia?”
“Sorry?” I replied, suddenly aware that he’d stopped and had turned to face me.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he demanded.
“I was just thinking of Laurel.”
“Your daughter?” His face neared enough that I could see his brow furrow, though he too clutched items we’d borrowed from the ticket office.
“Yeah.”
My heart raced with the answer, though I couldn’t be sure if it was the rising dread that inspired the response, or the intensity in Ewan’s gaze. So much had happened in such a short time; I was having difficulty keeping up with the competing emotions.
“She’ll be okay,” he said, although he had no way of knowing. Ewan had never even met my daughter.
“Of course,” I muttered, my belly contracting at my lack of sincerity.
She is okay, the irritating monologue in my head reminded me. She has to be.
A life without Laurel wasn’t one I even wanted to consider, and after everything we’d been through at Sam’s hands, we deserved to be happy.
“We’re almost back to the waiting room.” His voice was as soothing as ever, easing away some of the trepidation tensing in my body. “But I’m having a hard time staying close to the wool without my hand. Can you hang onto me so I can grab it?”
“Sure.” My gaze darted towards the wall. Somewhere over there was Maureen’s unraveled ball of wool; the only foolproof way to get from one part of the station to the next. But with his arms full of the kettle we’d found and filled at the ticket office, and his free hand in mine, he was struggling to locate it. “No problem.”
“It will be okay,” he promised. “I’ll make sure of it, Emelia.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, conscious of the tears pricking in my eyes.
I’d needed a man like Ewan my whole life. Someone I could cede to and trust, but instead, I’d met and fallen for Sam. Where trust should have grown, Sam had wielded control, and instead of love, our relationship had been rooted in fear. I didn’t know if I’d ever find faith in another man again, but standing on the platform beside the stranger who’d helped steer the day from disaster, I was grateful for the one the fog had given me.
Chapter Two
The Waiting Room
“Em!”
Leaving her chair, Sally launched herself at me, throwing her arms around my shoulders as we entered the waiting room. The wool had done its job and ensured our safe return, although I never really got over the feeling that we hadn’t been alone on the platform.
