What would you do if you were stuffed in a trunk?
Hopefully, you never have to literally answer this question. The last time I was stuffed in a trunk, I was in high school sneaking into a Drive-in Theater. For those of you younger than 30, there was a time you could watch movies from the comfort of your car, enjoy all the snacks and drinks you wanted brought from home without having to hide them in your large purse.
I would say I can’t imagine being forcibly placed in a trunk, however I did and that’s exactly where we find Kelly Lowe at the beginning of For the Helpless. Put yourself in this situation for a moment….. you’ve been attacked, sedated, subdued and rendered helpless to really do anything about it. On top of that, you’re forced to listen to really BAD music. Ok, the music is probably just an annoyance when you look at the big picture. Not knowing for sure who has you captive or where they’re taking you would probably be pretty irritating and maybe a little frightening.
In For the Helpless, you have the pleasure of being there with Kelly throughout the book. It is told from her point of view; how she’s treated when she’s kidnapped, how she feels about the young victims she’s trying to defend and avenge, how she can’t trust those closest to her. My hope is that in taking this jaunt along with her, you too, will feel the disparity and urgency Kelly has to stop the man responsible for the heinous crime against these innocent girls.
How would it feel to be looking over your shoulder every minute, second guessing your fellow officers, your boyfriend, even yourself? I imagine there’s a bit of hopelessness as well as helplessness behind all of bravado Kelly exhibits.
For the Helpless is just that….. Kelly and her team fight to find justice for those that were helpless, but ultimately, Kelly becomes helpless herself. If she can’t defend herself, then, who can? She’s got spunk and she’s got attitude, but, it isn’t until late in the book she turns to the only One that can really help any of them.
Here are some excerpts from the book from Kelly’s time in the trunk and as a victim fighting for freedom.
For the Helpless by Lori K. Wilson
Of course, I knew that I could die. Possibly it would happen in the line of duty. It’s one of the risks you assume with the job. It’s also one of those things I’d hoped would never happen, especially like this… at the hands of a vicious killer. Frankly, the reality was a little more disturbing than I had envisioned it back at the Academy. It was taking every fiber of my being to not hyperventilate.
I’d been taken by surprise in a rare moment of distraction. If my feet weren’t bound, I would be kicking myself. Instead, I’m lying in what feels like the trunk of a small, musky smelling economy car, bound tightly by duct tape, gagged and blindfolded. Even if I could manage to get my feet free, I think the blood flow to my ankles would be an issue. I’m sandwiched pretty tightly in this box. If my 5’7” frame were any bigger, he would have had to upgrade just to get me in here at all.
I have no way of knowing how long we’ve been driving and I can only imagine where Gerald is taking me. Truth is, I don’t even know if Gerald is behind this. There could be any number of maniacal killers that would happily toss me in the back of a car. My bet was on Gerald Broussard, though. My whole body shuddered at what he must have in store for me. Gerald is not known for his generosity in situations such as this. I will certainly be in for a long, painful death.
Thinking along those lines brought back memories of how I got in this situation to begin with. Poor little Amy Townsend; I could only hope she was spared the torture and abuse I was certain Broussard could dish out. I didn’t fool myself into believing that, however. I’d seen the remnants of those who had come before her. I squeezed my eyes tighter, as if the defensive movement could really shut out the visions re-playing in my mind. “Hold it together, Kelly.” I heard myself say. Silently, I continued, reminding myself that if I was truly going to get out of this alive, I’d have to use every trick I’d learned along the way. Forcing every other thought out of my addled mind, I focused on what needed to be done.
I could feel the car slowing and turning. As disoriented as I was, I couldn’t tell if it was left or right though. I could, however tell it was a gravel road. Little pings of rock, spit at the bottom of the trunk. I wanted to rub my head, it hurt so badly. Like I’d gotten hit with something… hard. That, plus the death metal blaring from inside the car was not a helpful combination. I was feeling a little nauseous too. Just great, I’d show up to the party for two with barf all over myself. I kept fading in and out of consciousness, every time I came to, it would be like a broken record, first the confusion, then the realization, then the panic and finally the troubleshooting. Unfortunately I’d used my energy trying to bring my senses together to find a way out of this. “If I could only move in this damn thing, I might get somewhere.” I laughed harshly. If a detective comes to in a car trunk, does anyone hear? Oh, the fanatical ravings of a lunatic. That’s how I feel. A little off my rocker right now. Sense of humor? Check. Gag tightly in place? Check. Crazy pills? Double check.
I couldn’t approximate how long I’d been in this car, minutes could be hours, and hours could be minutes. I just didn’t know, what with all the consciousness I was losing and all. The car was slowing. I think anyway. I decided I’d lay limp, pretend I’m still out. If that weazely bastard were taking me anywhere, he’d have to work hard at it. I would not make this easy for him.
My body rocked forward…. hard. We came to an abrupt halt, causing me to slam my battered head where the taillight would be. “Shit!” I hissed. That hurt!
The screaming that blared through the speakers was silenced as he cut the engine. “Next time, I pick the music.” I mumbled. I heard the driver’s door open and slam shut. I could tell he was walking, but he was heading in the wrong direction. What was he doing? He wasn’t going to leave me out here, was he? Another wave of nausea hit just then. I focused all of my energy on not throwing up. I reasoned that it would bother me a lot worse than it would him. With that thought, I felt the darkness closing in. I gave myself up to the dizzying feeling of being on a merry-go-round and slid back into unconsciousness.
Hopefully, you never have to literally answer this question. The last time I was stuffed in a trunk, I was in high school sneaking into a Drive-in Theater. For those of you younger than 30, there was a time you could watch movies from the comfort of your car, enjoy all the snacks and drinks you wanted brought from home without having to hide them in your large purse.
I would say I can’t imagine being forcibly placed in a trunk, however I did and that’s exactly where we find Kelly Lowe at the beginning of For the Helpless. Put yourself in this situation for a moment….. you’ve been attacked, sedated, subdued and rendered helpless to really do anything about it. On top of that, you’re forced to listen to really BAD music. Ok, the music is probably just an annoyance when you look at the big picture. Not knowing for sure who has you captive or where they’re taking you would probably be pretty irritating and maybe a little frightening.
In For the Helpless, you have the pleasure of being there with Kelly throughout the book. It is told from her point of view; how she’s treated when she’s kidnapped, how she feels about the young victims she’s trying to defend and avenge, how she can’t trust those closest to her. My hope is that in taking this jaunt along with her, you too, will feel the disparity and urgency Kelly has to stop the man responsible for the heinous crime against these innocent girls.
How would it feel to be looking over your shoulder every minute, second guessing your fellow officers, your boyfriend, even yourself? I imagine there’s a bit of hopelessness as well as helplessness behind all of bravado Kelly exhibits.
For the Helpless is just that….. Kelly and her team fight to find justice for those that were helpless, but ultimately, Kelly becomes helpless herself. If she can’t defend herself, then, who can? She’s got spunk and she’s got attitude, but, it isn’t until late in the book she turns to the only One that can really help any of them.
Here are some excerpts from the book from Kelly’s time in the trunk and as a victim fighting for freedom.
For the Helpless by Lori K. Wilson
Of course, I knew that I could die. Possibly it would happen in the line of duty. It’s one of the risks you assume with the job. It’s also one of those things I’d hoped would never happen, especially like this… at the hands of a vicious killer. Frankly, the reality was a little more disturbing than I had envisioned it back at the Academy. It was taking every fiber of my being to not hyperventilate.
I’d been taken by surprise in a rare moment of distraction. If my feet weren’t bound, I would be kicking myself. Instead, I’m lying in what feels like the trunk of a small, musky smelling economy car, bound tightly by duct tape, gagged and blindfolded. Even if I could manage to get my feet free, I think the blood flow to my ankles would be an issue. I’m sandwiched pretty tightly in this box. If my 5’7” frame were any bigger, he would have had to upgrade just to get me in here at all.
I have no way of knowing how long we’ve been driving and I can only imagine where Gerald is taking me. Truth is, I don’t even know if Gerald is behind this. There could be any number of maniacal killers that would happily toss me in the back of a car. My bet was on Gerald Broussard, though. My whole body shuddered at what he must have in store for me. Gerald is not known for his generosity in situations such as this. I will certainly be in for a long, painful death.
Thinking along those lines brought back memories of how I got in this situation to begin with. Poor little Amy Townsend; I could only hope she was spared the torture and abuse I was certain Broussard could dish out. I didn’t fool myself into believing that, however. I’d seen the remnants of those who had come before her. I squeezed my eyes tighter, as if the defensive movement could really shut out the visions re-playing in my mind. “Hold it together, Kelly.” I heard myself say. Silently, I continued, reminding myself that if I was truly going to get out of this alive, I’d have to use every trick I’d learned along the way. Forcing every other thought out of my addled mind, I focused on what needed to be done.
I could feel the car slowing and turning. As disoriented as I was, I couldn’t tell if it was left or right though. I could, however tell it was a gravel road. Little pings of rock, spit at the bottom of the trunk. I wanted to rub my head, it hurt so badly. Like I’d gotten hit with something… hard. That, plus the death metal blaring from inside the car was not a helpful combination. I was feeling a little nauseous too. Just great, I’d show up to the party for two with barf all over myself. I kept fading in and out of consciousness, every time I came to, it would be like a broken record, first the confusion, then the realization, then the panic and finally the troubleshooting. Unfortunately I’d used my energy trying to bring my senses together to find a way out of this. “If I could only move in this damn thing, I might get somewhere.” I laughed harshly. If a detective comes to in a car trunk, does anyone hear? Oh, the fanatical ravings of a lunatic. That’s how I feel. A little off my rocker right now. Sense of humor? Check. Gag tightly in place? Check. Crazy pills? Double check.
I couldn’t approximate how long I’d been in this car, minutes could be hours, and hours could be minutes. I just didn’t know, what with all the consciousness I was losing and all. The car was slowing. I think anyway. I decided I’d lay limp, pretend I’m still out. If that weazely bastard were taking me anywhere, he’d have to work hard at it. I would not make this easy for him.
My body rocked forward…. hard. We came to an abrupt halt, causing me to slam my battered head where the taillight would be. “Shit!” I hissed. That hurt!
The screaming that blared through the speakers was silenced as he cut the engine. “Next time, I pick the music.” I mumbled. I heard the driver’s door open and slam shut. I could tell he was walking, but he was heading in the wrong direction. What was he doing? He wasn’t going to leave me out here, was he? Another wave of nausea hit just then. I focused all of my energy on not throwing up. I reasoned that it would bother me a lot worse than it would him. With that thought, I felt the darkness closing in. I gave myself up to the dizzying feeling of being on a merry-go-round and slid back into unconsciousness.
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