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In a moving letter to her captor, sixteen-year-old Gemma relives her kidnapping from Bangkok Airport while on holiday. Taken by Ty, her troubled young stalker, to the wild and desolate Australian Outback she reflects on a landscape from which there’s no escape. In a story of survival, passion and darkness, Gemma reveals how she had to deal with the nightmare, or die trying to fight it. 

Reviews: 

Both characters are as vivid as the desert setting in which they are immersed…disturbing, heartbreaking, and beautiful all at once… SCHOOL LIBRARY JOURNAL

…the author very, very, very skillfully messes with our brains just like Gemma’s brain is getting messed with…As a teen, I would have adored this book even more. Highly recommended! MAGGIE STEIFVATER, bestselling author of Shiver

A vivid new voice for teens. MELVIN BURGESS, award-winning teen author

A stunning, scary and beautiful book. JOHN MARSDEN, bestselling teen author

A jaw-droppingly impressive debut novel. ACHUKA book reviews

a haunting account of captivity and the power of relationships PUBLISHERS' WEEKLY

Tautly written and hard to put down. INDEPENDENT ON SUNDAY

the author very, very, very skillfully messes with our brains just like Gemma’s brain is getting messed with. It makes for a very complex read with no easy answers, just like I like ‘em…highly recommended. MAGGIE STIEFVATER, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF SHIVER

Winner of the Branford Boase Award 2010.

Winner of the Hull Children's Book Award 2010

Winner of the 2010 Children’s Book Council of Australia Junior Judges Older Readers' Award

Winner of a Golden Inky Award (Australia) 2010

Shortlisted for the Coventry Book Award 2010

Shortlisted for the Leeds Book Award 2010

Shortlisted for the Lancashire Book Award 2010

Shortlisted for the Southern Schools Book Award 2010

Longlisted for the Carnegie Medal 2009

Click the link below to watch the chilling Stolen book trailer on YouTube! http://www.youtube.com/user/Chickenhousepublish?feature=mhw4#p/a/u/1/FkWPoLzbTiQ

You saw me before I saw you. I’m sure of it. In the airport, that day in August, you had that look in your eye, as though you wanted something from me, as though you’d wanted it for a long time. No one had ever looked at me like that before, with that kind of intensity. It unsettled me, surprised me I guess. Those blue, blue eyes, icy blue, looking back at me like I could warm them up. They’re pretty powerful, you know, those eyes, pretty beautiful too. Surely I’m not the first girl to be frozen up by them.

You blinked quickly when I looked at you, and turned away, as if you were nervous…as if you felt guilty that you’d just been checking out some random girl in an airport. But I wasn’t random, was I? And it was a good act. I fell for it. It’s funny, but I always thought I could trust blue eyes. I thought they were safe somehow. All the good guys have baby blues. The dark eyes are for the villains…the Grim Reaper, the Joker, werewolves. All dark.

I’d been arguing with my parents. Mum hadn’t been happy about the dirty jeans I’d chosen for the flight, and Dad was just grumpy from lack of sleep. So, seeing you … I guess it was a welcome diversion from that. Is that how you’d planned it; wait until my parents had a go at me before you approached? I knew, even then, that you’d been watching me for a long time. There was a strange sort of familiarity about you. I’d seen you before … somewhere … but who were you? My eyes kept flitting back to your face.

You’d been with me since London. I’d seen you in the check-in line with your small carry-on bag of clothing. I’d seen you on the plane. And now, here you were, in Bangkok airport, sitting in the coffee shop where I was about to order coffee.

I ordered the coffee. I waited for it to be made. I fumbled with my money. I didn’t look back, but I knew you were still watching. It probably sounds weird, but I could just feel it. The tiny hairs on my neck bristled every time you blinked.

The cashier held onto the coffee cup until I had my money ready. Stan, his name badge said; strange I can remember that.

“We don’t take British coins,” Stan said, after he’d watched me count them out.  “Don’t you have a note?”

“I used it in London.”

Stan shook his head and pulled the coffee back towards him. “There’s a cash machine next to duty free.”

I felt someone move up behind me. I turned.