By Ivana Hruba
While a abducted woman's husband refuses to pay her ransom, she plots revenge with assistance from her reluctant kidnapper. Discovering her husband's plan to betray her, she frames him for her personal "murder," forcing her young kidnapper into an unexpected moral limitation that might switch him forever. This shrewdpermanent and fast paced mystery blends pathos with trickery and intrigue, drawing the reader into the non-public global of a weak 15-year-old boy who believes himself to be the savior and protector of a wronged lady.
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Additional resources for A Decent Ransom: A Story of a Kidnapping Gone Right
It didn’t register. He looked straight at me without seeing, his pupils, like huge luminous moons, reflecting Me. I heaved a A D E C E N T R A N S O M n 39 sigh of relief. Me was here. She had finally appeared, releasing me from the stress of pretending that I wasn’t scared. Should you be? Yes, Me. I should be. I’ve been kidnapped. Of course I am scared. Me, looking doubtful, pulled a face. Look at him. He is a child playing at being in charge, said Me, making a contemptuous gesture. Indeed, seeing him through Me’s eyes gave me a different perspective and the courage to try a new tactic.
When he growled, he filled the room with a sense of menace as overwhelming as an avalanche. Without warning, the man pounced on Ricky and threw him out of the room. The door slammed and I found myself on the filthy mattress, feeling entirely alone. 6 After he found me consorting with Kathryn, Kenny, of course, set down rules. He made me write them out on a piece of leftover butcher paper I had to salvage from the rubbish. When I showed him what I’d written, he still wasn’t happy, grumbling that if anyone found this, my handwriting would prove that we were involved.
Ricky! Rickeee! I screamed, my voice sneaking out to fill the empty space on the other side. I began to move about the room as far as the rope would let me. I wanted to see if there was something I had missed that I could use to free myself. There was nothing, only a plastic bottle and a plate, and books under the bed. Seeing those, I suddenly had an idea. It was so simple, I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it before. I would write a note to throw out the window. The room throbbed, glowing like a horny woman, applauding me.