Why Girl Taken on Paramount+ prioritizes trauma over twists and mostly succeeds? Explained

Girl Taken
Girl Taken (Image source: Paramount+)

Girl Taken is a six-part British psychological thriller that landed on Paramount+ on January 8, 2026.

It’s based on Hollie Overton’s novel Baby Doll and centers on twin sisters, Lily and Abby, along with their mom, Eve. Everything changes when a trusted teacher, Rick Hansen, kidnaps Lily from their quiet rural town. The cast features Tallulah Evans as Lily, Delphi Evans as Abby, Jill Halfpenny as Eve, and Alfie Allen as Rick.

Girl Taken itself is presented by Paramount+ as “raw” and “emotionally charged,” with a focus on resilience and sisterhood and the long-term price of reclaiming a stolen life, signaling in the first two episodes that it is not intended to be a puzzle-box kidnapping mystery.

Even critics who refer to it as “twisty” emphasize how the actual driver of the show is aftermath: what becomes of a family, a town, and a survivor when the worst event has already taken place, and the killer is still within reach to influence the story.

Disclaimer: The article contains the writer's personal opinions. Reader discretion is advised.


Why Girl Taken chooses trauma over twists (and why that mostly works)

A still from Girl Taken (Image via Paramount+)
A still from Girl Taken (Image via Paramount+)

Most abduction thrillers stick to a predictable script: you get a handful of clues, some twists that ramp up, a big surprise right in the middle, and then a tidy, puzzle-piece ending. Girl Taken in no way lacks suspense, as it inevitably features kidnapping as a central theme. But it is much more concerned with more muddled, unresolvable, and more difficult to solve traumatic consequences, particularly when the abuser looks like a member of the community, someone kind, helpful, and ordinary.

The show maintains the “mystery” secondary to the damage. The most expressive creative decision is the fact that Girl Taken does not exploit the plight of Lily as a spectacle of outrageous scenes. According to The Guardian, the series does not sensationalize the abuse but tends to avoid it on screen and focuses on its emotional aftermath instead.

What really sets this show apart isn’t just the suspense. It digs into what comes after something awful happens. It’s less about the immediate aftermath and more about how the trauma seeps into your body, your thoughts, your family, and especially the unique connection between twins.

That transformation immediately alters even the meaning of “twist” here. The most gut-wrenching moments are neither gotcha moments nor even recognitions: the moment you realize how Lily being in captivity distorted her sense of safety; the moment when Abby finds that her life has been divided into “before” and “after,” despite being the one to stay home; the slow collapse of Eve’s ability to mother both girls in the same way.

Girl Taken is less shocking and more about sitting down and accepting the reality that trauma does not cease to exist just because the victim was free to walk.

The framework is created to emphasize aftermath, not puzzle-solving. Various articles narrate a story created by time leaps of traveling back in time between the events before the abduction and the years afterwards, such as what occurs when Lily escapes. Structurally, that is a statement: the event is not the entire story. Girl Taken rejects the comforting fantasy that horror is a closed chapter by leaping forward.

This is also what prevents the series from becoming twist-addicted. When you jump through time, you tend to have less interest in a cliffhanger mechanic and more in contrast: what they were versus what they became. In a series about twin sisters, the contrast hits even more heavily when we come to the story of Lily and Abby, the two living reflections of two distinct survivals: one who was captured, the other who was abandoned, regrets, and sickly knowledge that somebody came after their lives and got the wrong sister.

Rick is not portrayed as a movie “monster.” That’s the point. Rick, portrayed by Alfie Allen, is mentioned on multiple occasions as being chilling because he is actually restrained, a person who can fit in, a person who is a part of community life, and even capable of engaging in the orbit of the search without raising the alarm bells at once. By making villains out of the obvious, a story can be perversely reassuring: you would notice him, you would stop him, and you would be safe.

Girl Taken does not seek that comfort. It is tilted into the uglier reality that manipulation is frequently social, gradual, and plausibly deniable, particularly when power (teacher/student, adult/teen, respected man/young girl) does the heavy lifting. Even the detail about the premise, that Rick abducts Lily after confusing her with the twin he was about to kidnap, brings out the extent of dehumanizing the crime. The girl is interchangeable for him.

And this is where the power of trauma over twists comes in at the most: the show does not rely on Rick to produce a continuous flow of surprises; on the contrary, it uses him to learn how control functions, how reputation defends itself, and how an aggressor can continue to target and influence even after the physical act of capturing.

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Edited by Sahiba Tahleel