Chapman 1

Mackenzie Chapman
ENG 106-R48-44889
Brittany Biesiada
October 1, 2014
Stiches
As the water draws to the top of the beach, a small, disheveled body sweeps up onto the
sand. The ocean trembles as the body is pushed further and further away. The body lays
motionless with no life. Her brown hair, wet and slimy, stays close against her body as her she is
sprawled out onto the sand. She gasped for her last breath as she looked over at her arm, where
the stiches were: the mark that changed her life forever.
The next day, a man, sitting in his dark office, overlooking the skyline of Chicago heard
his phone ring. He answered it and learned of a runaway teenage girl who just washed up on the
beach of Lake Michigan. He looked up from the book he was reading and whipped off his
glasses. This detective had been waiting for a thrilling case for years, and now one was right
under his nose. He had been waiting for years for a case. This man used to work with the
government but he didnt agree with many activities they were doing, so he left. The government
made his life hell for the last year because he was their best investigator.
Sarah, he yelled to his secretary, give me information stat on the case of the runaway
girl. I want to know where she lived, where she attended school, everything. I dont want
anything to get past me. Girls who runaway do not just wash up dead on the beach. Something is
sketchy.
A few hours later the information was on his desk. He studied the material but nothing
seemed to satisfy him. He shuffled all of the papers together and shoved them into his briefcase.
He whipped it around his shoulder, grabbed his coat, and walked out of his office. He stepped

Chapman 2
out onto Michigan Ave., hailed a cab, and told them the address: 0408 Fruened Ave. Apt. 215,
Chicago, IL.
As soon as he got stepped out of the cab, he saw the apartment where this girl lived. It
was an old disheveled apartment that was tall and narrow. The brick had moss growing up the
side of it, and flowerpots, with wilting plants, scattered around the front door. He buzzed the
apartment and walked up the stairs. He knocked on the door and was pleasantly greeted by a
middle-aged woman.
Hello, Im here to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Ken Smith.
Come right in, Mrs. Smith sniffled, I assume you are here to talk about my daughter.
Yes, I dont want to take much of your time, the detective said, I want to just ask a
few questions.
The two of them walked towards the living room where they confronted Mr. Smith. As
he walked towards the living room, the detective noticed family pictures on the wall, where
everyone seemed to be happy. They were laughing in the pictures, smiling at each other with a
look that made them seem inseparable.
The detective began, asking, How was your relationship with your daughter?
Great, Mr. Smith said immediately, almost offended by the question. Sir, I promise
you, we had a great relationship with our daughter. We were so confused when she ran away last
night. She never said anything to us about being upset with something we said.
Then why did she run away? You are her parents, how do you have no insight?
We have thought of this question multiple times and we truly dont know. She fought us
a few days before about not wanting to go to school. We never forced her to attend but we

Chapman 3
encouraged her to talk to us if something was going on, Mrs. Smith said, Maybe her boyfriend
knows more?
She was in a relationship? Where they fighting? Can you get me his information? The
detective responded.
Mr. Smith jotted down the boys information on a post-it note and scooted it across the
end table to the detective. He took the note and slid it into the inner pocket of his coat. He
thanked them for talking to him and answering his questions and left the house.
A few blocks away, he saw a boy fixing his bike on the sidewalk. The boy was in a white
t-shirt stained with grease he had wiped off of his hands. He had dark brown hair that was
slicked to the side. He had a small stature, not that of a jock. The detective walked up to the boy,
stood above him, looking over his shoulder.
The boy turned around and asked, Can I help you?
I have been told that you know Leah Smith, the detective said.
Know? I wanted to marry that girl one day, the boy said as he starred blankly into the
distance.
Can you tell me what you know? Why did she want to run away?
Sir, I dont know.
Why did she hate school? Were you fighting?
No. We were happy, so happy. She didnt hate school. She hated one class, government.
She said she didnt like the class, the tests, and the people. I didnt want her to get upset so I
would try to change the topic, the boy said distraughtly.
What kind of people where in the class? Who was the teacher?

Chapman 4
The class was full of her friends, that was why I was confused, the boy said, Her
teacher was new this year, Mr. White.
The detective finished jotting down the teachers name and went back to his cab that was
waiting for him. He fell into the seat and opened his briefcase. He looked at the report on the
girls death. It gave her physical appearance, name, age, and gender. Under the topic of markings
on the body, he read that she had stiches on her right arm. None of her family or boyfriend
mentioned this odd feature, or past surgeries or accidents that would have caused this. The
detective sat confused as he was rereading all of the information that the family and friend gave
him. He called his secretary.
Sarah, he said, Look at the report on Leah Smith. Is there any information you forgot
to give me showing why she had stiches on her arm?
No, I gave you everything we had, she said, If you look on the small print underneath
the description of the stiches, it said the cut she got was stitched the night she ran away. The
stiches were fresh, sir.
Thank you Sarah, he said, now please go to my computer and search the name Harry
White. What do you see?
Sarah then told the detective all the information she saw. Harry White was a government
teacher at Harper High School. But previously, he had worked for some unknown agency. The
detective did not respond to what Sarah had to say. He clicked the phone together and placed it
on the seat next to him. He placed everything back into his briefcase as he arrived at Harper High
School.
He walked in the front doors of the school and asked for Harry White. He went to the
room he was told, it was at the end of the hall. As he walked down the empty hallway, lined with

Chapman 5
lockers, he thought about the information he knew about this man he was about to meet and how
it could be the answer to his case. He walked into the classroom.
Mr. White?
A middle-aged man looked up from behind a stack of papers at the detective and said,
Yes?
Yesterday, a girl by the name of Leah Smith was found dead on the shores of Lake
Michigan. I was told you were her teacher?
Yes, Mr. White agreed, as his face turned to the color of his name.
I have a few questions for you, Mr. White. First, how was your relationship with Leah?
I was told she never wanted to come into this class. Can you tell me why?
Sweat started to stream off of Mr. Whites forehead. He clenched his fists together and
slowly stood up.
I dont know what you are talking about? I saw Leah after school yesterday and she was
fine.
Oh, after school you saw her? That would mean you are the last person to see her alive.
Sir, do you have something to tell me?
No.
A school teacher, sir, with a background in the unknown agency, the detective
affirmed.
Okay, yes. But that means nothing.
The detective asked, What agency is this sir?
It was a government agency. I got sick of it so I decided to go back to school to be a
school teacher.

Chapman 6
A government agency? Can you elaborate? What where your tasks?
I would investigate different cases, unknown government business
This sounds a lot like the federal bureau of investigations.
Mr. White started stood up quickly, No! he yelled.
Mr. White, tell me the truth.
Mr. White began to pace across the room, sweat was streaming down his face, as he was
clasping his hands together. He walked over to the window and opened it as he began to fan
himself.
Mr. White then cracked, Okay, you are right. I was an FBI agent but that means nothing
to this case. I didnt do anything.
Why was there a scar on her arm?
Mr. Whites face flushed as he walked towards the door, I do not know what you are
talking about.
Stop, Mr. White, the detective yelled, you know what happened. Now tell me.
It wasnt me, Mr. White screeched. I was told by government officials of this town to
find a girl named Leah Smith and put a microchip in her arm. I tried to get close to her
throughout the year, hoping she would trust me, but she only found me creepy. That is when I
started to use force. Last night, I implanted the chip. But they never told me she would die. I
promise.
The detective asked, Why? What does this chip contain?
Important underground information about the mayors funding.
The detective shoved the desk next to him and rushed out of the room. Mr. White sat
stoned, speechless, and still.

Chapman 7
The detective walked back to the hallway and leaned up against the wall as he slid to the
ground. He put his hands in his head not knowing where to turn next. He looked to the left and
saw a row of lockers. An idea popped into his head.
He walked into the office and said, Hello maam, I was wondering if you could tell me
Leah Smiths locker number?
The woman took him to Leahs locker and unlocked it. He thanked her and she left. He
then looked inside. There were books at the bottom with notebooks and folders, a coat hung on
her hook, and an unfinished lunch in the top shelf. He noticed a smaller notebook, unlike the
others at the bottom of the notebook. He pulled it out and opened it to the first page where he
read: Leahs Diary. As he flipped through the pages he saw day to day, all of Leahs action,
thoughts, and feelings. He struck gold. He flipped to the last page of the book and it read this:
Dear Diary, What do I do now? They implanted the chip in my arm. They cut a tiny slit in
my arm and slid it under the skin, then stitched it up. Mr. White told me that I couldnt tell my
friends or family; it would only put them in danger. I am all alone, now. All alone in this world.
What do I do? I cant go home. I cant go to anywhere. Whatever is in my arm, is ruining my life.
Im being used by someone with power and I cannot do anything about it. I have done nothing to
deserve this. Why me? I need to go. If I go, everyone will have a better life. They will lose the
microchip and everyone in my family will be safe. But where? Diary, I dont know yet, but I am
leaving tonight. Im taking my life. Goodbye forever, Leah.
The detective made a call to his office and had them order the microchip from Leahs
arm. He told them exactly where it was, under the skin of the left arm. After it was brought to his
office, he went to the computer and plugged in the microchip into his computer, it was a USB.
He downloaded all of the programs that the microchip contained. Mr. White told the truth. On

Chapman 8
his computer was many illegal acts done by the mayor to fund the community, and most
importantly, himself. He was using the taxpayers money to fund his new home in California
and also he was paying illegal immigrants to come to the city if they would vote for his next
term.
The information of why they chose Leah was also on the file. The person carrying the
microchip had to live on Fruened Ave. Every other letter of the street name spelled out the name
of this underground action: FUND. Also, they wanted a shy, vulnerable girl who can easily be
manuvered into holding the chip. They chose to implant the microchip into someone because
they wanted to get rid of the file from the office, yet, still keep it accessible to them if they need
it. What the government did not know was how scared and manipulated Leah felt, feeling
pressured to kill herself. And that is exactly what she did.
The detective was disgusted as he threw down the papers on his desk. He looked at his
phone and dialed the phone number for the courthouse.
Hello, may I please talk to the mayor.
He looked up from his desk at his secretary and said, Justice will be served to those who
serve justice.

Chapman 9
Works Cited
"What Is Government Funding?" WiseGEEK. N.p., n.d. Web. 16 Sept. 2014.
<http://www.wisegeek.net/what-is-government-funding.htm>.
-This source helped me when I wrote about the illegal government funding in my story. Before I
wrote they story, I was not sure what the government funding was. Now that I researched it, I
know what it is and how it can be illegally done.