Annika Agarwal

11/3/15

Written Expressions

Period 3

Handcuffs
10:00. Tick, tock. 10:01. My hands were shaking. Actually, my entire body was shaking.
There were beads of sweat forming all along my hairline. My temples were becoming the most
prominent part of my complexion. The mission was driving me insane.
Tomorrow was the day I would succumb to failure or prove the rest of the world wrong. I
was appointed by the United States Central Intelligence Agency; the mission was to catch a
criminal that had been on their radar for approximately two years, and they had figured I was the
perfect man for the job.
Knock knock. Alana came striding through the door. Alana Sterling, my wife, was my
closest friend. Although our marriage was rushed, she was the love of my life. As she did with
her paintings, Alana had filled my life with color.
Are you stressing about this mission, Maverick? she asked.
Barely. I think Im going crazy about this mission. Its driving me nuts! I exclaimed,
pulling on my hair.
You know what I think? I think, you should decline it. Just say no
I cant just say no. My father and his father sacrificed their lives for the agency. Now
that I think about it, I am being the biggest fool ever. My family went on some of the toughest
missions out there, and I cant handle my first one? No, I have to be confident in tomorrows
mission. I know that I will succeed. I was trying to reassure myself.
Listen Maverick. Youre being childish. You dont have to follow your ancestors

footsteps. Just do whats right for you. And, honestly, I dont think you should be doing what
youre doing, Alana persuaded.
Alana, I know youre worried for me, but trust meIll be fine. The matter isnt about
my safety. Its about who I am. Its about whether other people can rely on me for their safety.
When I havent even tried, I cant just say no.
Okay, Mr. Sterling. I guess its all up to you.
I could see the disappointment in Alanas eyes, but it was my duty to protect the people of
my country. There was something about the conversation that bolstered my confidence.
Slamming the door behind her, Alana left the room.
The following day, Mr. Easton Sawyer, my partner in this mission, and I drove to a house
in downtown Detroit52 Spruce Lane. My wife used to live in downtown Detroit.
Pulling into the driveway, we stared at the house. There was no uncanny feature of the
house, nothing that would let someone suspect that a criminal lived in that house. The door was
bright yellow, and the window shutters were pink. In fact, the house looked like a four-year-olds
canvas; there were colors everywhere.
Upon ringing the doorbell, there was no answer. Absolute silence. On the other hand, Mr.
Sawyer was expeditiously gnawing on his nails; he was breathing in long, heavy gasps.
Is everything alright, Mr. Sawyer? I asked, curiously.
Yeah, I think Im alright, he replied.
You think, or you are?
Fine, Mr. Sterling. Im not alright. I know Im being a coward, but Im legitimately
nervous about this mission. Easton Sawyer whispered it as if he was disclosing the agencys
most valuable secret.

Look, I was quite nervous as well. But we cant give up when we havent even tried,
right?
Right, Mr. Sawyer replied.
Sawyers body was here; however, his mind was in another dimensionhe was still
doubting the mission. Hmmm. This was strange. Despite the fact that Sawyer had been in the
agency for a lot longer than me, he did not want to go inside.
After attempting to reassure Sawyer, slowly but steadily, I opened the door. There was no
one inside. Hence, we started searching. We searched the kitchen. We searched the basement. We
even searched the bathrooms. Looking from room to room, there was nothing to be found; the
house was abandoned. However, there was one moment where it seemed as if Mr. Sawyer was
hiding confidential information. In one of the rooms, the master bedroom, I believe, Mr. Sawyer
hastily put a notebook into the nightstand and quickly hurried out of the roomin hopes to avoid
any examination of the item. I did not question him in the fear that he would suspect me;
however, I speculated that he was the criminal. By the end of the investigation, it was seven in
the night. Should I confront Sawyer? Driving home, I contemplated, Should I report him into the
agency? Until I had concrete evidence, I decided to refrain from notifying the agency.
Days passed and I had no luck. Weeks passed and I had no luck. Months passed and I had
no luck. Finally, the agency agreed to help. They sent two experienced specialists to catch the
criminal I had been searching for for days. In about a week, Mr. Sawyer was to be caught redhanded. In the meantime, we decided to let the specialists execute their mission.
I was at the grocery store when I received a call from the agency. They had found the
criminal. However, their tone was elsewhere; they seemed upsetat me. There was also one

other peculiarity; I thought I heard someone hollering my name in the background. In a hurry, I
hung up and raced home. Maybe if I drove home the matter would start to make more sense.
I opened the door and walked through the foyer. The moment I stepped inside the living
room, I saw the the professionals. Wait, what were the specialists doing here? I looked behind
them and I could not believe my eyes. Behind the two bulky men, there was my wife, Mrs. Alana
Sterlingin handcuffs.