Thomas looked at the clock. It was ten past midnight and he was still sitting in the train cart, in the subway, alone. All he wanted to do was get home to his family - his wife; his children; the dog. Something struck him as odd, however. This was indeed a regular train carriage, but Thomas had been stuck here for close to twenty minutes on an unmoving train. Why didn't anyone tell him what was going on? He expected it might have been a technical fault, after all, it was a machine - and machines have many faults. Yet no voice came through the speaker to alert him that the train would be 'delayed for 10 minutes' or '20 minutes' or 'an hour' in that mechanically amplified voice. The worse thing was, the train didn't stop at a station. This seemed quite normal to Thomas at first, as there was no telling when a train could break down, and more often than not this would not occur as luckily as the passengers might want it to. Not a station, not even for the poor working parents who wanted to have at least a glimmer of hope that they would get home in time, when they looked through the glass panels of the mechanised doors that seperated the carriage from the platform and wished that THEY were one of the people on the other side, pushing everyone who wasn't elderly out of the way to rush home.Besides the point, the train not stopping at a station was odd because the door was actually open. In fact, all the doors were open. They were all facing the concrete faces of the tunnel, some allowing Thomas to see 'whiten your teeth with 3 easy steps' toothbrush adverts, and 'get a breast lift today!' and frankly it was quite unnerving for Thomas to be sitting there in a dimly lit carriage, alone with no company but the encouragement of 'Mismanaged PPI insurance' advertisements - nonetheless with all the doors open. It wasn't like anything could get in (more importantly any ONE) , but having so many openings so close to you would make you feel as if you were a little bit in danger of someone from the outside coming to the inside. The tiny fear began to creep up behind Thomas, and finally, he made his way to the front carriage. 'Hello?' 'Is anyone there?' he asked to no one in particular, as he walked to the driver's door. He rapped the door with his knuckles lightly, not wanting to draw out any sinister figure ( if there happened to be any) from outside. The door shifted under Thomas' hand and there stood the train conductor, bewildered.'You're NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE' the conductor was a portly man with a ginger moustache, split in the centre to reveal two fan-like moustache halves. The sudden increase in volume after all the silence enhanced the deafening effects of this man's loud voice, espeically for Thomas. The conductor violently shoved Thomas backwards, getting his cuff button stuck in Thomas' zip, which he then proceeded to yank backwards - causing him to rip his royal blue French Revolution costume sleeve and utter profanities. 'Sorry sir, I just wa-' - even in the presence of this confusing man, Thomas still stayed true to his weakling self. 'I'M GOING TO DIE IF SOMEONE FINDS OUT YOU WERE IN HERE' The conductor just spat in Thomas' face, and once again shoved him violently through the corridor, unable to get into the next carriage due to the lack of electricity running through the electricity powered doors. 'F-F-FUCK, I'M GOING TO GET IN TROUBLE FOR THIS' 'In trouble? For -' and before Thomas could finish his sentence, the distance between his face and the conductors face widened to an almost impossible gap.That is, if he were still standing.In a split second, Thomas realised he had been pushed backwards into one of the door openings - and braced himself for the cold concrete to come find his back.