The Fine Line Between Thrill And Fear ☆ FRERARD

Chapter 1

Frank's breath hitched in his throat, tightening its grip around his neck. The sickening buzz and hum of the conversation surrounding him hammered into his brain like a thick and long nail. Panicking, Frank forced himself to divert focus from his throbbing heart, pounding in his chest so hard that he thought it would propel from his mouth, and focus on how to get out of there. Clutching his blue blazer close to his body, he weaved his way through the collection of people gathering to catch a train at the subway.

They had caught up to him.

Gasping, Frank spun on his heels, turning his back to the gang, earning a few confused glances from those around him. Clenching his teeth, he wished that they hadn't seen him.

A gang like The City Rats wouldn't shoot in a public setting like this—especially one filled to the brim with people. They could, but they wouldn't. Of course, if they did, they'd have a visit from the police and maybe some time in the big house. So they wouldn't, right? Frank prayed that this was the truth and not just wishful thinking.

The sickening mix of dust and grease in the railway hovered in the air like a poisonous vapour, making Frank feel sick to his stomach—he'd always hated subways for this reason. And not to mention the terrible squeals of iron and huge gusts of stagnant subway air that nestled its tiny disgusting particles in his fluffy brown hair. He wanted to throw up at the mere image of it.

As Frank pushed his way through the crowd, he stared into the dark hole to the left, wondering when the train was going to arrive. He didn't know if the subway system was the same in New York City as it was in New Jersey.

When the train arrived, Frank was one of the first people to hop onto it. As soon as he stepped foot onto the train, he felt a hand grip his elbow but slip away as he gained speed. He didn't dare turn around and be confronted by the narrow eyes and tight lips of one of the gang members.

Frank travelled further into the train, a nervous hop in his walk as he immersed himself in a crowd of people gathering around another door. He felt as if his knees would buckle and break apart like two breadsticks if he walked any more. It wasn't that he was tired—even though he was exhausted—but he was panicking, and for him, panic always attacked his legs first.

"Sorry," he muttered to a stranger when he accidentally bumped into them. Wearing a wince, he quickly threw his gaze back to where he had come from. They had followed him onto the train. Great.

Frank hurried to the window of the train, staring outside at the blanket of steel in the darkness of the tunnel. As he swallowed tensely, he wondered why trains had to have such bright lights.

He glided into a seat and hid behind the backrest, pulling his legs in closer to destroy any sign of him being on this train. Working spontaneously was something that Frank had always hated, and he wasn't good at it either. Everything had to be meticulously planned out to achieve success. But now he was stuck working impulsively with his life on the line. He may as well just give himself in now because there's no way he was going to outrun one of the biggest gangs in NYC.

Frank heard a pair of heavy footsteps walk along the carriage, heading right to him. God, he wanted to disappear. Closer and closer the footsteps came, but not a face as of yet.

"Tickets, please," the ticket inspector found Frank hiding, causing a suspicious expression to consume his face.

"I don't have a ticket," Frank admitted absentmindedly, avoiding his eyes.

"Next stop you have to get off," he said bluntly, then continued walking off to hassle the next person.

Frank groaned and rubbed his eyes. Great. Just great.