Strictly speaking, you're not supposed to fall asleep in class - but to be honest, that really depends on the teacher. Some teachers are lenient on it, some are not. So spare me a thought while I sit here, hunched over my desk with my head resting on my arms. It's cold out there, and it's warm in here. Everyone seemed to be pretty docile today, just leaning back on chairs and talking quietly to one another.

I don't often fall asleep in class - that's usually the lovely Tea's job when she stays up all night buying dresses online - but today I was extremely close to it, and the teacher wasn't even here yet. I could have easily dozed off, quite happily daydreamed for a while at least, but of course, things rarely happen the way you want them to.

I could hear something rattling down the hallway, like wheels skittering across the ground, getting closer and closer. Half asleep, I was barely phased, not even bothering to open my eyes. It was the loud crash that caught my attention. Startled, I shot up, my heart pounding as a result of the sudden interruption. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I looked ahead of me.

A man was sitting, backwards, on an old office chair; his legs straddled either side of its spine and his arms folded over the top. Everyone was pretty startled, I found, after glancing around, finally studying him more carefully. He had a mop of grey hair that flopped slightly over his eyes, a thin face with a strong jaw, and silver framed glasses perched on his nose. The gleam of light reflecting from them was so strong that I couldn't see his eyes - but I could see his scar. It curved over his right cheek bone and up the bridge of his nose, the exact origin of the scar hidden away under his hair. On the side of his head, an oversized screw-like object protruded in a rather disturbing manner. He lifted a hand and turned it, making a low cracking noise. It even went through the other side! I swallowed slightly, turning my gaze down. He wore a white lab coat, embroidered with the thick black stitching which appeared to be holding the whole together and a sweater, similarly segmented, in other shades of grey. I raised an eyebrow as I sat up; I mean, even his shoes had stitches!

". . . Professor Stein." Shit! I snapped my gaze back to his face, cheeks flushing. Pay attention, I scolded myself. He smiled, and for the first time I realized there was a cigarette dangling from his lips. He brought up his head, and finally the glare on his glasses glinted away, revealing a pair of ochre-green eyes. By anyone's standards, he was definitely a bit freaky.

Dissection was today's topic, as if I couldn't have guessed that the second he entered the room. I bit the inside of my cheek, refolding my arms and ducking my head down neatly. I hated dissection anyway - all the blood and gore doesn't sit too well with me, but the way the Professor was talking . . . as if he was taking an unsettling amount of pleasure from the prospect of exploring the insides of some unwitting mouse or frog . . . I nearly stood up and walked straight out of the class. Something stopped me though. The empty seat beside me was usually filled by my friend Tea. She was often late, so I wasn't too worried, but in the off chance that she did eventually turn up - I wanted to be there.

I sucked in a soft breath and let it out slowly. Keep it together.