"Miss Wright." 

Mr Mason calls, Anastasia's head slowly pulling itself up from its position on the table. 

"Do you agree with Mr Hale's statement?"

he raises an expecting brow and she simply shrugs before going to lay down again. 

His class takes another twenty minutes and she has no intention on spending them awake.

"Miss Wright. Do you or do you not agree that dreams are a way to gain freedom?"

Mr Mason repeats insistently.

"No."

Anastasia sighs with a roll of her eyes.

"How so?"

he clearly does not value her opinion much.

"Dreams show one what they don't or even can't have, don't they?"

her brow raises.

"They get you to follow a line to reach them, force you into submission so that you don't dare to shrink away from them. But dreams aren't even real. They are images your environment forced upon you from childhood on; whether they wanted it or not."

Anastasia shrugs.

Jasper glances over to her from where he sits, a little surprised with the way her emotions seem to have shut themselves off.

Leaving a tad of everlasting sadness and sempiternal... nostalgia.

It amazes him how one can be able to feel this much and yet so little at the same time. How one can feel so deep but also this superficial.

"What if you use dreams as an escape? Living in paradise for however short it may be, sounds like freedom to me, don't you agree?"

Mr Mason asks her.

"Then your dreams have already caged you. If one uses dreams as an escape, as a way to be free, they won't ever be free in their actual reality."

Anastasia has enough of the conversation and rests her head back onto her crossed arms; closing her eyes to catch onto the sleep she has missed out on last night.

Jasper's eyes stay on her, a fact she gladly ignores as her mind swirls with different kinds of daydreams.

It would be a lie to say Anastasia is good at multitasking and yet her mind seems to be like a train station when it comes to things such as thinking. Because sometimes it feels as though she is able to follow after a trail of thoughts that eventually turns into a line of pictures.

But sometimes, another story starts somewhere in the back of her head like a whispered voice far away and even that story works with pictures. And every once a while, when Anastasia is either really bored or really stressed, a third film plays even further away.

This is exactly what is happening to her right now.

Her mind is occupied by the story of the Iliad. The written words of Homer form the figures and act in her head and every few seconds her mind would stop the action to rewind and change a small detail to add up to the story better than it did before.

Sometimes, the face of Sheriff Woods, Buzz Lightyear or Rex would pop up before becoming nothing more than a blur; the movie of toy story playing parallel to the book 'Iliad'. 

And somewhere far away, yesterday's events dance around; popping up at the front more often than she would like to admit. Different scenarios of how things could have turned out if she had acted differently playing out. All of them ending the same way.

Because there is no escaping the wrath of her father. No matter the smile she puts on, no matter the perfection she has created around her... her father would find a speck of dust and turn it into a tornado of destruction, slurs and dust.

Only barely noticing the bell dismissing the class, Anastasia doesn't bother to get up; her head continuing its rest on her arm, her legs crossed beneath her desk and her hair a tangled mess beside her.

A cough sounds in front of her and her green eyes reluctantly fly open to meet the golden ones staring down at her.

"We are allowed to leave, ma'am."

Jasper states, more or less awkward. Not knowing how to talk to her at all.

The only people he ever really talks to are his family and sometimes the teacher. But around teachers, he knows how to act - respectful, simple and short answers and no further small talk.

And his family, it took him an eternity to open up to them, get comfortable with them and speak more than two words to them at once. Yet, even now, he holds back aspects essential to know the whole truth about him, he keeps things to himself and his diary rather than saying them out loud.

Jasper just isn't the biggest fan of talking to people. But still, with her, he feels as though he needs to talk to her, he feels the need to get closer. Not necessarily in a romantic way but in a way that will be able to ensure him that she is alright and protected. 

Because the moment he laid eyes on her, it was everything the major could think about; they want her safe. And while it would be great to be romantically involved with her, it is a bonus. 

A bonus neither of them is ready to accept. 

Jasper is worried to hurt her, worried he will be the one to plunge her into disaster. And Anastasia is not in the right mindset to even think about being romantically involved with someone - anyone - for reasons he doesn't know. Reasons he doesn't need to know, for now.

Yet, neither of them is able to deny the warm feeling spreading through their veins as their eyes meet. But while Jasper is able to dedicate those feelings as a symptom caused by the bond forming between them, Anastasia draws onto turning the unknown into anger - annoyance.

"Then leave."

getting up, the legs of her chair are screeching against the floor, Anastasia brushes past him; letting her shoulder bump into his harshly before leaving the room. Ignoring the pain his marble-like skin has caused her. Ignoring the way Jasper's heart drops as his eyes look after her with sadness clawing on his insides.

Ignoring the way a shake of regret flashes through her before it is already buried in the depth of her heart.

She shouldn't feel regret for someone she has only just met, for someone she has not exchanged more than ten words with.

Actually, Anastasia shouldn't feel regret at all.

Regret makes her weak and she can't allow herself to be weak.