Allison rested her head against the cool of the glass of the train, counting down the minutes mentally until she would be back in Glasgow. It was only meant to be a short trip, just so Corenna could try to fatten her up in what little time she had and Aryn could introduce her to a few new movies that never made it beyond a few indie cinemas (despite how much they should have). There would, of course, be a horrible movie thrown in the mix that the two would have a running commentary on as they watched.
As much as she loved visiting the Carrows - they gave her everything she had right now in her life - and as much as she hated how they could not visit her, a large part of her still wanted to be back at Clearbrook. Perhaps it was just because it was a late trip, and there were few other people on the train into Glasgow that evening. In fact, she was the only passenger in her car, which was comforting and discomforting all at once. It meant that no one would try to wrangle her into trivial conversation during the ride, but it also meant that there was no one to watch but her own reflection in the window.
She found herself drifting off just as the door to the car slid open and a familiar face entered the room, seeming pleased to have found some other form of life on the quiet train.
“Professor Linden,” she greeted quietly with a nod, though her surprise at seeing him was very obviously shown on her face and the way she tried to straighten up from her slouching position.
“Allison, I thought I saw you get on,” he said with a smile, walking over to stand beside the seat where Allison’s things were strewn across. “I think we’re the only two people on this train.”
“Good for meditating, probably?” She glanced down at her bag and books that cluttered the seat beside her and quickly shifted them onto her lap to organize them. “Have a seat.”
“You really don’t have t- thanks. And it is, but despite some rumors around Clearbrook, I don’t spend all my time meditating.”
She looked toward him with a brief laugh, not wanting to point out that other rumors (which were proven quite true) had become more prominent in Clearbrook’s halls the past few months. “Drinking scotch isn’t meditating?” she questioned lightly, hoping he did not take offense to it.
He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “For some it certainly erases all thoughts from the mind. Rational thoughts, at least.” He looked toward her, and she knew instantly the weight of the conversation was about to become significantly heavier. “I remember that night we talked, you mentioned something…”
She nodded, trying to swallow back any hesitation. “Addiction.”
“What made you guess that?”
“Well, everyone’s got an addiction.” Allison zipped up her bag, letting it slide to the floor as she stared at the back of the seat in front of her while she spoke. “You aren’t even close to a psych teacher’s favorite withdrawal example. I’ve just seen a lot of people who were addicted to different things.” She shrugged, still not really looking at him as she let her chin dip a little so her eyes fell to her hands in her lap. “I know what hiding that stuff looks like.”
“I know you’re smart enough to have people around who’ll help you through it.”
He nodded, and she thought she was safe to look away, but it was clear that he was not quite through with his questions just yet. “Everyone’s got an addiction, you just said that. I’d guess smoking for you, for a lot of the students, but that’s not it. Not the addiction. You said you were a walking question mark, it’d be too easy if it was just smoking. You know mine, or can guess mine, but we aren’t all that good at guessing.”
She took a deep breath before shrugging again, unsure of how exactly to put it without sounding ridiculous. “Trying to find answers.”
Another sigh from her, as she had a feeling he may persist. Under normal circumstances, she may have kept silent and ended the conversation there. Still, it had been a while since she spoke about this, and certainly never to a teacher. “Some people are addicted to injecting things into their blood. I’m addicted to trying to find out whose blood even flows through me. A common orphan addiction, some might think.”
That was enough to satisfy Gerard, and Allison found herself slouching again as she avoided looking toward him. After saying that out loud, the last thing she wanted was pity from someone she had respect for. There were still hours left on the train ride for her thoughts alone to occupy her. Just as she let her eyes close, she felt something press against her forehead and a hand pat her shoulder.
“No addiction ends without help, that’s something for you to remember.”
