Chapter 51 – Rock Bottom

Wherein Rose reaches her breaking point.

After an amazing Thaumday, which Rose spent playing at Cicada Park and later lounging at the bungalow, Paladay came rolling around. Rose dreaded getting out of bed. She hauled herself upright, dressed quickly, and rushed downstairs for a cold breakfast. She left before the others were down. She had heard Bosra stomping around upstairs as she closed the door behind her and briskly walked to the tube. If she talked to either of them, she would break down and skip today. She couldn’t afford that.

Remarkable, she pondered, how the prospect of thirty minutes of conversation could drain the spirit out of her. Nature had come back to life, yet she felt like a wilting flower.

Far too quickly, she arrived at Bardic College campus. Grabbing a drink from the concession stand, manned by a bleary-eyed youth with big spikes protruding from his scalp, she made her way to the emergency exit. She figured the youth was some kind of lizardling-cross. For being a crossbreed, he looked okay. She had seen weirder looking folk on the tube in the early morning hours. 

She entered once again through the fire escape door and made her way up to the fifth floor via thaumatic lift. 

Now she had time to kill. Slowly she made her trek from the lift to the practice room, looking at all the so-called art on the walls. Most had little cards next to them, stating which alumni or student had created the masterpiece. With the exception of one or two, she recognised all names. She wondered how much of their soul they had to give up to reach that status. 

Mr Bosch let her into the practice room with a smile that was too nice. Rose steeled herself as she greeted him. She had taken to offering her hand for a handshake, so he wouldn't try to put his arm around her. He reciprocated, but caressed the side of her hand with his thumb, making her shiver involuntarily. 

Creep. She pulled her hand free. 

As had become usual, she set her bag and case down by her chair. Probably to go untouched until she left. 

"So, Miss Rose, I heard you were playing at Cicada Park yesterday."

"I was." There was no use denying it. She had been with the old men, had played there before they had arrived to earn some coin. 

"I heard you went back to your roots."

"If you mean I was playing country tunes, then yes. They earn me the most cash." Rose had no trouble being honest about that. She was even a bit recalcitrant in saying it, hoping Mr Bosch would have no good comeback for it. 

"But a true artist, Miss Rose, doesn't play for cash, do they?"

"Don't they?" Rose returned without batting an eyelash. 

"They don't," Mr Bosch replied with a condescending smile. "They expose the public to their artistry so as to teach the public what is enlightened and what is not."

Just for his smile Rose wanted to strangle him. As for what he was saying, she vehemently disagreed to the point of violence. People subconsciously knew what was beautiful and what was not. What was truth and what was not. What was absolute garbage and what was not.

"I see you are starting to understand."

Oh, she was starting to understand. What she had attributed to sheer stupidity and lack of interest now took a far darker turn. 

"If you want to make it as a bard, Miss Rose, I sincerely suggest you start paying more attention to the world around you and stop trying to fill your pockets out of greed."

Rose gritted her teeth. If she said anything now, she would be expelled. If not for being 'rude' then for being poor enough to need an income on the side. 

"Now, we have about a quarter mark left on our session, why don't you show me your latest composition and I will help you improve it," Mr Bosch smiled as if he was the most benevolent sponsor Rose could ever wish for. 

Those last fifteen minutes seemed to last fifteen hours. Every motion Rose made was controlled to the point she was having muscle cramps and a headache by the time she got up to leave.

That was, of course, when she had to face Brittany, who pasted a saccharine smile on her face as she tried to trip Rose. 

"Did you have a good session?" she asked, as if they were friends instead of bully and target. 

"The best," Rose deadpanned. She wasn't going to give Brittany any chance to harry her. 

"The sessions with Mr Bosch are so good, don't you think? The man is a fountain of wisdom." 

Rose barely managed to not audibly gag. "Uhuh. See you later."

"Enjoy your morning, Rosie Pig." Brittany waved before cooing coyly at Mr Bosch, and closed the door behind her.

Why did the heraldry teacher have to go over each of their names? Why had she been forced to share the origin of her last name? Cerdos, outer-Wold dialect for pig.

Rose made it down one set of stairs before she had to sit down, head between her knees, vision swimming and stomach churning. 

She was close. So close. 

Six more weeks until she had her road magic license and she would be free to go on her merry way. 

Breathing was important. She had to breathe. 

The stairwell felt too small. The grey walls closing in on her. The air becoming too stale. 

Her heart was beating an allegro in crescendo. 

She sucked in air through her teeth. It sounded way too high pitched. 

Her vision became frayed at the edges. Darkness creeping in. 

She shouldn't do this. She couldn't do this. 

Dislocated voices drifted up the stairwell, adding to Rose's disorientation. 

Lessons, she thought. People were coming up for lessons. She should move. Should go some place else to... to... 

She rose from her perch and stumbled, her head cracking against the grey cement wall. 

She had too little air to cry out. 

The pain spread over her scalp and down her neck. It shot hot tendrils down her arms and made her fingertips tingle. 

She gasped for air and finally got her lungs filled with the precious stuff. Gripping the railing, she steadied herself. She held on so tightly her knuckles turned white and her arms cramped. 

She breathed deeply again, her vision blacking out. 

Blood, was there blood? 

Touching her crown, her nape she felt for a wet and sticky patch, but found nothing. 

The voices became louder. The words more tangible. 

Six or seven people were coming up, she realised. 

She leaned against the railing as if that had been her intention all along. 

All seven greeted her with minimal interest. They didn't seem to find it too strange that she was just hanging here. 

"Waiting for tutoring, am I right?" one of them asked. 

Rose made a non-committal noise that was taken for agreement. 

Taking a few more measured breaths, Rose returned to a more normal state. Her head ached, but she could see again, could hear again, could breathe again. 

She made her way down the stairs at her own pace, being passed a few times by students going in the opposite direction. 

Home. She wanted to go home, but couldn’t. There wasn’t enough time between now and the practicum she had to attend later. Nursing her sore head, she managed to make it to the cafetaria, where she passed the time by reading through the wizarding teacher’s printed booklet again.

Afterwards - when she was sure the fractures of her soul could be seen from the outside, and she was unable to pretend at being okay - she went to the library, telling herself it was for research.

~

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