Assonance

Bathos

Bathos
/ˈbeɪθɒs'/
noun 
(especially in a literary work) an effect of anticlimax created by an unintentional lapse in mood from the sublime to the trivial or ridiculous.

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 "Don't let me, don't let me, don't let me down,
I think I'm losing my mind now "

- The Chainsmokers (feat. Daya)

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dedicated to @ImagineSkyline and @FangirlsRule13 for choosing don't let me down! and also @DistantPaths~ heres the update!

and @northbynorth  , guys, all her books are amazing, shes a real inspiration in writing

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MY HEELED BOOTS CLACK AGAINST THE GRAVEL as I jog out the driveway of the mansion I call my house. The duffel bag I slung on is digging into my shoulder, but my coat prevents it from chaffing against bare skin. My breath comes out as a white mist against the night's darkness, the contrast feeling surreal in the conditions of what I'm doing. 

I quietly (or as quiet as heeled boots are) make it to the street, where the cab I called is waiting for me. I glance back over my shoulder, giving my childhood home one more longing glimpse. This would be the last time I see the oak trees surrounding it. The cobblestone walkway leading up to the menacing looking front door. The caged lanterns evenly spread through the front, giving it an ominous look. 

I feel my subconscious digging into my mind, spilling out reminders of events that have happened in there. Crowded business meetings in hushed tones, stiff dinners, the occasional talk of school or the "follow in your parents footsteps" lecture. And, of course, the most recent disagreement involving me trying to change my already written fate. My heart wanted to peruse my love for painting, not my parent's legacy as becoming the state's best defense attorney. 

Always the controlling ones, they chose everything for me. My electives at school. My extracurricular activities. How I spend my free time. What I eat at home. What I wear. And, their personal favorite, what I'm going to become when I grow up. 

I hadn't even been able to choose art at school, as my mom had said "Art is for weirdo's, and you, Kate, are no weirdo. You know what you will be."
That statement had whirl winded into the usual shouting, tears, breaking objects, and finally, the silence of me acknowledging my sealed fate.

"My house, my rules." My mom had said. Always my mom. Dad never bothered with me. Too busy working on cases, while my mom played the bad cop on her days off work.

It wasn't until I had stayed after school the day after the argument, wanting to avoid seeing my mom for as long as possible. I had been leaving the library when I heard  a clandestine melody echoing through the halls, finding me, making my foot root in my place. I recognized it, as Symphony No.5 by Beethoven, one of my favorites. At that moment, I felt hypnotized. I was helpless as I felt each note pulling, tugging, until I arrived at the room it was coming from. 

He was there. 

Kyler Johnston.

Him with his scruffy hair and hazel eyes that always seemed to hold mischief, I would recognize him anywhere. His parents worked as prosecutors and the rivalry between our families had been going on ever since my dad lost his first case to them. My parents practically dreamed of ripping them apart with their bare hands. On nights dad got drunk, he would print photo's of Prosecutor Johnston and throw darts, aiming for the head. Always the head.

Kyler didn't seem to notice me outside, as he continued using his arm to do something. I shuffled to the right, trying to see more, and could barely retain the gasp in my throat.