Tick. Tick. Tick. My beady eyes zeroed in on the clock hanging above the grand ballroom. My sweaty palms hidden under the lavish pure white gloves gifted to me by my mother. Flashes of thick red waves crashed through my mind, hitting the surface. Red red red. The spine chilling shrills of people echoed, louder and louder. Tick. Tick. Tick.

I jumped up when I felt a palm land on my shoulder, it was my father.

“Are you alright darling?” His eyes sparkled with concern.

“Yeah dad I’m fine, just a little nervous for tonight,” I zoned out, eyes glued to the blurring numbers as time seemed to be passing by swiftly.

“You know this must be done, it’s either the kingdom or one sacrifice. One life for millions, it will be worth it. You remember what happened, don’t you?” He eyed me accusingly. Years ago, when I was merely a young child, I encountered a ghost. Though at the time, she was my friend. Nobody believed she existed, Opal was said to be my imaginary friend. Opal and I would play tag, hide and seek, climb trees and do everything together. But my favourite thing to do, was dance with her, not the way my family and the kingdom elegantly swayed. We danced in the way of freedom.

Until came the day where it all came to a stop. I had awoken from my nap to the shrill screams of my parents. I was jolted awake and lifted into the arms of my father and as he hurried me out my room I saw what it had become. The walls dripped with blood, smeared handprints decorated the ceilings, curtains were torn to shreds, the windows broken. Looking down at my small white dress, it was splattered in black fingerprints. To this day, I don’t know what the black substance was.

“I remember father,” I whispered. He smiled and stood beside me along with my mother. Tick. Tick. Tick. The guests were due to arrive now. I numbly stood at the front of the castle greeting our people, people with terror shining through their eyes, people clinging to their children as if it’s the last time they’ll ever hold them. It might be. I saw people who were forced to attend against their will, in fear of being punished.

What was a worse fate? Imprisonment for life or death? It’s the question I often pondered. Or rather imprisonment for life or a chance at death? Only one was sacrificed, so what were the chances? One, yet that one soul might never see their family again, parents, children, friends. One of these faces would be dead at midnight, if only to keep Opal at bay, for she almost killed me that night.

Tick. Tick. Tick. I sat on my throne and watched my people dance, clinging to their dance partners. We’d caught a few attempting to escape, my parents gave them a warning and sent them off towards the dance floor. The speedy drumming in my chest grew louder, flashes of black now crashed through my mind. I swallowed thickly and blinked back into focus.

“It’s time,” my father announced and he stepped up onto the balcony overlooking the ballroom.

“Attention!” His voice boomed through the eerily silent room, “it’s time for the sacrifice. One shall risk their life for not only my daughter but for the entire kingdom. This ghost must be kept away or death will be brought to us all. Tonight however, my daughter will be doing the honours as she has turned eighteen. Whoever she chooses should feel lucky to be chosen, you will be a hero!”

I snorted. A hero? No, his twisted words don’t affect me. I composed myself and slowly walked next to my father, overlooking my people. The people I should be protecting, who my family should be protecting. Yet they’re cowards, both of them. Not me, I’m nothing like my parents.

“You can do it,” my father encouraged while my mother watched from her throne in anticipation. The cold metal of the gun graced my fingertips even through my gloves. It weighed heavily in my hands as I brought it into the air which grew thick with fear.

Suddenly I felt something drip down my hand and arm, I turned my head to see a black substance spilling from the gun. My father’s gun. It was the same substance that graced my dress that night when I was little. I swiped a finger through it and realized, this was blood. But not human blood, ghost blood. Opal. My father had killed Opal. The black fingerprints on my dress were his covered in Opal’s blood.

My brain spun with memories of our laughter, our fun, she was never a threat to me. But I guess she was to my father, who was the first one to start calling her imaginary. All the pieces of the puzzle connected, my dad killed an innocent being. Granted she was already dead, but her soul lived on, at least it did. This whole ball was a show and for what? My jaw clenched and I spun on my heel pointing the gun to my father. Tick. Tick. Tick. DUNNNNN. I pulled the trigger.