Cendrillon

    "Why would I ki-"
    I was interrupted by the strange woman. "If you want to become the princess, it is a must."
    "O-okay...?" I took the long dagger into my hand, looking at the shining metal. Was murder worth being the princess? Yes. Most definitely.
    "You will go to the ball now, and you'll be the most beautiful girl there." The woman told me. "If you have not killed the prince by midnight, you'll be just like this for the rest of your life."
    "Okay, I'll do it." My voice was weak, and I felt unsure. I gasped when I saw the beautiful, white ball gown that replaced my torn, simple dress. My once bare feet were now in beautiful glass slippers. I had a tiara in my hair. I actually looked like a princess.
    "Go." The woman commanded. I hid the dagger in the dress and quickly obeyed.
    The carriage ride to the palace was silent. The whole, bumpy ride there, I was going back and forth in my mind. Kill the prince, or stay poor? It was literally a life or death decision.
    "Madam," Someone said. The carriage door was opened by the driver, a tall man with long, purple hair. I smiled the fakest of smiles and got out.
    As I walked up the steps to the palace, I was filled with awe. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Inside was even more magnificent. The architecture alone would've had me staring. But the marble floors shone as people danced gracefully. The ceiling was painted. And everyone was wearing beautiful dresses and uniforms.
    I looked around, feeling out of place. It was like another world.
    "Your grace," Someone said. I turned around, finding someone in a blue uniform standing behind me. He had blue hair and a warm, caring smile.
    "Your royal highness," I returned, trying not to stutter. I curtsied, amazed at how naturally it came to me. He bowed in return.
    "Would you care you dance?" He asked. I accepted, and for what seemed forever we were in our own world. He was kind, handsome, a prince. How could I ever...?
    I glanced up at the clock. Ten seventeen. We had been dancing for an hour.
    I kept getting amazed by things I had never been aware of before. Like how well I seemed to dance. How no one interrupted our dancing, and how the prince seemed to be alright with that. How our eyes never the others'.
    I glanced at the beautiful, ornate clock again. Eleven twenty-three.
    Every time I began to think of the hidden dagger, it became more painful. So I would shove the thoughts aside and let my attention drift back to the prince.
    "Your grace, would you care to step away with me for a moment?" The prince asked me. We had stopped dancing. He offered me his hand, and I took it. He led me up a grand staircase, to the overlooking balcony. We could see the entire ballroom from here.
    "Beautiful," I whispered. He nodded in agreement, distracted. My mind drifted again, to what a perfect night it had been. Dancing with the prince, of all people!
    I realized something, and looked up at him. How could I kill someone I've fallen in love with?
    The giant clock let out the first loud gong that announced midnight.
    I fell to my hands and knees, trembling with fear and anger. "I'm sorry."
    Two gongs.
    "What is it?" He asked, kneeling beside me.
    Three gongs.
    "It's not worth it! It's not worth being the princess!" I ripped away part of the skirt of the dress and stood back up.
    Four gongs.
    "Please, tell me!" He persisted. His face was filled with worry.
    Five gongs.
    "I-I've fallen in love with you." I whispered.
    Six gongs.
    He smiled softly. "And I was about to say the same."
    Seven gongs.
    "No, you don't understand, I just..." I looked up at him, tears coming to my eyes.
    Eight gongs.
    The prince kissed me on the lips. Everything seemed to disappear in the world.
    Nine gongs.
    I took the dagger out of my dress.
    Ten gongs.
    I stabbed him, the tears finally escaping my eyes.
    Eleven gongs.
    When he fell back, I cried out. I could've not killed him. We could've lived happily ever after. Maybe he would have accepted me as a poor girl. What had I done? He exhaled one last time, his eyelids closing.
    "No!" I cried.
    Twelve gongs.
    No.