Twelve.

I've decided I'd like to do more freewriting.  Freewriting - at least, to me, anyway - means just writing whatever comes to mind.  Mine are usually little self-assessments, because I'm quite self-critical; that's why this one is tagged under 'personal'.

Name: Twelve.
Rating: K
Word Count: 112

I was a chaste little creature; an innocent mind in a sea of corruption.  Do you love him?, they said, and of course I didn’t – I said I didn’t know.  You must do, they said.  Have you kissed him?  I hadn’t.  I was young and I didn’t really understand what any of it meant; I told them We don’t kiss - it’s a talking relationship.  They ripped me to shreds, of course – whatever there was to rip in the first place.  I was humiliated, but when I look back now I’m glad I said it; wouldn’t take it back.  I was twelve years old, and I thought my age.  Isn’t that remarkable?