Novel & Cerita I Am Twelve

My parents have finished playing my role, I am playing the role of a filial son. At 12 years old, people are having fun with their closest friends, experiencing a true childhood, with me and with friends. When I was 12 years old, I had to leave my best friend who tried to stick with me the most, "it" left me to go to a faraway place without saying goodbye, also ending my friendship and first love here.

"Just like she did when we were twelve. She's unstable." I laugh once. Cold.

Eight-year-old Zira- Lighting lit up the sky and howling thunder drowned out my screams. I was terrified and alone. Well, not entirely alone, as bloodied corpses were scattered all around me. I knew I was supposed to stay in the house with the doors and windows locked, but my twelve-year-old brother, Aiden, snuck out. He was supposed to stay in the house with me, but he was worried our parents were in trouble. I tried reminding him he was only twelve, but he was convinced that with our father not home, he was the man of the house.

Liam's POV I was only twelve when I had to leave my residence with my Father. I've never been out before, not once. Then I thought I would never be able to have any friends since I was meant to grow up that way. I'm always scared of the dark because my Father made me to. I don't understand anything since they would always close the doors. It was like that were running from something but none of them would give me an answer whenever I ask them what the problem was.

She pushed the plate toward him. “I’m not hungry.” “Little girls have to eat.” “I’m not little!” she fired back, her face reddening. “I’m fourteen. Three candles already.” “What does that mean?” “You start with one candle when you are seven. Two when you are ten. Three—from thirteen to seventeen. And if you are really good, really dedicated to the fight, you join the Light Patrols after that. Girls, too.”

I would have crawled back into Victor's house on my hands and knees to buy her this. For her it was a palace. For me, that was plenty. It had always been plenty, as long as Lily was warm and full and safe. I lay there listening to her breathe until my own eyes turned heavy. The mattress was so soft I felt like I was sinking into it. I told myself the walls were thick and the doors were watched and nothing could reach us here, and somewhere in the middle of telling myself that, I went under. And then I am twelve years old again.

This was not a social visit. I knew what kind of room I was walking into. I had been walking into rooms like this since I was twelve years old. I straightened my shoulders and walked out.

(FLASHBACK ONE) The memory does not come to me in pieces; it hits me all at once, like a wave of ice water that freezes my blood. As I sit in the dimly lit hospital room, watching the green line of Santino’s heart monitor. I am twelve again, a small girl with long pigtails and a heart full of confusion.

But instead of silence, I found memory. *** I was twelve. And still hadn’t shifted. Every other male in my family had managed it by ten—some by eight, crowing about it like it proved something. Maybe it did. Maybe I was already behind. Not me. Not the boy meant to inherit a legacy. The teasing from my cousins started off like it always did in our world—quietly. A nudge here, a laugh there. “Late bloomer,” they’d mutter, half under their breath.

The air I'd been holding in rushes back into my lungs, and I collapse onto the bed, sitting there, my fingers tangling in my hair. "Why the hell did I kiss him back?" I demand of myself, but there's no answer. A memory instantly ambushes me, transporting me back to when I was twelve. A dark-haired, bearded man pinning me between his arms, forcing me down onto the bed as I thrashed and screamed. "Damn it!" I scream now, flinging myself backward onto the bed. Outside, thunder booms, and I'm drawn to the window, where lightning brightens the dark sky.