When I was 9 a girl we knew was raped and murdered. Her little bother was in the same Scout troop as my older brother. I was kept in the dark, except...we could not be. My parents gave my older siblings a concise, and as gentle as possible explanation of what happened. But, everyone talked abpout it. Kids at school. The older kids were allowed to attend a memorial for her. There was no way I was completely ignorant, although the main points were beyond my ken. A couple of years later, a girl was molested in a hazing ritual gone even more effed up. There was this yearly bizarre thing that went on the last day of school to 6th graders. Or at least, to some of them. This was the last year of grade school; the coming fall those kids would attend jr. high. ANyway, on that day, it was tradition for the jr high kids to come to the grade school and chase down the exiting 6th graders and hold them down while they smeared their faces with bright lipstick. This was called "Scrub Day". I was terrified of the whole concept. Mostly, it was the asshole older kids doing it, not the basic, nice kids. One year, a girl was molested. Lipsticked all over. And that was the absolute end of scrub day. And that was when I sort of clued in. The facts clunked into place and fit into what I knew about the reproductive facts I had been taught. And I asked my mom, and she explained.