My mom changed after that day. Her discernment of spirits had allowed her to see that her child had been visited by the devil, I’d learned. But through daily hours of prayer, dedication, piety, study, church visits, and purification, God would still lay claim on me. She tore the arctic fox page from my National Geographic book, leaving only the torn remnants of what had once been a pretty snow landscape and a perfect, furry creature in its memory. I no longer had space for tears, as every night I’d hear my mother falling asleep sobbing as she begged the Lord to spare my soul.
