I remember watching my baby sister cry because she was taught to fear inevitability. Her tears, tattering my mother's t-shirt as she pleaded please Mommy, don't let me go to hell. I remember my spirit shattering on the hallway carpet knowing her naive vulnerability was taken advantage of. Hell is only for cruel people, like murderers my mother tried to comfort her in visible anguish, from what they did to her five year old daughter. I remember repudiating the church for ensnaring a defenseless mind. Someone so susceptible, who hasn't yet felt mundane failure or disappointment or even self-awareness. I knew my sister would never be a murderer but now, how could she enjoy that innocence? The mindless manipulation of a clueless child, the undermining, of pure thought, taught me to rely on metacognition.