ANDREA'S STORY: TRAINED BY SATAN, RECRUITED BY GOD! The most curious thing about me is that I was a witch. That's what makes my finding God such a unique story. I had been practicing witchcraft since I was 14 years old. During my prison years, I studied and became a 3rd Degree High Priestess. I excelled in black magic and voodoo. I studied demonology and all sorts of occultist writings. I fought the system for years and suffered being put into administrative segregation, (The HOLE) next door to the only woman on death row in Idaho. MY STORY CONTINUES . At 19 years old, I had been in gun fights, knife fights, working at the strip club and a meth lab in my house. I stole money from banks and started making my own checks, I worked every scam under the sun. I was running around with killers and gang members and I was the boss. But eventually as time passed and more of us got arrested, they blamed me for everything and I got a ten-year sentence. I was released on parole at age 21 and parole violated one year later. I served out every day, the rest of my sentence, over five years. After that sentence was over, I got out for almost two years and got another beef of twelve years. I got out after three years, but I was only out for four months before I p.v.'d for running guns and drugs across Idaho, Nevada, and California. In my new crew, I handled all the computer, phone, and account hacking. I stole close to $100,000 in those four months. I was in a relationship with a man, he hit me and I ended up stabbing him. I was put on America's Most Wanted and Crime Stoppers for three weeks in a row for running. By this point in my life, I had been married three times, two of my four kids were "taken" from me, and I hardly knew my kids to begin with. I slit my wrists in a cell and bled out for half an hour before the guards found me. I slit them over her. I was so lost and self-destructive that I worshiped my wife and my witchcraft over even my own freedom. I was broken and obsessed and pitiful, and somewhere in those five years, I lost my soul. In prison, they all called me "Satanicka." My family called me "Little Dead Girl" because of my numerous scars, pale skin, and obsession with death. I used to say that I'd rather have a party in Hell then sit in Heaven on a stupid cloud. I had hate in my heart and I blamed God so anyone that was Christian or religious was an automatic target to direct my hatred. Other inmates used to refuse to be my roommate for fear that I would put spells on them or steal their hair. I had numerous voodoo dolls confiscated from me. I liked the fear and power over them. People would hold their breath when I'd walk into the chapel, like I was going to catch on fire or something, like God was going to strike me with lightning for going to church. I found it comical. I was filled with so much hurt and insecurity that I forgot even how to cry or laugh. I became numb and let my wickedness take me over. Then one day over the phone my Mom told me that my Grandfather was going to federal prison, and I lost it. My Grandfather was my real-life Guardian Angel. I would give days and years off of my own life and add them to his just so that I would never have to live without him. This made me die completely inside. Two days later, I was called into the sergeant's office and was told that my father had a heart attack and was in I.C.U. Then my "wife" broke up with me and I had enough. I slit both my wrists and laid down. I watched the blood surround me as I lay there. I wasn't scared to die. It was calm and I felt at peace. But then a guard walking by found me at it took four male officers to pick me up and save me. I cried when I saw that I was still alive. That was the first time I heard God's voice, I didn't know it at the time, but the voice told me this isn't how I'm meant to die, it's not my time.