I came home from work, and my son hugged me, started crying, and said he didn’t want to stay with his grandmother anymore. I was shocked to learn the reason 😲😲
I raised my son alone. My husband left when he was less than a year old.
From then on, I worked two jobs. Our small family rested solely on my shoulders. Most often, my mother helped me out. Sometimes I had to call a nanny, but it was expensive.
I was grateful to my mother for her help, although I noticed odd things at times. She would forget something important, say out-of-place things, as if she were lost in her thoughts. But I chalked it up to fatigue or age.
And then one day my son said to me:
“Mom, can you stop working?”
“No, son,” I smiled and stroked his head. “We need money: for rent, food, your toys. Why are you asking?”
“Oh, just…” he shrugged, “interesting.”
I didn’t think much of it at the time. I thought it was just childish curiosity. But a few days later, something happened that changed everything.
That evening, I came home from work. My son ran up to me, hugged me tightly, and suddenly burst into tears.
“Mom, please don’t leave me with Grandma anymore.”
I was taken aback.
“Why, honey? Are you bored? Or did Grandma punish you?”
“She… she’s acting strange. I’m scared.”
“What did she do?”
I came home after work, and my son hugged me, started crying, and said he didn’t want to stay with Grandma anymore. I was shocked to learn the reason.
My son looked away, his voice trembling.
“It hurt me… Please, don’t let her come again.”
My insides turned cold. But the child couldn’t explain anything clearly—he was shaking and silent, as if afraid to even speak. I called his mother. She insisted everything was fine, that they were playing, and he was just making it up.
But I could see he wasn’t lying. His eyes were filled with genuine terror.
The next day, I took the day off. I told my mother I was going to work and hid in the closet in the bedroom. My heart was pounding so hard I thought someone would hear me.
I saw his mother come in to see her son. At first, everything seemed harmless—she straightened the blanket, put the toy back. But then… 😲😲 Continued 👇👇
But suddenly, she grabbed the child’s hand, twisted it, and then took a rope from her bag and tied his wrists.
My son was crying, calling for me. Mom came over and roughly covered his mouth with her hand. But the worst part came next. She raised her head to the ceiling and spoke:
I came home from work, and my son hugged me, started crying, and said he didn’t want to stay with his grandmother anymore: I was shocked to learn the reason.
“See? I did as you told me…”
She listened to someone invisible, then began laughing—a hollow, heart-rending laugh.
“No, no, he won’t leave… He’s ours…”
I couldn’t take it anymore and jumped out of the closet:
“Mom! What are you doing?!”
She turned around. Her eyes were wild, full of sparkle.
“The voices told me to,” she said calmly.
“What voices?!”
“They’re with me. They’re always with me…” She grinned, then suddenly burst into tears and laughed again. My son was sobbing. I rushed to him, untied his hands, and hugged him. His mother stood motionless, whispering something into the void.
I took her to the doctor. There, after examinations, I heard the diagnosis: schizophrenia.
I was scared and hurt. This was my mother, the woman who once protected me, raised me, and loved me. And now… she could harm my son.
